Hold Still

Feb. 17th, 2010 03:24 pm
[personal profile] brancher
Title: Hold Still
Fandom: Watchmen - zombieverse
Pairing: Dan/Zombie!Rorschach
Summary: A porny short for [livejournal.com profile] etherati. Takes place right after the events of her Visions and Revisions and this little sketch I did for her.



Laurie's finally headed home, and Dan can hear the brownstone settling -- that quiet drawing-in of a house when company has gone. It's just him and Rorschach again, but it feels different; it feels strange to have actually talked to someone about them, to have given words to what they have.

Dan has been sailing through this -- whatever it is (affair/partnership/obsession/symbiosis) trying not to think about it too much, trying not to disentangle all the twisting threads of how Rorschach fits into his life, the changes they've gone through, what they've become to each other.

Some of the things he said to Laurie he's never said even to himself.

But it's past dawn, and he's crashing, so he puts away the suture kit, mops up the clotty zombie blood and staggers upstairs -- not to their bedroom but the guest bedroom on the second floor, where Rorschach is. The bed seems too narrow, especially since they both have busted arms; side by side is out. So he lies down head to foot on his good side and is gratefully unconscious with his next breath.

He wakes up some time later, with cold zombie feet curled under his chin.

"AGH! Put some SOCKS on, jesus."

"cold."

Dan scoots up the bed to rest his head on Rorschach's hip; it's bony but very comfortable. Rorschach must be still a little muzzy from the drugs, because he doesn't react immediately when Dan rolls over a little and nuzzles his crotch through the blanket. When he does it again, though, Rorschach makes a vague disapproving noise.

Dan half-sits up, supporting himself on his good arm to look at Rorschach.

"Morning, buddy. You back among the living?"

"In a manner of speaking."

"Heh. You really messed that shoulder up pretty good. Need some water?"

"Hrnh" is sometimes Rorschach for "yes," so Dan hauls himself up and pads down the hall. He drinks from the faucet first, big gulps of cold water; he's feeling a little hungover himself.

When he comes back with the full glass, he realizes that this maneuver is going to require teamwork.

"Don't -- don't sit up," he says. "Here, take this."

Rorschach takes the cup in his good hand, and Dan slides his own hand behind Rorshach's head, lifts gingerly. Rorschach mutters a little and bends his neck and lets Dan tilt his head up enough that he can drink, slowly, a little water missing his mouth and trickling down his pale throat as he swallows.

When he's done, Rorschach's head slips back against the pillow and Dan takes the cup away.

"Better?" he asks. Rorschach nods, looking up to meet Dan's eyes.

Dan swallows, suddenly feeling his skin prickle. God, how does Rorschach do that -- even injured, groggy with morphine, and flat on his back, he can menace. Dan shivers all over, feels something hot gather in his gut.

He drops his gaze from Rorschach's, looking down along Rorschach's bare chest, overwritten with black suture, and reaches to peel the blankets back.

"Daniel...?"

"Shh." Dan uncovers him slowly, pushing the quilt off of him until it slips from the bed. "Hold still. I want to look at you."

Rorschach doesn't answer, but Dan hears his breathing slow and deepen.

"You really scared me," Dan murmurs. "You were bleeding so much. I didn't know you could bleed that much anymore." Working Rorschach's trousers open with the cast on his hand is a little clumsy, but he manages it. "I want to touch you," Dan murmurs.

Rorschach's breathing speeds up again, but he lets Dan pull the pants away from his hips, down his pale, speckled legs. When Dan's fingers slip under the hem of his underwear, though, he growls.

"Daniel -- not-- This isn't--"

Dan looks up, looks at the roadmap of sutures at his shoulder, then meets his eyes again. "Just," he says. "Just don't move, ok? Just ... trust me."

Rorschach's eyes widen, and his jaw tightens, hearing a long-ago echo, but he doesn't protest when Dan digs his fingers under the boxers and drags them down.

Dan's never had the luxury of looking at Rorschach like this; left to himself, Rorschach prefers his sexual encounters with Dan to be frenzied, unreciprocated, and in the dark. Dan can tell this vulnerability is costing him -- there's a fine tremor in his side, and his hands are tightening in and out of fists at his sides. His penis lies between his legs, wrinkled and pale and soft, incongruously tender. Dan has never seen him hard. They didn't know each other this way back then.

Dan reaches to stroke it with two fingers, but the edge of the cast catches the skin and Rorschach hisses.

"Ok," Dan mutters, half to himself, "Let me -- how can I --"

There's some awkward turning and positioning as Dan tries to figure out how to arrange himself, laughing softly under his breath at the pair of them, both down a functional arm. "Matched set," he says, and Rorschach makes a noise that might have been a laugh if he weren't so on edge.

Dan finally settles on his side, lying in the crook of Rorschach's legs with his head resting on Rorschach's cool, hairy thigh. It's comfortable, and Rorschach is right there; he can -- "All right," he says, "Just tell me if you need me to stop, but --"

And then he leans forward.

This is what he wants, what he's wanted for so long, to study this part of Rorschach, to know this secret; he noses at the tip delicately, grazing the folds of foreskin, the head inside too sensitive to touch directly.

Dan doesn't even lick at him, just drags his lips up and across the curve. Rorschach makes a low noise, and he whispers back: "Shh. I've got you." Another slow swipe, just testing the weight of it against his lips and cheek. Usually when he's this close to Rorschach, he has hands clutching his ears and hips grinding into his face, but this time he can linger, this time he can savor it. Rorschach shifts a little, underneath him, but stays quiet.

The smell is something Dan's come to relish, mossy and mulchy, strongest here at his core. When he opens his mouth and takes him in, as far as he can go, the scent fills his head.

Dan's blowjob resume is not extensive, so he has little to compare this to, but he loves that he can fit all of Rorschach inside like this. For a moment he holds him there, entirely contained and cool in Dan's hot mouth, and waits; finally it comes, the subtle pulse against his tongue that is Rorschach's heartbeat.

Alive.

He works his tongue, sliding the foreskin back and forth, and Rorschach obliges him with a stifled moan. His body seem to want to buck, but Dan puts his casted hand on Rorschach's lean hip to steady him and lets Rorschach's cock slip from his mouth. "Hey," he says, "hold still," and Rorschach subsides. Dan starts over.

He loses himself in it for a while, loses track of time and his own arousal, until he feels Rorschach's hand come to rest tentatively in his hair. He's trembling. There's never any warning, just Rorschach's short, harsh breaths and then the spasm, his cock stuttering to life in Dan's mouth. The taste of his fluid is as rank as you might expect from someone with an all-meat diet, but there's never very much of it, and Dan swallows quickly to get it away from his taste buds.

Rorschach is still gasping when Dan reaches down to take hold of himself, sliding his hand into his pajama bottoms. He's been hard for so long; he grinds his thumb roughly over his slit once, twice, and then fists himself as he comes sharp and sudden as a gunshot.

Some moments later Dan recovers himself enough to drag himself up alongside Rorschach and drape his casted arm over his chest.

"That was," he says.

Rorschach says, "Good."

"Yeah," Dan says happily.

A long pause. Dan drifts.

Rorschach pokes him in the ribs. "Hn. Need blanket."

Dan rolls, grabs, and drags it up over them.

"Better," Rorschach says.

"Mmm," Dan says.

"Ms. Juspeczyk acquitted herself commendably," Rorschach murmurs.

Dan opens his eyes. Rorschach's are still closed.

"I know," Dan says.

"She covered for me, salvaged operation."

"Shhh, it's --"

"Will be more careful next time, Daniel."

Dan blinks, his throat tight. Then he says, "Hey, it's ok, man. We can talk about this later."

Rorschach nods, without opening his eyes. Dan rests his head against his cold, bony shoulder. They sleep.

THE END

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