[personal profile] brancher
Title: After the Ball
Pairing: Dan/Rorschach/Laurie
Summary: a sequel to anon's excellent futa!Laurie stories, Surprise! and The After-Party. You should read those first, but here is Our Story Thus Far: Twilight Lady tried to engineer drugged sex between Nite Owl and the teenage Silk Spectre, who turns out to have a cock. Then Rorschach rescued them and everyone had sex. And...go! 

In the shower Laurie slumps against the wall and lets the hot water run over her body. Her cock is limp, finally, though not much smaller ("Well, if you gotta be hung, honey, at least you're hung like a bear," Sally says in her memory), and kinda sore. So is her cunt, where Nite Owl fucked her, and she fingers it carefully to see if she bled. Nope. Must have busted her hymen crimefighting or riding a bike or something.

Not bad, she tells herself. Fucked three people your first time out. Both genders and all three holes, and she giggles a little hysterically under the spray. She guesses it's good to have gotten it over with; maybe now it won't be as big a deal someday when (if) she finally ends up taking her clothes off in front of a guy who isn't drugged or gay. 

She thinks about Doctor Manhattan, who she's been kinda sorta working on seducing. She picked him because she figured he already knows everything he's ever going to know about her, so no unpleasant shock when her panties come off. Besides, she can't imagine Jon being shocked by anything. Or disgusted. She wonders if he knows about this, too, now, if somewhere down the timeline she is lying in his arms and telling him about tonight.

The only shampoo Nite Owl has is Head & Shoulders but it's better than nothing, so she works it through her hair to get the smell of Twilight Lady's boudoir out. She thinks about Rorschach, lying in Nite Owl's arms right now. It would have been nice to have that, she thinks; after all, it was her first time too. Then she there's shampoo in her eyes and she scrubs it out, telling herself firmly that she is not going to feel empty and she is not going to be clingy and pathetic, the way some girls on TV do after their first time. She was drugged, and it was fun, it was just sex. 

It doesn't have to be special.

She'll get Nite Owl to lend her some clothes, and then he'll call her a cab, and she'll go home. And that will be that. 

But there is already a folded bundle laid out for her when she steps out of the shower: boxers and sweatpants and a soft, worn Harvard t-shirt, and a note saying when you're done, come upstairs in Nite Owl's big looping handwriting.

Upstairs, she realizes as she sticks her head through the door, is Nite Owl's actual house. His actual kitchen in fact. It's ludicrously homey and old-fashioned, and there are owl-themed objects everywhere. 

Rorschach is sitting at the table, mask pulled down again, in trousers and shirtsleeves, and Nite Owl is standing barefoot in a robe at the stove, cooking what smells like scrambled eggs. I had my dick in him, she thinks, experimentally, and then, He had his dick in me. Somehow it feels weird to see someone she just fucked standing there scrambling eggs.

She smells coffee, too, and realizes she's ravenously hungry. 

"We just burned a lot of energy," Nite Owl says, turning to look at her as she comes in. "Trust me, if we don't eat something we're both going to feel pretty bad tomorrow morning."

He's wearing glasses.

It helps, somehow, being allowed into his real kitchen and seeing his real glasses. He looks dorky in them, and pretty; it had never occurred to her that the goggles might be prescription. She sits down in the chair next to Rorschach and Nite Owl puts a mug of coffee in front of her, black, without even asking. She is utterly horrified to feel herself starting to cry.

Rorschach is the one who notices, even though Laurie is looking at the ceiling as fiercely as she can and blinking hard, and breathing in through her nose to keep the tears in. "Miss Jupiter," he growls, alarmed, and she says, "Juspeczyk. It's p-Polish."

Nite Owl turns at the quaver in her voice, and Laurie is terribly aware that she's sitting there in Nite Owl's oversized clothes, with half her makeup kissed off and the rest washed off in the shower. She's sure she looks about 12 years old. Nite Owl looks horrified. 

"Laurie? What's wrong?" he says. 

"It's nothing," she says, blinking. "I think I'm just, um, crashing. Isn't that what happens after you take a drug?"

Oh, god, and it is exactly the wrong thing to say; she realizes it practically as the words leave her mouth. Now they're going to know that she's never been high before, either. 

"Oh my god," Nite Owl says, and fuck, this is all going wrong. "That was ...."

"No," she says, trying to make it sound like the dumbest possible suggestion. "Totally not. I've totally had sex before." And then before she can stop herself she's switching from bluster to sarcasm. "I'm totally fine whipping out my giant cock for unsuspecting dudes all the time, of course it was my first fucking time, what did you think?"

She knows they are both staring at her, but she's concentrating on not letting her nose run, and then her vision is blurring and tears are squeezing out of her eyes and making their way down her face. She feels her mouth twist. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

There's a clunk. She looks down and sees a blurry plate of eggs in front of her. 

While she's still staring at them, she feels Rorschach's small, dry hand enfold hers. She looks up. Nite Owl is sitting across from her. Laurie stares at him and hiccups.

"I'm sorry," he says. "We should have realized. Um. Look, let's eat our eggs and go in the living room and you can tell us about it. Ok? Um, I'm Dan."

There's a little pause while he stares meaningly at Rorschach until Rorschach says, "Rorschach."

"Did your momma name you that?" Laurie recovers enough to ask.

"Named myself," he says, and she looks over at him and even though the mask is down, she can tell he's being honest. 


Dan (Dan!) settles them in the living room , which is just as homey and old-fashioned as the kitchen, with huge glasses of water. Laurie sits crosslegged on the couch with her bare feet tucked under her.

"I didn't think," Dan says, sounding wretched. "I should have thought."

"It's ok," Laurie says, sipping her water. "I mean. It's about as good a first time as I could have expected, considering..." She makes a gesture toward her lap, where her cock is hanging free inside the loose boxers. It's incredibly comfortable, for once, not to have it tucked up between her legs.

Rorschach is shifting uneasily in his armchair. 

"Deflowered you," he rasps.

Now that they're paying attention to her it's easier to be confident. "Oh come on," she says. "We're even, ok? we deflowered each other. Like ... like Romeo and Juliet."

That sets Dan off, snerking into his sleeve. "What?"

"In a really fucked-up production," he says, and she starts to make snerking sounds too. Rorschach is unmoved, but he seems to relax fractionally.

When they both wind down Dan looks at her with his slightly magnified, very kind eyes. "When did it start?" he asks. "I mean. Did you always...?"

And then somehow it's easier than she thought it would be to just tell them. "I was normal until I was eleven," Laurie says. "Then it just started ... growing." She squinches up her face. "Worst puberty ever."

"What did you do?" This from Rorschach, still and watchful on the armchair. 

"I tried to ignore it. Knew it wasn't supposed to happen but I guess I hoped if I didn't look at it or touch it, it would go away." She shrugs. "It didn't."

"Uh, what about your mother?" Dan asks.

"She's not like me." Laurie looks down. "I couldn't hide it forever. I mean, it was basically this size by the time I was about thirteen. Mom freaked when she found out."

She remembers Sally rocking her and calling her 'baby," crying and ranting about the CIA and chemicals and taking after your father. Laurie knew Sally didn't mean Larry, that she was talking about Laurie's real father, Hooded Justice. But she didn't say anything, because she wasn't supposed to know about that. Mostly she had just wished she was dead.

"Anyway, she wasn't going to let a little thing like a giant dick ruin her plans for me," Laurie says, feeling a little proud of how bitter and grown-up she sounds. "She got some of her old showbiz friends, a couple of old drag queens, and they came over and showed me how to use a gaff."

Dan says, "So you just ... tuck it? Isn't it uhh, uncomfortable when you ... uhhh..." 

"It's worse when I get a hardon," Laurie says. "Which is like, all the fucking time." 

They both actually wince sympathetically.

"I can't stop thinking about ... doing things. That we did." She blushes, tells herself again, I've been inside them both, I've had my cock inside them, and makes herself say, "I think about fucking men. Women too. I ... I think I'm a freak."

"You're not a freak," Dan says. "And if you are, you're in good company." He sighs. "Look, it's almost four in the morning. Why don't you just crash here tonight, I'll go call your mother and let her know her you're ok."

"Don't tell her what we did," Laurie says as he gets up. 

Dan raises his eyebrows and cracks a grin. "I'm not suicidal, Laurie."

He and Rorschach go, and Laurie pulls the throw-blanket off the back of the couch and burrows into it. She can hear them talking in low voices in the hall, and she thinks about how amazing it was working her way inside Dan, how much tighter he felt than Leslie's loose, wet cunt. How coming in Rorschach's throat had felt like the best thing in the world, as if it was what she was made for. She wonders if he'll ever let her do it again. 

She only realizes that she fell asleep when Rorschach touches her shoulder and says her name. 

"Oh, hey," she says, still groggy. "I think I hit the wall."

"Bedroom's upstairs," he says, and helps her stand. She stumble a little against him, and he holds her up, his hand warm on the small of her back. They're almost the same height. 

"I'm sorry I fucked your boyfriend," she says.

He makes a noise in his throat. "Language unnecessarily lewd." She smiles, because she can already tell that means he's not angry.

"Had need," he says more quietly. "Carry a heavy burden. Cannot begrudge you." 

It's not quite "Sure, any time," but it'll do. She can't help but lean forward to kiss his cheek, and she thinks he's blushing under the mask.

Dan meets them at the top of the stairs. "Um, you're welcome to bed down with us," he says. "Or, uh, there's also the guest room, if, you know, you'd feel more comfortable..."

She wasn't expecting the relief she feels. "No, that's fine," she says, trying not to tear up again. "That's great, thanks."

They let her sleep in the middle; she can tell they're holding hands outside the covers, and it feels good to share this, the warmth between them. Dan pulls her closer, and she almost flinches before she remembers that she doesn't have to worry about him feeling her cock against his thigh.

"These boxers are so comfortable," she murmurs sleepily. "Mom only lets me wear panties." 

"I'll get you a pack," Dan says. She's too worn out to get hard again, but it feels good when he rocks against her a little, and she realizes Rorschach has taken his mask off in the dark when she fees his eyelashes against her cheek as he kisses her. He feeds her slow, sleepy kisses, and Dan fondles her affectionately, and as exhaustion overtakes her she thinks she's been adopted like a kitten. Maybe that's ok.


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