[personal profile] brancher
Title: Walter's Favorite Hairbrush
Pairing: Dan/Rorschach/Laurie
Summary: Written with anon on the kinkmeme. A personal item is discovered and explorations ensue. Also, lots of porn.

She finds it when she's helping Walter unpack. Most of his possessions are old newspapers and stacks and stacks of journals, but there's also a few boxes of clothes, and she's unloading the last of these into one of the dresser drawers. Worn boxers and mended socks, smelling clean, thank god. The last pair of boxers is wrapped around something hard, and when she shakes it out over the drawer an object tumbles out. It's made out of wood, shiny from years of handling, and otherwise uncategorizable.

She picks it up. "Hey, Walter? Is it junk or do you want to keep it?"

He turns, sees what she has, and goes white. And starts to shake.

"What? What is it? Are you having a stroke?"

"Personal item," he rasps, and suddenly she knows what she's holding. She looks at it, and this time she can tell that it started life as a brush handle. Oh, god. Oh, gross. She prays he washed it since the last time he used it.


She drops it instantly and wipes her hand on her jeans like it just gave her cooties. "Washed it!" He sounds scandalized at the thought that he wouldn't have, and then goes as red as his hair as he recognizes the admission for what it is. Laurie has to laugh.

"Jesus fucking Christ." She looks at, lying there all incriminating at their feet. It's very smooth, and a little on the smallish side, but then again she wouldn't try to cram anything much bigger up her ass. "After all your bitching about g--"

"NOT HOMOSEXUAL!" He squawks, and the offended self-righteousness of his tone only makes her laugh harder, dissolving completely to lean against the wall as he bolts, apparently unwilling to assault his own dignity further by snatching it up. She figures she ought to at least hide it from Dan. After all, she's not a monster.


Dan doesn't actually ask where Walter is for about half an hour, because he figures he's getting his room in order. It's Laurie who tips him off as she struggles not to laugh into her coffee. She looks so hysterically amused that he glares. "Laurie, where's Walter?" They tease each other and fight like kids, so he supposes it's just more of the same. Laurie chokes on her coffee, and then bursts out laughing. "Laurie!"

"HATE YOU! HATE YOU!" Walter screams from... Jesus, is he hiding in the linen closet? At least Laurie stops laughing.

"Hey, I didn't tell! Fuck you!"

"Didn't tell me what?"

"Eh. I found something of his while he was unpacking."

"...Was it porn?" Dan finally asks, head cocked like a curious bird.


"Sort of. Anyway, he's taking it badly."

Dan sighs, and heads down the hall to the linen closet. "Walter." Silence. "Look, whatever Laurel found, we don't care and we won't judge you for it." A disbelieving snort. "Okay, Laurel might judge you for it, but she doesn't seem to really be holding it against you."

"...Really didn't tell?"

"I guessed pornography" a fierce growl, "And she said 'sort of'. This could mean any number of things, and I don't really care what it is, because if it doesn't bother Laurel that means it's nothing too morally repugnant."

"Is morally repugnant."

"I meant to normal people. If she'd found pictures of children, Laurie would be throwing up."


"I know you wouldn't, Walter. Do you think I'm blind?" He sighs, leaning against the door. "Man, how are you even fitting in there?"

"...Is remarkably close." He admits.

"Come on out, I'm gonna make lunch." He says, and walks away. When all else fails, a combination of food and benign neglect usually works.


It takes Walter a shockingly long time to come out. They actually get all the way through dinner and are sitting on the couch with pieces of chocolate cake before a tiny rattle in the kitchen tells Dan that Walter has slunk out, drawn by the sweet smell. It's just a mix, but using real butter makes all the difference. He looks at Laurie and silently warns her not to indicate that she heard that. He's so glad the three of them know how to work together, for all the squabbling, and God knows he's glad to have Laurie here with Walter the way he has been since the Roche case. At least he had been able to take the kid's body home, clean and intact. It had meant a lot to him, even if it wasn't exactly cause for high fives and a round of shots.

Now Walter finds his warm plate in the oven and devours it, halfway through his own cake before he creeps into the living room like a feral cat. "Hey, buddy." Duan says evenly, not looking at him. "Feeling better?"

"Perhaps." The way he hangs back is heartbreaking, but he finally does come to sit on the other side of Dan, not looking at either of them.

"Dammit, Walter." Laurie finally says. "Nobody cares but you."

"Hurm." He devours an enormous bite.

"Walter, you know I'm a pervert. I'm sure whatever you have can't be worse than anything I own." The way they both look at him makes him suddenly certain that it wasn't porn.


Walter ducks his head and grimaces, unexpectedly. "Have seen your collection. Suppose that's true."

"Well, I don't know about that, but --" Laurie starts, and Dan kicks her in the shin.

She glares at him, then turns back to Walter. "I was only going to say that there's nothing you can do to scare us off at this point," she tells him. "We know you -- I mean, seriously, you live here now. You're ours, Walter. Get used to it, ok?"

Walter is silent, and just puts some more cake in his mouth, but Dan can see him thinking it over.

After cake, Dan goes to clean up the kitchen (it's Laurie's turn, technically, but if he doesn't do it himself the cake batter will petrify on the mixer before she gets around to it). He's aware of a muffled conversation going on in the living room, after he leaves, so he makes sure to clean everything especially thoroughly, scrubbing the beaters til they shine.

When he comes back in, Laurie's sprawled back on the couch with Walter nestled between her legs, kissing her long and slow and desperately, her hand down the back of his jeans to cup his ass. Dan still isn't used to this; he thinks he might never get used to this. It makes him wonder if there's some other universe where he doesn't get to see this, doesn't get to live and have sex with these two magnificent creatures, and he wonders how he got so lucky as to live in this universe instead.

He would join them, but the couch pretty much has a two-person makeout capacity. So instead he waits until they draw breath and then says, "Hey guys. Want to take this upstairs?"

They follow him up like ducklings.


Walter's nestled between them, loose and panting from his first orgasm of the night, when Laurie bends to nip his ear and whisper, "Ok, so tell us about it."

Dan feels Walter try to tense up again, but it would be beyond even his capacity after a Juspecyk Blowjob (tm), and after a brief struggle he gives up and lolls his head back against Dan's shoulder and closes his eyes.

"Started in Charlton," he says.


A piece of wisdom from Laurie's father: There are a lot of games besides hide-the-sausage. She doesn't know who he is and has never heard him say so, but she agrees with him anyway. It's been all oral, all the time because it's what Walter can tolerate, and while she doesn't have anything against oral, a change of pace would be nice. For his part, Dan is sweet and gentle and patient and makes extensive use of his own collection. She's not sure where he keeps it, but after having walked in on him washing four separate items, she has to assume it has its own footlocker or something.

"Oh?" Dan murmurs, nibbling his other ear and making him squirm a little.

"Touched self. Like boys do. Was alone one day. Had had nightmare the previous night, was excused from activities and had the dorm to myself. Was supposed to catch up on my sleep."

"Must've been some nightmare." Dan mutters.

"Horrible." Walter agrees, still not tense, and the sight of his relaxation makes Dan think there might be a god after all. "Naturally, took advantage of situation. Was thirteen, after all."

Laurie laughs softly, running a hand over his chest. "Of course."

Walter blushes, and tries to hide his face in Dan's shoulder. "Very wet. Very curious. One finger became three."

Dan whimpers softly, and Laurie grins at him. "Pervert."

"Knew it was wrong." Walter goes on. "Knew that, but..." He trails off because he has no words or inclination to tell them how good it felt.

"Must've been pretty good." Dan murmurs, since Walter has gotten half-hard again from the thought. He only nods, and whimpers when Dan touches him. "It doesn't make you gay, you know." He squeezes gently. "I mean, you'd enjoy it if Laurie strapped something on and took care of you that way, wouldn't you?" He's very pleased with himself when they both whine softly at the thought.


But then Walter shakes his head.

"Still don't understand," he says. "Didn't stop there."

Dan thinks he does understand. He looks up at Laurie. She bites her lower lip.

"You needed more," Dan says, his fingers tracing the curve of Walter's cock.

Walter nods, his eyes shut tight. "Knew I was sick to want it. Sick to use it. Did it anyway."

"God," Dan breathes, and Laurie darts forward to kiss Walter's flushed cheek.

"I told you he wouldn't mind," she murmurs. Walter whines again, trying to thrust into Dan's grip. "Do you want me to show him?"

He blushes brightly, and Dan kisses his cheek. "Please?"

"Why... Why would you want that?"

"Are you kidding? It's a piece of history." He grins, dark eyes sparkling as he looks down at Walter. "Besides, maybe you could give us a demonstration."

"Disgusting." Walter growls, turning his face away as precome slicks Dan's hand.

"Laurie, go get it."

"Aye-aye, cap'n." She bites his shoulder and bounds up and away, heading for the guest room, where she stashed it hours ago. She gets back to find Dan working Walter slowly, murmuring darkly in his ear. It's kind of funny how much he loves it when either of them talk dirty, and how little he can admit to it. He's whimpering piteously, and looks up at Laurie with huge, lost eyes. "Brought your piece of history."

"Good." Dan sits up, and holds out a hand for it. Walter whines and hides his flaming face in the pillow. Dan makes a few considering noises, turning the brush handle over in his hands like it's a new piece of crimefighting equipment. "Ever thought about something with more give, Walter?"

He makes a profoundly uncomfortably noise, caught between humiliation and arousal. "...Like how hard it is." He mutters.

"Do you, then." Dan rolls it between his hands to warm it, and Laurie grins and gets the lube.

The thing is beautiful in its own strange way, Dan thinks -- the wood burnished from years of use, satin-smooth in his hand. If he looks closely he can see where Walter pried out each of the brush bristles, long ago.

"You've had this a long time," he says. "Is this the first thing you ever --?"

"Kept it," Walter says, eyes closed, throbbing in Dan's hand. His groin is stubbly where his pubic hair is starting to grow back in. "Took it with me when I left. Only used it when -- ahhnn -- when became necessary."

Laurie's kneeling between his spread legs, rubbing lube into the cleft of his ass. She knows it drives him crazy; he's making a monumental effort to hold still, not to squirm against her fingers. It's usually frustrating when he lets her go this far and no further, but this time her heart is beating faster in anticipation.

"Wait," Dan says, stilling his right hand on Walter and looking down at the object in his left hand. "You mean -- all that time, when we were partners--"

Laurie stops, too, and looks up at Walter's face. He's silent, struggling, and then he says, "Yes. Not every night. But some nights."

"Oh my god," Dan breathes. "But you, you were so, you wouldn't even come up for coffee, you never -- oh my god."

Laurie's voice, dark and low: "Were you in a hurry to get home, Walter?" She's working him with her knuckles now, shining with slick. "Did you need to get right back to your crappy apartment so you could use this on yourself?"

Walter groans in agony. "Sometimes," he whispers.

Dan groans, too, and puts his head down against Walter's narrow shoulder. He thinks about Rorschach -- tense, grim, impenetrable -- and how far removed he seems from the man going slowly to pieces in his arms. But they're one and the same. He wants to ask what Rorschach was thinking about, those nights, but he can't make his throat work right.

Laurie asks it for him.

"Was it because of Dan?" she murmurs. "Because of Nite Owl? That you had to do that?"

Walter makes a sound like a wounded animal.

Laurie takes a deep breath, leaning in for the kill. Her voice is like velvet. "Did you think about him when you made yourself come?"

Dan thinks his vision is going to white out, but Walter is trembling, shaking his head. "No! No -- never did that -- wouldn't let -- No!"

Laurie's eyes go wide. She sits back on her heels, and she and Dan look at each other while Walter puts his head down and pants.

"Walter," Laurie asks carefully. "Do you mean you didn't think about Dan or -- do you mean you didn't come?"

Walter opens his eyes, finally, his pupils blown wide.

"It always came out of me," he said. "Came out of me anyway, but I tried not to feel it."

"Oh, GOD," Dan moans, and bites Walter's neck, hard.


They turn him to straddle Dan's lap, and Laurie spreads his legs further apart with gentle, firm hands. Walter's taking small, choked breaths, his face pressed against Dan's neck; if he were someone else she would think he was quietly weeping.

Dan looks up at her. "I think he's ready."

She presses the tip against him, and she's surprised when it starts to sink inside right away. Of course; his body would be trained to this. Walter makes a low, rough sound and presses back a little, helplessly. 

"You like that?" she murmurs.

He gives a terse nod. 

"Low...lower," he mutters into Dan's neck.

"You're going to have to show me, baby," she says. 

When he hesitates, Dan strokes his hair.  "It's ok, buddy," he says, low and reasonable.  "Show Laurie and me how you fuck yourself."

Laurie knows that when he's this far gone, Walter will usually do as Dan tells him. Sure enough, his hand is shaking as he reaches back. Laurie guides him to the handle, and closes her fingers over his. He starts a slow, circular grind, moving the thing inside him up and down more than in and out, keening a little on each downstroke. When he falters and lets go, Laurie keeps the rhythm. 

Her other hand is closed loosely around Walter's cock, and so she feels it when the first drops come seeping out of him. He's always wet when he's hard, but this is different -- slow, gentle convulsions at first and then a thick, uneven flow. When she brings her hand up to the light, what covers it is different from Walter's usual pre-come: milkier and more viscous.

"Oh my god," she says. "Dan --"

Dan puts a hand down to feel, and groans. "God, Walter," he mutters. "You're so -- oh, god."

Walter is moaning almost continuously now, and mouthing at Dan's neck. Dan looks at Laurie, and they have one of their near-psychic moments of collusion, and Laurie guides Walter back onto his hands and knees so that Dan can fill his mouth. 


He sobs, utterly relieved, and lets Daniel feed him cock while Laurel milks him. He feels hollowed out, held fast between them, and overwhelmed; he knows Laurel won't let him come, will keep working him until he's empty. It's a loss of control without the humiliating paroxysm of orgasm, and he's so grateful that they'll give him this. He laps at Daniel, swallowing around the head, and he doesn't even feel dirty when Daniel pants and spurts inside him. 

Daniel kisses his mouth after, stroking his rough jaw and whispering, "That's right, just let it out, let it come out." 


Walter has come once already tonight, but there's a fist-sized wet spot on the sheet beneath him by the time Laurie figures he's about tapped out.  She thinks she might be leaving a puddle of her own where she's crouched behind him, and she gives his spent penis a squeeze as she eases the thing out of his ass. Dan reaches out to gather him in.

It's the sweetest thing she's ever seen, but she's aching, and she feels like if she doesn't get something inside her right now she'll implode. She crawls up Dan's side and pokes experimentally at his dick: yeah, that's not coming back to life any time soon.

"Sorry," he says. "I think we're both um, K.O.'d."

"Fuck," Laurie says. She makes a grab at the box on the night stand, yanks out a sheet of kleenex, and wraps it around the part of the hairbrush that had been inside Walter. She hands it to Dan kleenex-end-first. "Use this," she says. 

There's a moment of silence and she realizes they're both staring at her, wide-eyed, their post-coital stupor blown away.  

"Laurel," Walter rasps. Dan looks at him. 

"Is it -- is it ok if --"

"Yes," he says. "Yes."

So then she's flat on her back, Dan sliding the clean end into her. Walter watches, his face blank the way it gets when he's too moved to remember to show it, and Laurie keeps her eyes on his as she works her clit, as Dan grinds up and up again. 

The thing is smooth and hard in her, and she thinks of Walter's hands on it, Walter alone in a series of sterile dormitories and roach-infested one-room apartments, Walter coming home from patrol with Dan and kneeling on the bed, his hands shaking as he holds the brush handle -- his palm closing around it just where it's stroking her now, where it's nudging up against just the right -- spot --

When it's over, her thighs still trembling, Dan eases it out of her and sets it gently, not without reverence, on the bedside table. Walter won't look at either of them, but he's holding her hand in his, as tightly as he can. 


Walter wakes before dawn. 

His partners are still asleep, tangled under the blanket. He takes the hairbrush from the bedside table and carries it to the bathroom, where he washes it carefully with soap and hot water. Then he goes back to his own room, and stores it away.

He sits down on his bed, and waits for a while for the usual tide of disgust and anger that follows whenever he lets them take him.  But it does not come. So he lies back, and watches the morning light creep slowly across the ceiling.

In an hour or so he'll go downstairs; they will be up by then, Laurel making coffee, Daniel spreading jam on toast. He'll let Daniel touch his shoulder as he sits down at the table with a bowl of cereal. He'll let Laurel kiss the sweet milk from his lips after.

And someday -- not soon, but someday -- he'll leave the hairbush out in the center of their bed, for them to find. Maybe he'll be kneeling beside it, ready and open.

They will know what he needs, then. He won't even have to ask.      


Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags



Most Popular Tags

Style Credit

Page generated Sep. 26th, 2017 02:27 pm
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios
November 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 2010