Spill

Nov. 10th, 2009 05:57 pm
[personal profile] brancher
TITLE: Spill
FANDOM: Watchmen
PAIRING: Dan/Rorschach
SUMMARY: Just porn. Unredeemed porny porn. Written for kinkmeme.


He's still shuddering, breathing harshly, still reeling and hollow from the force of his sudden emptying. Dan's face tilts up at him, his lips parted and glazed, and he can't see Daniel's eyes behind his glasses. No eyes -- for a moment he feels a wave of horror, and then Daniel smiles and starts to laugh.

"Oh my god, you got me," Dan says, taking off the glasses. They're flecked and spattered with white, and there's more on his face, his cheekbone and his forehead. He's laughing and wiping it away, glossy milky shine on his fingers, and it's -- it's his --

Oh, god.

He convulses again, weakly, as Dan wipes his cheek with the back of his hand, still laughing.

***

He knows he shouldn't. Shouldn't want it again. It was an accident. Daniel took it with good grace, but --

God.

But he looks over at Daniel's round, kind face, glasses starting to slide down his nose a little as he reads, and he can't help but picture it flushed and gleaming, mouth open and panting for more. He feels himself swell, a flare of heat and weight between his legs, and he squeezes his eyes shut.

"Buddy?" Dan says, and touches his arm. "Come to bed."

***

In the dim bedroom Daniel drags his face over Rorschach's cock, rubbing the head against his cheek and nose and chapped lips. Rorschach squirms, his hands curling and uncurling restlessly. He is leaking, steadily, with each pulse of sensation, and he can see a wet trail where Dan has nuzzled against the slit. There's a low whine building in his throat.

"Dan-- Daniel," he tries. "Don't -- can't -- " That's when Daniel mouths the head, hot and wet, and instead of what he was going to say Rorschach takes a gulp of air and holds it, his chest burning, because it's almost --

He grabs Dan's shoulders and pushes hard, and he can hear Daniel protest but he's already curling away from him to come across the sheets.

***

Another night, Daniel presses his mouth to Rorschach's stomach, then his hip; Rorschach hauls him back up the bed, rolls them over.

***

"Hey, let me," Dan says a few nights later, in Archie, sliding his hands up Rorschach's pale, hairy thighs. "I want -- I wanna -- take you in my mouth." The last bit is rushed, and he's blushing.

"No," Rorschach says.

Dan stops. "You -- wait, what? Really?" He look dismayed, pulling back. "But I -- I thought you really liked that."

Rorschach shudders; does Daniel expect him to actually discuss this? "Liked it," he manages. "But ... accident." Daniel just stares at him. "Ugly," Rorschach adds helplessly.

Daniel runs a hand through his untidy hair and takes a a deep breath. "Ok, ok, start over," he says. "Just tell me what's wrong."

But Rorschach has exhausted his words. He shakes his head, hoping Dan will understand and let him be.

Daniel's dark eyes glitter as he looks him over, in a way that reminds him that Daniel is also Nite Owl, and Rorschach has to close his own eyes to endure that knowledge. Feels the sharp gaze anyway, moving over his skin. Then the heat of Dan's body, close, close but not touching.

***

Weeks go by. Dan doesn't ask. Nite Owl and Rorschach are busy on the streets, and at the end of each night they're too exhausted to do more than collapse, either alone or together.

***

But the night after they finally clean out the Belladonna Syndicate, Rorschach finds himself again in Daniel's bed, allowing Daniel to take him apart with his hands. Daniel's curled around his side, his lips safely next to Rorschach's ear, his right hand slowly wringing his cock, scraping a fingernail over the foreskin the way Rorschach likes (something that made Dan flush and pant when Rorschach owned up to it).

The fingernail scrapes now and Rorschach feels himself squirm and shudder under Dan's hand. "That's good," Dan says in his ear. Rorschach hears him take a deep breath. Then he hears Daniel say, "God, Rorschach. Rorschach. I want you to come on my face."

For a moment Rorschach doesn't understand the words.

Then he does, and he freezes, but Dan is still crooning.

"You don't know what that did to me. Feeling your ... your come. Letting you do that, knowing you ... you'd marked me like that, that I could let you do that, that I could take your come on my lips and my ... my glasses, and the way you looked at me ... oh my god, please. Please. I want it, I've been thinking about it for weeks. Please, Rorschach..."

He's strong, but he's not that strong.

"Yes," he rasps, and Daniel moans and slides down his body, pressing his face against Rorschach's erection and nosing at it, sliding it wetly over his eyelids, his lips, and one of them is making a high-pitched keening sound. Rorschach is holding on, holding on, even as Daniel licks hard at the skin under the head, and then control dissolves under him and he feels himself gathered and expelled in crippling waves that go on and on.

He opens his eyes before they die away, and sees it, Dan's eyes closed in reverence, his skin flushed, the last drops of Rorschach's emission spattering his lower lip.

As he watches Dan's hand comes up and touches himself there, gingerly; licks his fingertip.

If Rorschach was used to weeping, he might weep. Instead he curls his hands over his face and breathes in deep shuddering gasps, and lets Dan hold him, lets Dan tell him how good he was and how much he loved it, thank you, thank you, until he can be quiet again.


end
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