>>29164
Awesome.

< And I know it's not really porn, but it's one of my favorites.

>>29164 oh hey there bitey mcbitersons :D

have a little japan, too.

>>29194
What is this I don't even.

>>29194
I...don't get it? What exactly is going on in this picture?

>>29227
Well, Rorschach is dressed up as a woman from little house on the prairie.
And judging by the look on his face Dan appears to be molesting him.
But why?

>>29332

Where did this cyberpunk fad come from?

>>29359
More like Gaga-fag fad.

...sheesh, 15?

Well you guys have been busy.

(so...kink!meme fanart? High school kids? Imp!stach? Zombie!stach? Crossovers? Meme needs more art.)

What's this highschool AU I keep on hearing about?

It's a fic from the kinkmeme. Everyone's in highschool. I think it started with them putting on a play or something. Maybe Les Mis. Or Phantom. They do Phantom at some point. And right now Dan, Walter and Laurie are in a band. And a threesome. And there is also cute Eddie/Adrian and teacher!Hollis/Sally.

I have no idea where the begining of it is though. Have part 125 with sexy post-gig threesome?
http://spam-monster.livejournal.com/3498.html?thread=9043626#t9043626

Here's all the parts to the High School AU...
http://community.livejournal.com/watchfic_dir/36069.html

>>29384
That's... insane.
I'll go read it right now.

>>28801>>28823>>28833

Caped for epic win.

>>29552

lol it's a fukkin age-progression timeline. awesome.

Here /coq/, have some vintage Watchmen fanart.

>>29900

I love how you can't tell if Rorschach has been making out with Dan's face or his belly

>>29900

that was so fracking hilarious I snorted out boogers!

This comic just got a bajillion times cooler now

>>29590

no it's a less-OOC progression timeline

>>29924
Who's the sideburns guy? His character design is seriously amazing.

>>30349
I'm curious about this too, and the artist's DA seems to be missing.

>>30349
Inspector Javert from Les Miserable.

>>30676


I've always wondered what the OWLCAR looked like. The source book did mention Dan having an owl mobile. By the by, does anyone know Dan's middle name? It starts with an M is all I know.

>>30766

Considering who Dan is and how much of a super cool guy he is (read: fucking dork), I have to figure the M stands for something really awesome (read: really ridiculous).

Here's some good names:
Marlon
Marshall
Milton
Milford
Murray
Madison
Malcolm
Miller

>>30781

My money's on Mordecai.

>>30766
Something REALLY Jewish sounding, like Moshe.

>>30781

Minx? Dohohoho

>>29699
From the thumbnail I thought that was Pyramid Head/Rorschach.

>>30787

What I think is kinda funny, though probably totally unrelated, is that the Comedian's middle name also starts with an M.

>>30895
If Dan's middle name is something dorky and Jewish, the Comedian's middle name is 'Motherfucker'.

>>30897
More like 'Motherfuckerthenkillerthenraperofherdeadbody'...

>>30676
"Daniel. We are losing them..."
"They can't outrun us forever! This baby tops out at 20 mph!"

>>30676

RORSCHACH: *ngh* Having hand there... distracting.

DANIEL: I'm just trying to keep your adrenaline maxed! *smug smirk*

>>31125

Is japan reading hookerfic now? Because that would be awesome. And I will hope for reverse-weeaboo bomber jacket.

>>31150
WHERE IS THE REST OF THE HOOKERFIC? I stopped reading after Daniel wraps Walter up in a scarf, new coat, and gloves and goes out to FIGHT CRIME *fade to black*

>>31171

You. Shame. Here is the rest of hookerfic, now go to your room and don't come out until you're finished.

http://spam-monster.livejournal.com/2938.html?thread=7889018#t7889018

I finally stumbled upon liodain's stuff, and my first reaction was the very intelligent OM NOM NOM NOM.

No, but really, she's awesome.

http://liodain.livejournal.com/26178.html

Dan: Don't get mad!
Rorschach: Wha..?
Dan: You're injured, right? It'll be faster if I carry you!
Rorschach: Arm! Not leg!

Dan, king of subtlety.

>>31649
Nothing about this is subtle.

I mean, for God's sake, his BULGE IS SHINY.

Double Dan Duty.

>>31819
This is never not gonna be hot, I swear.

>>31819

looks like Japan has read lio's fic
hallelujah

>>32077

There is nothing sexier than a Ror with a 'sucky' face

>>31819
It's actually Dan x Rorschach x Police Office from one of the author's doujin. Still hot though.

So I read 'when Sick Wolf met Thinks Ahead', and it was great, and now I want to read the rest of the Ghost Rat AU.

Link please?

>>32703

http://community.livejournal.com/watchfic_dir/203525.html

Tomorrow's Rorschach's birthday! What are you going to get him, anons?

>>33362
D'aw...
I found this Birthday personality profile thinks, and I thought this was interesting XD

Your personal ruling planets are Mars and Jupiter.

You are a giver. You are a traveller and no doubt a person with high aspirations looking for power and meaning in your life. But what a mystery! In your life often the fulfilment you are frantically searching for is where you least expect it - in your own home. It is like the man who is looking for his glasses, which are all the while on his head.

If you can curb your temper and redirect some of these powerful energies, you will certainly achieve and fulfil your destiny.

Your lucky colours are yellow, lemon and sandy shades.

Your lucky gems are yellow sapphire, citrine quartz and golden topaz.

Your lucky days of the week are Thursday, Tuesday and Sunday.

Your lucky numbers and years of important change are 3, 12, 21, 30, 39, 48, 57 , 66, 75.

Famous people born on your birthday include Otis Spann, Gary Oldman, J.S. Bach, Matthew Broderick and Rosie O'Donnell.

>>33362
I want to print this out and tape it to the inside of my locker. P.S. I am in fifth grade.

>>33434
Shit just got shoujo. I would kill for a translation.

>>33434
R: the gift is nice..
You're always doing your best for me, that's enough, but..
But, no matter what...
I want to kiss your cute lips...
D: Rorscach...

ew I hope that's a joke haha.

New? old? Eh, still really hot

>>33494

UNF UNF DAT RORCHEST.

Speaking of old, who remembers this?

>>33530
The real question is who could forget

>>33541

It looks like Quentin Blake drew Rorschach as a four-eyed alien and Dan as Miss Piggy

>>33530
Oh, me. Lovely!

>>33638
wait, is that a bad thing?
Miss Piggy is fierce is all I'm saying

dat. ass.

>>33974

>>33974

so much for purple suit and wife beater...

>>33998

>>34253
haha, nice.

Happy Easter!

It's the height of summer, and the city clings to the heat of the daytime sun long into the neon-painted evenings. Rorschach has even left his trench coat behind, and tonight he's a blaze of pinstripe and dress-shirt as he drops another punk to the asphalt.

Even having made a concession to the weather, it still makes Dan sweat to look at him. He's got to be wearing a couple of layers still: a suit, shirt, vest and an undershirt, if he knows him as well as he thinks he does (as much as anyone can know him) - plus the fedora and the leather gloves /and/ that goddamn latex mask.

"Aren't you hot?" he says, panting lightly as he cuffs a couple of ko'd gang members to a lamp post. He feels kind of light-headed himself, and he's only wearing a single layer of Kevlar. His uniform doesn't breathe all that well.

A grunt from Rorschach, and a tilt of his head that Dan has learned to interpret. You're right, it means, but I'll never admit it. He adjusts the cuffs of his suit jacket, clearly conscious of Dan's scrutiny.

The horizon is brightening, silver seeping up into the deep sky, heralding the end of their night's work.

"Tomorrow, then," Rorschach says, touching the brim of his hat in farewell. He turns and takes a few paces before Dan speaks up.

"Hey," he says. "Come back to mine."

Rorschach turns abruptly, and the patterns on his mask judder and swirl. Dan realizes with burning embarrassment that it sounds like he is propositioning him. He's never really invited Rorschach back before; the guy usually just follows him home like a stray cat, eats Dan's leftover takeout while complaining about foreign food, then slinks off to wherever he came from.

"Um," he says, because actually it /was/ a proposition, whether he wants to admit it or not. "I mean, it's been crazy weather and I have a couple beers on ice and..."

Rorschach interrupts him. "I don't drink, Daniel."

"Well, yeah, I know that." Dan rubs the back of his neck and laughs. "Okay, forget I said anything. See you tomorrow night, man."

"Ehn," Rorschach says, and in a couple of strides he's abreast with Dan again. "Not interested in the beer, but..." He clears his throat. "Would appreciate use of your shower, if it wouldn't be an imposition."

"Not at all," Dan says, and manages to stop his grin getting too stupid.

#

Dan watches the dawn break from the comfortable vantage of his living room couch, soft pink-gold light spilling through the windows and brushing the floor with pastel shadows. His second beer is perspiring steadily and dripping onto his t-shirt, the cool bottle idly pressed against his face and skewing his glasses.

He heard the shower shut off not long ago, and he's entertaining himself by imagining Rorschach dressing fastidiously, one item of clothing at a time. It started as an innocent game, constructing his myriad layers like a paper doll, but now he's pleasantly buzzed and there's a certain warmth stirring between his thighs.

It's not exactly a good idea to think of his partner like this; not with the puritanical rants and espousing of right-wing ideals and the classically repressed dozens-of-layers thing he's got going on, and hell, not with him in the /house/. He always moves like a wild thing, though, and the efficient brutality with which he defends his streets is intoxicating. Tonight was no different.

Tonight /was/ different; tonight Rorschach was stripped back, even a tiny amount. It's a snagged thread, and Dan can't help but feel if he tugs hard enough, the whole persona will unravel and he will get to see what hides beneath.

Sometimes when it's been a chaotic, busy night, Rorschach forgets himself and grabs the back of Dan's neck to bring their heads close. He sometimes says, "Good job, Nite Owl," in that rusted voice, and Dan always thrills at his touch, at the hard-earned praise. It makes him want to slide his hands under the scarf and finger the seam of his mask.

He gives a low groan, and slides a hand against his groin. Goddammit, it makes him /hard/, especially when he catches the light just so, and the ink swirls like parting water and Dan thinks he can see him either grimacing or smiling, it doesn't matter which, just that he can see the faint impression of his mouth.

Dan licks his lips and cups himself through his pants. He's seen his partner's mouth a few times before, when he rolls the mask up over his nose to eat or drink or spit out blood. It's not pretty. /Nothing/ about him is pretty, it's all dour and blunt and raw, and usually bruised or sutured, too.

He lets his eyes slip closed and rubs himself, fingernails rasping against the zipper. He imagines pressing his fingers against the mask, sliding them into Rorschach's mouth. He'd bite. Dan's breath hitches.

"Daniel?"

Oh, Christ.

Dan crosses his legs and takes a slug of his beer before he dares to look over at his partner. He almost chokes on his mouthful.

Rorschach is barefoot, wearing only his pinstriped pants and half-buttoned shirt, dampened by his freshly-showered skin. His scarf is looped around his neck, suspenders hanging at his thighs. He's tense, hands fisted. "Thought I heard you..."

This is bad. Dan didn't even realize he'd been vocal, never mind loud enough to get Rorschach's attention - and then to catch Rorschach short of words, that's never good. The unfinished sentence hangs accusingly.

"Uh," Dan says, and straightens his glasses. "No, I was just, um."

"Are you injured? Foolish to leave a wound untreated." Rorschach moves closer, inkblots shifting into a series of patterns: wings; a cascade of leaves. Dan feels himself flush. There are curls of red hair on Rorschach's chest, and freckles, he's a redhead, oh god. He squeezes his eyes shut.

He opens them again when he feels his beer lifted away and placed on the coffee table.

"I'm not hurt," he says, words falling over themselves as Rorschach leans in to run his hands down Dan's arms, lifting them to check for wounds. Bare hands on bare arms. Dan can barely hear anything over the rush of blood in his ears.

"Feverish, skin is flushed."

"I'm not hurt," Dan repeats, more carefully this time. He sees the shift of latex; Rorschach running his tongue over his lips, contemplative. "Oh man," he says, mouth working faster than his brain. "Rorschach, put some more clothes on before I do something stupid."

A long, agonizing pause.

"What," Rorschach says, and straightens up.

Dan kind of wants to laugh at his consternation, but that would be awful of him. He throws him a rope and changes the subject instead. "Are you sure you don't want that beer?"

"Alcohol impairs your judgment," Rorschach says pointedly, though the barb doesn't disguise his apparent relief at the new turn to the conversation.

"It also helps you unwind," Dan retorts, equally pointed. He leans forward to catch his bottle up.

Rorschach folds his arms across his chest, roped muscle shifting under the thin fabric of his shirt. "Insinuating something, perhaps?"

"Nothing gets by you," Dan says, and thinks, oh god shut up shut up you idiot, but carries right on anyway. "You don't have a particularly good relationship with pleasure, do you, buddy?"

#

Rorschach is an intelligent man, Dan thinks, but like anyone else, he has his foibles. The calculated violence and ugly bigoted streak aside, he's uptight and stubborn to a fault, and he hates being wrong - especially when it means Dan is right.

And Dan has very recently discovered that he's also extremely loud when on the receiving end of a blowjob, and won't stay the hell still. Dan's barely breathed on him and he's already squirming, bare ass squeaking on the leather upholstery. Threatening to tie him down with his scarf and suspenders earned Dan a sharp knee in the gut, but one step at a time, hey.

"You trust me, right?" Dan murmurs, nosing at his cock. The soft glide of skin was a surprise at first, but of course he wouldn't necessarily be cut. It fascinates him. He runs a firm hand up Rorschach's shaft and makes the skin bunch up, then pulls it back again to reveal the plump head.

"Any reason why I shouldn't," Rorschach says, hooking his mask over his nose to catch his breath. Dan doesn't think he's ever sounded so alarmed, not even facing off against ridiculous, armed-to-the-teeth odds.

"No, just...god, just relax, man. Let yourself go." He runs his tongue over the head of Rorschach's cock, then catches his foreskin between his lips, works it gently. That earns him a noise that usually means one of them has been stabbed. Distantly, he thinks that patrols might get kind of physically awkward from now on, and that's more than a little messed up.

Dan presses his lips around Rorschach's cock, and Rorschach's hips surge beneath him and he breathes in sharp little gasps, grabbing at Dan's hair. He's not sure exactly what he was expecting, but for whatever reason, it wasn't /that/; he gags and pulls back before he chokes.

Dan wipes his watering eyes and tries to stop coughing. "Okay, maybe a /little/ restraint."

Rorschach looks aghast. Dan fails to keep a straight face. He is a terrible person. Without thinking, he leans up to kiss Rorschach, some idiotic attempt to reassure him or something, but Rorschach turns his face aside.

Okay then. Maybe it's not gay if they don't kiss.

Dan goes back to sucking his cock.

He digs his fingertips into the inside of Rorschach's thighs, pressing against hard muscle that is already tensing and relaxing in waves. No wonder the bastard is always so ready to punch someone; he's got one hell of a hair-trigger. It's as if Rorschach - or whoever he is when he's not being Rorschach - never takes care of himself.

Perhaps Dan was that little bit too close to the mark earlier. It would explain the rapid and kind of furious escalation of events, anyway.

It doesn't take much more: the press of his tongue on the underside of Rorschach's cock as Dan slides him from his mouth, and a firm stroke of his hand, thumb teasing the spot just under the head. He falls silent, pained groans given way to deep breaths. Dan's warning is a sudden mournful noise, and then Rorschach's muscles lock as he spurts against Dan's lips, runs hot over his fingers.

For a moment he has the perverted urge to lick his lips and grin lasciviously, but he quite likes his face the way it is so he just wipes his mouth on the back of his hand and glances up. Rorschach is sprawled slack-mouthed over the couch. The ink of his mask drifts in nebulous wisps as his breathing steadily slows, quietens.

Dan shoves his knee. He doesn't react.

"You're an ass," Dan says. "At least a token compliment, Jesus." Because he's such a goddamn authority on blowjob etiquette. He reaches into his pants to adjust his erection. "And what am I supposed to do with this, huh?"

He finds Rorschach's gloves on the hallway bureau, pockets them while he climbs the stairs. Later, when he sits on his bed and runs ratty, soft leather down his stomach, he decides that maybe Rorschach was quite complimentary after all.

>>34934

Fffuck yes, anon. This felt like vintage Dan/Rorschach, by which I mean it was delicious.

>>34934
I've not been so delighted by porn in ages. This is AWESOME.

>>34934
I need more first-time porn of this pairing in my life.

>>34840

dem nips

>>33530
This is the fic that the picture is based off of. Never have been a more proud writer (even if this was sort of crack, written for kink meme).

"Coasters NOT Optional"



Nite Owl had challenged the tyrany of the Underboss, taken down criminals twice his size with twice the firepower. Hell, before Archimedes was ever in the picture, he was flinging himself across rooftops with a grappling gun and spring-soled boots (that had really been a bad idea, all things considered). He had never felt so close to death.

It had been building up, really. It was only a matter of time. He had been pulling his hair out over the countless false alarms raised in the night from the clattering arising from his kitchen pantry. He woke up in the morning and there was no sugar for his goddamn coffee. Like a racoon- really, he couldn’t think of a better metaphor! Pawing through his inventory of canned goods, stealing away into the night without so much as a how-do-you-do. And just because he /had/ the money didn’t mean he /wanted/ to keep pulling it out of his pockets to keep repairing his door. He was beginning to entertain thoughts of having another housekey made, but then that would mean he was encouraging this sort of behavior.

Then again, what did it say when he went out night after night without saying a thing to the perpetrator? Rorschach was there every night -unless he wasn’t, which Dan never got notice of- riding beside him in the hull of Archie or striding strong at his shoulder in the streets. Neither of them said anything about it, and Dan simply had to sigh and shake his head because he was just as an enabler. It wasn’t all bad, after all. Sometimes his partner lingered when caught in the act of poaching, sat at the table and humored Daniel’s attempts at casual conversation. Sometimes. Or they talked about the next big bust, the details of their next mission, which he knew the masked man was much more eager for. And that was pleasant.

Lately, though, lately it had been trying Dan’s saint-worthy patience. Five nights in a row, they’d been chasing down a drug ring that seemed to be three steps ahead. Much to Nite Owl’s dismay, they had even taken the sewers in hopes of surprising what they had been led to believe was one of the higher up officers. Again, a little fish, a front man that knew as much about anything as the vigilantes. Another address to search, an abandoned warehouse to show for it. Even if he let Rorschach drag him through the streets until he was raw one breadcrumb after another, Nite Owl knew they were going to have to slip back under the radar again, wait for mistakes to be made. He knew it wasn’t what his partner wanted to hear, wasn’t something he would be convinced of through the same trivialities that made Dan want to throw his hands up.

He awoke to the sound of his basement door hitting the wall downstairs, meaning his partner had taken the route into the lair. Probably had taken some tools too. Dan reluctantly rose from his bed- he knew Rorschach wasn’t getting any sleep over this. Infuriated, no doubt, that he kept being had. Couldn’t blame him, but something needed to be said.

Daniel found him with a can of peaches in one hand and a can of Coca-Cola in the other, nestled in the crook of his downstairs couch. He had his mask drawn up to his nose, all square jaw and stubble and loud noises as he slurped the juice from the peach can.

“Amastad another wash. Potential bases running out.” Was all he had to offer. He had a dog-eared map spread on the table before him, marks all over it where they had found information and crossed out every failure. Dan noticed they had increased substancially.

“I’ll say,” Dan mused, “You’ve nearly covered the whole city.”

“Necessary for success.”

“Yes, desperation calls for drastic measures...”

There is a tense silence. Rorschach chews on a peach slice with ruthless fervor. Schlorp schlorp.

“Listen, Rorschach,” Dan sighs, feeling sorry for letting his exhaustion get the better of him. “They know we’re looking for them. Even the dumbest criminal can avoid an investigation if they know the roads we’re taking.”

“So change course.” With the mask out of the way, Dan could see Rorschach was speaking through gritted teeth. He wasn’t going to let this go. He kind of had the pitbull thing going for him. But Dan wasn’t amused. He was tired and he was beginning to feel desperate for his friend.

“We need to lay low for a while. Make them think that we quit.”

“Hrn. But /they/ won’t quit.” He set the can of peaches down on the coffee table and cracked open his can of coke, taking long swallows and wrinkling his short nose reflexively as it burned all the way down. “Can’t let them win.”

Daniel knew it. Somehow, Rorschach had gotten it into his head that he had something to prove to himself by persuing this case. Neither of them could possibly know it now, but things were going to get a lot worse in the future, the stakes would be much higher. Right now Daniel thought his partner was wound so tight he was bound to pass out from brain deterioration (from the man’s clear insomnia) all from clutching at coat tails. Rorschach was taking this way too seriously for his own good, but he was too damn ate up with it to see reason. And Dan wasn’t really good at being anything but reasonable when baring down his friends and colleagues. He was still grasping for something to say when Rorschach said it.

“Don’t need to come. You rest, Daniel.”

Maybe the masked man hadn’t meant it to be patronizing, didn’t mean for it to sound like he was implying Nite Owl step aside. But Daniel reared his head back like he had been slapped all the same, the words making him blink behind his glasses in rapidfire offense. It stings. He is a young man then, they both are, and he has his pride too.

“You stubborn bastard, you’re going to be so dazed that /if/ you find them, they’re not even going to have to try and kill you. You’ll keel right over! Goddamn you.”

He’s seething and Rorschach ignores him. Ignores him! He places down his coke on the table and leans back into the couch, head turned toward the door. He’s thinking about leaving. In the next moment he will. Dan’s eyes draw to the shimmering beads of sweat that are coming from the can and are beginning to form a puddle on his table.

“Are you going to put that on a coaster?” He whispers, nearly hoarse with rage and desperation.

“No.”

That’s it. The shit hits the fan.

Daniel and Rorschach are a tangle of limbs and anger on the couch where Dan has thrown himself at his partner with the pure intent of strangling him. No shake of the head or finger waggle- Oh, Rorschach, you pig-headed rascal, you! Just raw energy that has them stuggling against one another, trying to do harm and gain control of the situation all the same. Rorschach’s hands are slamming into Dan’s chest, pounding his back, pushing his cheeks and lips into odd angles as he both tries to fight and flee. Daniel shows how much of a saint he’s not, cursing Rorschach’s name and his crudeness and letting out everything he’s been holding back for weeks. It’s enough to make a sailor blush.

The wrestling is so violent it flips them both over the couch. Rorschach ends up on the bottom, so it winds him, and Daniel is shaking him like he can rid the man of all his horrible habits just by that. It’s all so rediculous, watching the other’s head waggle like a bobble doll, his mouth still agape with surprise, and he doesn’t care he’s so frustrated. And god, Rorschach smells so damn bad he wants to gag; he probably hadn’t even washed his clothes since the sewer incident. Before the shorter man can do anything like cold-clock him, Daniel pins his wrists and sinks his weight down just as Rorschach begins to buck and roar.

“GET OFF!”

“SCREW YOU, RORSCHACH!” He yells right back at him, though he sounds more like a dove trying to crow. Or an owl screeching. “We’re doing it MY WAY. You OWE ME.”

But Rorschach simply thrashes, gritting his teeth and curling his lip defiantly. Though they can’t be seen, his eyes are burning. The mask ripples his fury for him in distressed spatterings. “Action NOW!”

However, Dan knows his weight is too much for his partner (or soon to be ex-partner, it looked like) to handle in this position. He still fears for his life, fears that the man will rear up and tear out his throat with his teeth. He’s so powerful and raw even now. They pant harshly between one another for more moments, staring the other down though it’s hard to take Dan serious with his so glasses askew and his hair frazzled up like feathers of an irrate bird. Dan has the advantage, though, so it’s his move. And he gets a terrible idea, an idea that he thinks may bring him pains worse than death. But it just may work.

While they’re taking the next breath, the brunette’s hands free themselves from their white-knuckled death grip on the smaller man’s wrists. Only milliseconds exist as he delves them deep inside the trenchcoat beneath and find the muscled sides of his captive, squeezing just enough to tease the muscle. Rorschach goes as stiff as a plank, his head rearing back to thump the floor. Dan continues, and gloved fingers spring up to try and ineffectually claw at his arms as Rorschach chokes then makes a sharp keening sound.

“Ennk! Ennk!”

Dan begins to feel a grin stretching his features, and his fingers are livid up Rorschach’s sides as the man gasps and squirms and wheezes before finally, yes, finally he is laughing. You couldn’t really call it laughing by normal standards, it’s more of a whispery choking noise and the occasional snort from the man’s nostrils as he tries to suck it back in. He’s even harder to hold onto when they were fighting, kicking and arching, slapping at Daniel’s face only to miss because the man saw it coming.

“Dan--iel! Stop! No! Kke-ghh--!”

“No more bashing in the door!” The brunette rattles off his demands, “No more pilfering! Late night snacks- you ask!”

The masked man’s body strains beneath him, trying to twist away and finding no purchase. “Ys--ck!”

“What?”

“YES!”

Daniel can see moisture trickling down from the mask, clear rivulets down the speckled cheeks and past the gasping tight-lipped smile that may have been forced but still makes Daniel feel so damn accomplished.

“You’re staying here tonight and sleeping! On the couch! And you’ll be here in the morning! We’re going to talk!”

That one is a little harder, but he knows if Rorschach makes the promise he can’t go back on it. There is a brief struggle where the smaller man grits his teeth and tries to frown. Daniel reaches down and finds the crook of one of his knees, squeezes the muscle above the kneecap until the man howls what he wants to hear before dissolving into laughter again. He knows the man will be angry with him later, but he savors this, grinning as he affectionately bumps foreheads with his partner and flips off a shoe.

The fun is over when Rorschach pretty much kicks him across the room for running a thumb up the ball of his foot. It’s a gut shot, so the brunette only manages the edge of his kitchen before he’s puking all over the tile. Rorschach apologetically, if awkwardly pats his back while he heaves. He huffs indignantly when Dan grins back at him. But he isn’t petty, even if the defeat makes him ashamed of himself (for being taken down by tickling, of all things, but he’s never been touched in that way in his life either) and wounds his pride. He pulls down his mask and he flops on the couch while Dan goes to clean up the mess. He also transports his can of soda to a coaster.

Later he begins to forget his promises, though at first he will slip in the windows and shake Dan awake for his nightly visits. But Dan manages to finally talk some sense into the man that next morning, and since Rorschach has finally gotten his sleep he’s a bit more agreeable. There’s really only one of the promises he needed to be kept. The rest he can work out along the way.

>>35724
om nom nom I keep alternating between staring at his face and his dick.

DAT ASS

>>35815
DAT ASS FO EVAH

>>35814
nice rack

>>35814
I like his face in this! Not convinced by the rack though.

>>35814
His nipples are crooked. Hunh.

a flash of enlightenment in all this blood and thunder

>>37210

please sir, can we have some more enlightenment?

>>37617
AWWWWW.

I love how terrified Rorschach looks, and Dan's Jew nose.

Freckles
---

"Why do you do that?" Rorschach asks one night as they lie side by side in Dan's bed. They have gone through the motions of the shameful act again, and the masked vigilante is sleeping with his back to his partner naked as the day he was born. Aside from the latex face, of course. The pinstripes and leather have been left in a heap to cool long ago, when the night had stretched out tantalizingly after patrol and they had inadverdantly brushed against each other that night one time too many. Both wore fresh bruises from being slammed around Archie’s interior, teeth and lips and fumbling hands. They really needed to stop doing things that way.

Daniel’s hand ceases its movement in mid-arch, fingers curling away. He is embarrassed because he had thought his partner had fallen asleep long ago. A flush crosses his face hotly in the dark, and he’s glad his face is turned from the moonlight streaming through his window. Even if Rorscach looks, he wouldn’t be able to see. He doesn’t.

“Pardon?” He asks, cautiously amused.

“That. Touching me.” Rorschach’s voice is blunt, unreadable. He can be so damn moody sometimes, Dan thinks. It’s really off-putting, makes it hard to remember how Rorschach clung to his hips desperately as he came, murmured things to Dan’s ear that he would deny vehemently afterward, all in the rapture of the moment.

But Dan forces himself not to flinch away at the disheartening question. Instead, he smiled softly to himself, presses his lips to the small vertebra at the base of the redhead’s neck to share. Shyly, he concedes, “You have freckles.”

And a lot of them, too. In the dusty light that filters through the window of his bedroom, the light brown speckles stand out clear against Rorschach’s pale skin. He had been tracing them, as he (shamefully) always did when they were like this. It made Dan flustered to think the point was only being brought up now, that he had not been doing this as secretly as he had thought. The discovery had been quite an anomaly, shifting into a quiet novelty for the inventor. He would have never guessed, and yet it was so appropriate.

Rorschach grunted disapprovingly in response, diminishing the affectionate value of the situation immediately. “Stop. I don’t need to be reminded.” They were a pox upon Walter’s body, a blemish on Rorschach’s tool. He had no love or pride for the marks, and didn’t appreciate Nite Owl’s blatant upturning of them. Not for the first time, Rorschach reminded himself that Daniel was a good man, and left his fingers intact.

The brunette frowns deeply at that, and before he’s really thinking he sits up and roughly rolls the smaller man onto his back. Rorschach really is tired, so he doesn’t fight even as his wrists are pinned by Nite Owl, a half-hearted growl rasping behind his mask as the other man leans over him. He doesn’t reciprocate when Daniel kisses his lips through the latex, but he doesn’t punish him for it either. A lecture, perhaps, he thinks, and closes his eyes to fall asleep to Daniel’s prattle. He opens them with a start as he feels something sharp and hot on his neck.

“Daniel--!” He gasps as the taller man lavs at the afflicted spot with his tongue. Rorschach is livid now, beginning to struggle and buck, nearly biting through his tongue when Dan just gives in and begins to suck on his skin. Unphased, and as if he might have predicted it, the mechanical genius straddles his waist and uses his weight to keep the rebellious vigilante in place.

Rorschach is such a splendid machine, Dan thinks, if far too overwound. Predictable enough, when they’re like this. He begins his work tuning the man the way he wants again, sucking hard at a place along the redhead’s jugular and receiving a shameless thrill at the hammering tempo beneath his lips. Rorschach is probably gritting his jaw so hard his teeth are in threat of breaking, steeling himself to the attack and making his body rigid. Dan continues anyway, knowing the man could get away if he seriously wanted to. There is a nasty looking mark in the pale moonlight as the brunette relinquishes his hold, and he is pleased. He moves to nip at his partner’s collar bones, leaving another mark on his right pectoral just below the clavical. Rorschach says his name again when he scrapes his teeth over one of his nipples, softer and with much less grit, and Daniel knows he has him. It’s almost as if the other is an entirely different person now.

Walter moaned and choked pitifully behind the mask as Dan’s head descended his body, the sheets going away with him. He shouldn’t feel so good about being marked, should be outraged, but the other man’s smouldering passion is making him burn slowly again and ache for more. Walter is unable to look away as the process happens, and wants to simply melt away as the soft tongue delves into his navel and licks a hot trail up his abs. Rorschach wants to throw the man into the sheets and fuck him like the whore he is. Their eyes roll into the back of their head and another groan is fought down.

“I like them.” Dan says in a determined stage-whisper, kissing lightly at the freckles on Rorschach hips. He has shifted down to settle between the redhead’s legs, hands still a vice on those wrists but not quite as effective now. The man above merely whimpers and thrashes a little, growls in a torn, feral way. Daniel leaves marks on his belly and his hip bone, and bites the soft flesh of the other’s inner thigh. It’s cause for a yelp, an involuntary kick. The larger man knows his partner appreciates it because it makes him harder, the untouched erection just bare inches away from his cheek. He avoids it for a while, knowing Rorschach won’t beg for it but driving him crazy anyway. He waits until he’s worked the man to rough pants between his teeth, leaving a few more marks in the meantime, before he takes the hard cock into his mouth and gives a good, long pull. The masked vigilante comes undone, goes limp everywhere else besides his thighs. Those tremble, parting with reluctant wantoness. A low, gutteral noise of pleasure stretches out from above and Daniel feels a very hard stab of arousal in his stomach. He could probably fuck Rorschach now if he wanted, but he wont. His mind is on other things.

A few licks to the head to assure himself, and Daniel releases the paler man’s hands. He doesn’t taste the precum that he laps off the other’s member, doesn’t dare think of when he guesses the man last showered. He just adjusts his jaw and takes the man in as far as he can manage before swallowing. They’ve done this before, but Dan still feels insecure about it. Rorschach doesn’t seem to notice- he’s reached up to pull his mask over his nose to gasp for more air, issuing strange noises wholly characteristic of an equally obscure personality.

“Nngh-- ggkk... ahh!”

His head falls back, and Walter can’t look away from what Dan is doing to him. The man seems to be enjoying himself, lashes long against his pale cheeks as he concentrated on his work. Daniel was beautiful, he thought, and yes, it did take the man sucking him off to admit that. Filthy, filthy, filthy... He reached his hands down and wove them into the man’s soft brown locks, not giving a damn about what his alter ego thinks of him and traitorously enjoying the feel. He squeezes at the roots a little, for Rorschach, knows the motion is not strictly polite but does it anyway. Dan doesn’t seem to mind. He chokes again, adams apple bobbing hard in his throat as hands slip down and cup his ass. Dan backs off a little to keep his gag reflex from going off and Walter nearly thrusts into him out of pure panic that he’s going away entirely.

He’s at the stage where he isn’t in the mind of what he’s saying anymore. Daniel, spurred on by the soft pants of ‘yes’ and ‘more’ and ‘/please/’, sucks gratuitously and dips his head up and down. He squeezes the man’s ass possessively in time with some of it, working the man’s hips however he wants and paying little attention to the hands in his hair. He’s so involved in what he’s doing, in the ludicrous and nearly obnoxious noises they’re making at each other, he’s surprised when Rorschach comes hard in the back of his throat. It contracts spasticly, not knowing whether to swallow or throw up. The other man calls his name in rapture, hands gripping his own face and biting his fingers like he can’t stand it anymore.

Dan has to spit some of it on the bed, but luckily the redhead is too distracted to notice. He himself is hard enough to be very uncomfortable, just from sound alone, but he doesn’t speak a word as he crawls back up beside his partner and kisses him roughly until he responds in kind dazedly. He’ll wrap his arm around Rorschach’s waist and pull him flush against himself, and for once the masked vigilante won’t protest. He won’t say a damn word as Daniel resumes tracing the freckles on his shoulders, even on the arches of his cheek bones, but sometimes he trembles, just barely. He touches Dan’s chest as if shy and the brunette won’t complain. They fall asleep, and Rorschach is gone in the morning with his clothes.
---

In his dingy appartment, Walter stands naked near his window and looks down at himself. The marks Daniel left are various shades of red and purple, and he’s glad his day job has him wearing clothes that can have high collars. He touches them, quietly, sober. They stand out so ugly on his skin that Walter admits the freckles, in comparison, aren’t so bad at all.

Anyone have that fic where Dan makes Walter wear the mask he made? Might have been a hooker AU, can't really remember. Polite sage.

>>38010

Fffff, yes it's not lost forever! I loved this when it was posted ages ago and was so pissed when it was lost to the broken archiving. So good to see it again.

>>38010

Me lovies you, writefag. That was delicious.

>>38348
Looks like he's wearing Dan's clothes in this one.

derp

>>39403
yessssss ride that beast unf

>>30897

Sadly, it's "Morgan" in both the comic and movie. "Motherfucker" fits him better.

The Gelfbury series "Watchmen: The High School Years" isn't half bad in terms of Rorschach/Dan material. It's on YouTube.

Does anyone remember the fic from way back when called Glass Owls? What ever happened to it? Also the fic from before where Rorschach was captured by Twilight Lady's henchwomen that was going to turn into tickle torture. Where did they go, everyone, where?

>>40164

Latest chapter of Glass Owls I could find is here: http://community.livejournal.com/rraaarrlship/68578.html. Looks unfinished, dunno if there's anything beyond that part.

>>38020

Request seconded. I want this bad.

>>40164

Eep, the hench ladies tickle torture fic was mine. I left it so blue balled, I know. I'd like to pick it up again..

>>41077

The kink meme would be very happy if you did.

Goes with this: http://quiprofanfics.livejournal.com/12188.html

>>41077
Yes please! Continuation would be appreciated

>>41086
>>41221

Aw man ILU kinkmeme. Now I have to. Any requests content wise? Else I will just start it up when I have the time (I am finishing finals this week)

>>41222

Are we talking about the fic where all the henchwomen are named after times of day? Because if so,

FUCK YEAH CONTINUATION

and also, no requests in particular from this anon. Things were progressing fantastically well from what I recall.

>>41222
Hell yeah I loved this story! Do whatever you wanna do, I'm sure it'll be hot!

Who remembers this?

http://sugar-magic.livejournal.com/1235.html#cutid1

>>41222
Anon has HUGE happy face on after seeing this. Write, my pretty, write away!

If this has been done, please kindly point me in the right direction, If not: Request?
The two start up with sexy shenanigans, but Dan only ever sees Rorschach from knees to nose. The two run into each other during the day (out of costume) and Dan starts courting Walter, with Dan having a 'You seem so familiar but I can't put a finger on it' vibe.
And when I say 'courting' I mean like, subtle 'Let's grab some coffee'/'Brewskies at my place' deal.
y/n? :x

Anyone have a link to where the hench tickle torture fic has been posted?! I sort of need this more than breathing right now.

>>41319

This one, I believe.
http://spam-monster.livejournal.com/813.html?thread=3885#t3885

>>41321
I'm not sure that was it. Does anyone remember?

>>41214

FFFFFFff

Naughty boys. So naughty.

(I love your Dan, B. He always looks so solid and sweet and grabbable)

>>41222
OMFG REALLY!? I love you please continue!

>>42298

I am convinced that this picture is the result of all the hooker and crossdressing fic being put in a blender and then served over ice with a black silk panties umbrella and a slice of lemon.

>>42298
>>42719
I can't stop laughing, oh shit

>>42719
That expression is literally impossible to make. You can't smile like that and have just a teeny corner of your tongue sticking out, you make this warped freaky grimace smile face and it is NOT SEXY AT ALL.

...I know. I just tried.

Quiztime, Newfags! Who's your favorite US President?

Teddy Roosevelt!

Errr...

>>42745
Hurm. Truman.
Good man.

>>42745

Nixon. Because he made Watchmen possible.

>>42745
/r/ a repost of that one pic of Dan calling out for Laurie...and Rorschach calling for Truman. MAKE MY DAY.

>>41222
Are you really going to continue this story? If you are then you have just made my month amazing!anon

>>43468

>>43468
>>43723

Artist anon is boggled that anyone remembers that, let alone saved it. c=

Not sure if this is a repost, but even so, here it is.

>>43785

I imagine him doing this to make Dan laugh hysterically.

SO THIS ISN'T RORSCHACH/NITE OWL
but it gave me a giggle-fit, so I had to share.

>>43723
Haha yessss, thank you!
>>43735
And thank YOU!

>>44830
HNNNNG
Tell me this is based on a fic. Please.

Guys. GUYS.
It took me until today to find out that Ted Kord (Blue Beetle) is DC's Nite Owl. Why did it take me until now?
I mean I knew they were similar but...

>>45404
...B-but Nite Owl is DC's Nite Owl!

>>45404
Oh you silly billy. They're all explicitly inspired by existing comic book characters. Rorschach is the Question, Comedian is Peacemaker, etc.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Watchmen#Characters

>>29300
>but why

...because it's been established canonly that Dan is one mild mannered kinky bastard who gets it up best when everyone's dressed up.

>>44830

I miss this sort of content, thank you

>>44830

sauce for the shaving pic plz

...and on the subject of sauce, i heart when the author add their name and site at the bottom of the picture. I usually save it with the filename, but since the chan sites strip the file names, I think it's better if we add it with the picture in paint, like, drag down a line of space at the bottom of the picture and add the author name and title.

>>46578
If I'm not mistaken, it's the same artist as the picture you just posted (liodain). Same style, and it's signed "lio"

>>41222
Are you still going to continue the story anon? If you are then I love you!

Here you go, Anon. :3

>>47159 UNF. Nice.

>>44830

this one gets me more hot than some of the explicit ones do.

is this part of a fic?

>>48294
Dying laughing here

anon is on the look out for long fics. Can be gen WM or Rorschach/N.Owl.

Any recs coq?

>>49368
Last Days of an Unreal City - http://scarlet-carsons.livejournal.com/7736.html
AU, there's a nuclear apocalypse instead of squid

Now, as Before - http://etherati.livejournal.com/8531.html
ZOMBIES

Between the Brushstrokes - http://etherati.livejournal.com/15453.html
Post-Karnak, Dan and Rorschach are transported ten years into the future

Playing a Poor Hand Well - http://steals-thyme.livejournal.com/24692.html
Dan's bank account is compromised. He stays with Rorschach while they work the case

Moonless Night - http://daylilymoon.livejournal.com/8002.html
Rorschach is blinded and Dan helps him adapt

Stars - http://daylilymoon.livejournal.com/3121.html
Western AU

>>49564

thanks kind anon! I was just listening to the podfic of Now, As Before and that's what got me looking for more longer fics. ;)

>>49564

dude, +4 owns. look how helpful you people are

>>49564

Not recommending Spy's masterpiece? Shame shame, anon.

Ordinary World by i-am-your-spy
AU where Rorschach is spared, and Dan has to pick up the pieces.
http://i-am-your-spy.livejournal.com/

>>49995
I KNEW I FORGOT ONE. D:
I am suitably shamed, thank you for picking up my slack.

>>49564

moar:

Remember Me as a Time of Day
http://community.livejournal.com/watchfic_dir/481648.html
Rorschach loses his memory, Dan takes care of him

Nocturnal
http://community.livejournal.com/watchfic_dir/486931.html
Dan is a werewolf.

Impschach
http://khilari.livejournal.com/5199.html

The Widening Gyre
http://etherati.livejournal.com/29868.html
Dan and Rorschach stay in a haunted house

Cast Away
http://community.livejournal.com/watchfic_dir/204660.html
Rorschach and Dan crash on the way home from Karnak and get stranded on a desert island

My Only Friend is Imaginary
http://www.fanfiction.net/s/5166445/1/My_Only_Friend_is_Imaginary
Instead of a mask Rorschach made a living doll out of the dress


You should check out the OT3 epics too

>>50028

I had missed Nocturnal somehow and now I have a new hugelong fic to read that is turning out really good. Thanks anon!

So I'm trying to find a link to download the podfic of "Now, As Before" and it is kicking my ass for some reason. Do you have to be eljay friends with the reader to see that entry? I dun wanna make a journal. somebody call the waaahmbulance

>>50316 She stopped podficcing and afaik took down all the files for previous podfics, so if it's anywhere to be found it wouldn't be on her journal.

Probably a repost, but whatever.

>>50316

You could try asking on the meta post for the kinkmeme, or at Watchdom. That's usually your best bet for finding the rare and unusual in this fandom.

People make podfic? Huh. Who knew?

>>50316

ask anon on the kinkmeme or etherati's journal
You can't download it direct from the reader anymore afaik, so you need to find someone who's saved it.

>>50316

Let me see if this works. I tried to upload the "Now, As Before" podfic for you all b/c it's awesome. Seriously, it's a zombie AU, so download it asap.

http://www.mediafire.com/?acov10alpfalyyn

>>50392

It worked. I'm not the OP, but thanks anon! Podfic should be interesting.

>>50392
original requester here. Thanks a lot! Really lightened up a long car ride, lemme tell you. Have some Rorschach pron from the distant past of last year.

>>50593

glad to lend a hand! Esp with sharing such an awesome podfic.

>>38020
>>40213

'Think this is it. Saved the writer's note and everything--such a great story...:

I finally got round to finishing the aggressive!Dan/hobo!Walter that I briefly mentioned sometime before. I tried to fit as many wee kinks as I could, but it's my first fic and I'm still not very sure about it. They're both pretty disjointed and OOC, but lets just say Walter was gagging for a bit of hot identity pornings, and Dan is just goddamned sexually frustrated.
------------------------------

Above the city, storm clouds were gathering; a slowly churning mass, the same ill purple-yellow of old bruises. Weak buttery light barely reached the streets below as the clocks crawled past 5pm, and the early evening air was saturated with moisture and the promise of thunder. Daniel eyed the sky with a degree of distrust as he expected the heavens to burst at any moment and drench the ruefully umbrellaless fools of New York.
"- and it had been so nice this morning, which just goes to show you can't even trust the damn weather anymore these days -" In response he merely gave a mollifying smile and pressed a few coins into the waiting palm of the ever-chattering newspaper vendor. Normally, he might stay for a moment and make small talk, but he wasn't in the mood for it then. Tucking his rustling purchase under his arm he stepped out into the busy street again. Old fool. Since when could you ever trust the weather? He smirked, and shook his head. Tomorrow he would be insisting that Heather the Weather Girl was in league with the Reds or some bullshit.

Daniel had the bad habit of watching his feet instead of where he was going, which wasn't a good idea at any time of the day in NYC but was down right thoughtless during rush hour. He brushed past countless shoulders, his gaze lowered to a foot infront of his worn brown loafers as suits grew impatient behind him. Comfortable brown shoes to go with his comfortable brown jacket because he was just comfortable brown Daniel Dreiberg. He would rather watch legs than faces, rather run the risk of a casual bump than accidental eye-contact. The first few pregnant drops of warm rain fell like wet little bombs and the homeward bound crowds seemed to speed up all at once which only succeeded in slowing them down as a whole. He couldn't have been more than a few blocks away from his apartment, so he didn't care much though he did wish people had more patience. It was just then as felt an urgent shove from behind as someone with a briefcase squeezed his way through the trudging masses like a snake, and Dan struggled to keep his balance. He over compensated with a step or two to the left and ended up walking straight into a stationary man. He reeled back with mumbling apologies as he lifted his gazed to see his victim - and froze.

The man was not a stranger. Daniel had seen him a hundred times before, stoically prowling the streets from the diner to his apartment. His eyes worked from the shock of dirty red curls to the stoney colourless gaze down the dirty brown suit, and his mouth went dry. He was a couple of inches shy of perfect, but the strong jaw, the wiry frame hidden beneath filthy layers, the downturned mouth and thin lips made up for that. Christ, he could even smell him from there. Dan had never spoken to him, never even come with fifteen feet of him but he had watched him before - every day he would stand like a sentry in his chosen spot, his sign proclaiming the approaching apocalypse slung over his shoulder like a gun. Eyecatching yet instantly forgettable. Repulsive yet attractive, an enigma in dirty rags. Dan wet his lips with a nervous tongue as they stared at each other for what seemed to be a century.

"It's raining," he said dumbly after a moment. The man adjusted his possessive grip on the sign but said nothing, his face as forcefully passive as ever, "Your placard will be ruined."
Still no response. Daniel could feel himself shriveling up under that cold blank stare. He squirmed slightly, kidding himself he didn't know where he was really going with this. Kidding himself that he hadn't played over this situation a hundred times in his head with a hundred different people.
"Do you...have somewhere to go?...To - y'know, stay?"
The filthy man stayed barely long enough to hear Dan's innocent question. He side stepped him and continued on his glum purposeful march to nowhere in particular. The bespectacled Samaritan was left floundering for someway to stop him. This was just too good an opportunity to pass up.
"I-I'd pay you," he spluttered, pretending not to notice the funny looks he got from passers-by. The tramp stopped midstep as though he had been stricken, and turned with a snarl that sent shivers through Dan. Yellowing teeth bared, eyes flashing, body tense for just a moment - it was perfect, absolutely perfect, "A hundred dollars, in cash."
The sudden flare of anger was gone, and gingery brows creased in a cross between disgust and distrust. Dan knew what he was thinking - scum. He was scum, and by god he was so right but if he didn't do something about it - about Rorschach, about this crazy wonderful man - he would surely explode. He was just human after all, he had needs just like anyone else and they surely weren't worse than most of New York's. Struggling to maintain eye contact, Dan swallowed hard. /Hit me,/ he urged silently as the seconds carried more weight than all the raindrops in the world as they fell away. /Do something. Yell, walk away, sock me right in the jaw, but just do something don't just look at me like that/. His nerves wouldn't - couldn't - hold out any longer, and he turned to go with a muttered apology. Evidently the redhead wasn't quite as desperate as he looked. "Forget it," he said though he was too far and too quiet to be heard. Shame and frustration rolled in his belly like two hot stones and he sighed, "Thought you were someone else. My mistake."

Daniel decided to take the long way home, crossing the street as quickly as possible and slipping unnoticed down a reeking alleyway. His flat was only a couple of blocks away from the forecaster of doom and his stupid sign, but he didn't want to go straight there incase the man found out where he lived. Not that there was really any threat of that. He was clearly as interested in him as he was in something you would scrape off the bottom of your shoe, and right then Dan felt like that was exactly what he was. He couldn't believe he had just prepositioned a stranger - a man - for sex. A hundred dollars? A hundred fucking dollars? His breath escaped him in a hiss, and his shoulders dropped slightly. He was quite thoroughly disgusted in himself. It had just sort of...slipped out, he hadn't meant to say it. There wouldn't have been anytime for nonsense like that anyway, it would be dark in a few hours and then Rorschach would come for him. Lord, if he had caught him like that he would have gutted him like a pig - or worse, disappeared and never spoke to him again. Emerging back out into the street, he straightened his rain speckled glasses and half-jogged to his apartment building. There was plenty of time to check Archie was ship-shape for tonight's action. Of course, it would be in perfect working order but Dan couldn't think of a better way to kill time.

He knew something wasn't right before he even got to his end of the hallway, and his suspicions were confirmed upon discovering that his door was slightly ajar. The space beyond was dark, and completely silent. Already his heart was racing as adrenalin surged through Dan's body, his muscles tense and every sense wired to maximum. Had he been robbed? Were they still there? Was it some petty dime-a-dozen crook, a cliched pseudo-villain mask? It didn't really matter in the end. It would only finish the same way - an exchange of barked words, chased closely by a brief and perhaps violent scuffle in which he would overpower the intruder. Unless they were armed, of course. Or Rorschach. Dan might have been fit for a man of his age and girth - and more than capable - but with no tech, no back-up and no prep-time...well, he could do a lot of things, but he couldn't catch a bullet. "Rorschach?" he asked the darkness hoarsely, "Buddy, is that you?" There was no reply. He nudged the door open ever so gently, and slipped inside. He crossed the short hallway in a couple of steps, and without another moments hesitation shoved open the kitchen door. Without his goggles his eyes were slow to adapt to the gloom, so he palmed the switch on the wall closest plunging the small room into watery yellow light.

Daniel had prepared himself for the worst, but the worst couldn't be as bad as this. Sitting there at his table, calm and stoney as ever with his hands flat on he table, was the man with placard. The actual sign itself was propped up against the fridge dripping watery ink onto his clean kitchen floor. His stomach sank like a stone and his heart had leapt into his mouth. Sitting there uninvited in his kitchen - silent and purposeful like a goddamn sphinx or something - was this person. /His/ person, the man of his dreams so to speak but by no means ideal - a pale imitation but an imitation none the less. He swallowed hard, the whole scene feeling uncomfortably familiar. "Wh-what are you doing here?" was the best Dan could choke out. The red-haired man said nothing, his gaze never wavering. He didn't know what to do, but after their earlier encounter he knew that this was going to be nothing but bad news. Taking a step into the room, he placed his hands on the back of the chair opposite his unwanted guest, and smiled tensely.

"Look, if this is about what I said earlier, I'm -"

"Yes," came a gruff interruption. The red-haired man had dropped his gaze to the table top, and his hands were now tight fists.

"Yes...what?" Dan asked, his voice suddenly a little softer. The intruder's jaw twitched, and he knew he was being cruel. He couldn't leave this to chance. He couldn't afford another mistake.

"Hundred dollars, cash," and Dan didn't know if it was a statement, a question or a demand but he could hardly believe that he was hearing it. He couldn't help but notice that the man was breathing a little heavier than before. He let go of the chair, not realizing that he had been gripping it hard enough to whiten his knuckles, and passed a hand briefly over his eyes. It was a moment before he collected himself again, a hundred different circumstances and outcomes running through his head. Not many of them were pretty.

"What's your name?" he asked shortly.

"...Walter."

Daniel nodded, and straightened up. Clearing his throat, he shrugged off his wet jacket and looked his guest straight in the eye with a half-smile.

"Go sit in the living room, Walter. Take off your clothes. Don't touch anything."

Walter done as he was told. He stood before the couch in Daniel's small but cosy flat, and slowly began to undress himself. First he peeled off his grubby fingerless gloves and tucked them into the pocket of his threadbare brown woolen suit jacket which came off next, followed by his dull black shoes and tatty pants. He folded his clothes carefully, gently setting them in a small stack on the arm of the couch.

By the time he was down to his greying underwear and vest-top, he became aware that he wasn't alone anymore. Dan stood in the doorway, intensely watching the man undress with such control and such purpose that it seemed like some sort of ritual. He was a little ahead of the game, already nude from the waist up; around his neck hung a pair of neat little yellow goggles and in his hand he clutched what appeared to be a dirty white rag. He dragged his gaze down Walter, drinking in every drop of him from his greasy orange curls to his uneven sock garters before he thrust the white piece of cloth at him.

"Put it on," was the only instruction.

Walter pawed softly at the rag - it was made of a thin white stretchy material he assumed was once a pair of women's tights or perhaps underwear. Parts of it was stiff with seemingly random blotches of black ink but as he smoothed it out it became quite apparent that they infact formed a nearly perfectly symmetrical design. His breath caught in his throat but he desperately clung to his composure, and instead looked blankly at Dan who sighed. He felt ill.

"Put it on," he said again, a little more urgently. He wanted it to be over and done with as quickly as possible. The less time they took, the less chance he had of being caught-out by his partner. He would have to clean the flat, hide the mask, shower again - no trace of what was about to happen could ever remain, "I'll pay extra. /Please./"

>>51322

Walter fisted the material in his dirty hands before he dragged it on reluctantly. It was difficult to see with it on, but it wasn't too hard to breathe through. Immediately Dan was on him, pulling at the make-shift mask, adjusting it so it was just perfect. Walter resisted the urge to push him off. It was wrong - it was all sick and wrong - but what disgusted him the most was the small comfort it afforded him. It wasn't his face. It wasn't his face, clean and true, it was the gut-twisting fantasy of the man he fought exactly this sort of immoral degradation with on the cold wet streets of New York. It wasn't his partner that he could feel roughly pulling him from his vest like he was undressing a child. It wasn't his Nite Owl that dug his fleshy fingers into Walter's shoulders and his teeth into his neck as he was pushed onto the sagging couch - but it was the closest he was ever going to get. The other man came down with him, forcing the breath from him as he was pinned to the cushions. Through the fabric, he could see Dan adjusting his goggles before hurriedly sliding his pants off and into a heap on the floor where Walter's neat pile was now strewn. They clashed together in an ungainly tangle of bony knees and sharp elbows, with Dan straddling the masked man's narrow hips. He snatched his wrists with one strong hand and held them down above their heads before leaning forward to murmur in his covered ear.

"Struggle," he hissed - his free hand on Walter's neck, his thumb stroking his adam's apple lightly before pressing firmly - and he did, suddenly feeling a little panicked. He hadn't expected it to go like this. He didn't know what he had been expecting, perhaps for Dan to be slow and gentle like he always was, but nothing like this. His hips bucked as he fought to gain some sort of wiggle room beneath his partner, as he could hardly breath beneath him. Ink-stiff cloth chaffed the bridge of his nose as his head was forced back suddenly, and teeth scraped against his vulnerable jugular with the intent to leave their mark eliciting a reluctant moan from the smaller man. Now Dan was struggling to free both himself and his guest of their underwear as quickly as possible, which was made infinitely more difficult by the fact he was unwilling to break contact with him. Waistbands snapped and slid, and finally they were uncovered - this time it was Daniel's turn to moan as Walter ground up against him urgently. He leaned forward causing the smaller man to snap his covered head sharply to the side, but he wasn't going to attempt to kiss him - that would have implied familiarity, affection, perhaps something other than pure lust and frustration. With the hand he had gently choked him with, he slid up the bottom of the mask and roughly jammed his thick fingers into Walter's hot wet mouth.

"Suck," came yet another grunted instruction. The digits tasted faintly of sweat and motor oil even though they were clean, and Walter resisted them, pushing and fighting with his clumsy tongue. If he knew what Dan was planning to do with those fingers and what little saliva coated them, he might have been more compliant. He shifted, moving down the pale freckle speckled body beneath him. He had to let go of his wrists, but Walter didn't move - he was stiff, tense, shaking, craning his neck trying to see what Dan was doing as he moved into an inky blindspot. His legs were pushed apart with a growl as he tried to keep his knees together, feeling over-exposed and vulnerable as hands grabbed at his ankles, shoving them up and out. There was a mutter of something that could have been 'relax', and suddenly there was two fingers jabbed harshly inside him. Walter bit off his ragged moan, twisting and squirming at the itching burning sensation of being stretched without warning. He gritted his teeth as those slick thick fingers were scissored and he clenched as they hooked inside him, trying to arch away.

Now that Walter was keeping his legs spread of his own accord, Daniel was free to leisurely stroke his own cock as he hungrily ate up every little detail of the scene before him. How would it happen, he though to himself. How did they get here, he and his partner? A tough night, a little close, humid - raining, perhaps. A gang of youths - of thugs - six or seven of them...yeah, seven, with weapons. Knives, chains, the works. They'd rough them up a little, it would come scarily close. Adrenaline pumping, hearts thumping they would stagger back to the owl-cave delirious and victorious. Rorschach...Rorschach would be wounded, ferocious, snarling like a bobcat, a wild animal...wild animals were /dangerous/, wild animals had to be /tamed/. Dan would tame him, make him squirm and moan just right before he lost too much blood, before he hurt himself. He'd tame him for his own sake, break him in, calm him down. He slapped away Walter's hands that had drifted down to tug at his neglected cock, pinning his shoulders down. He'd tame him alright, he thought as he thrust forward cruelly making the masked man cry out hoarsely. He'd show him who's boss for once. Without giving him time to adjust, Dan pulled out and slammed back in again all the way to the hilt, loving the noises it forced from his partner; gasps, sobs, grunts, strangled screams. It hurt, he knew that. He wanted it to. Through his goggles, he watched sharp features barely concealed by the pseudo-mask contort and scrunch with pain and perhaps even pleasure in fantastical colours and almost unreal detail. Convinced he could /see/ the bruised blush on those razor sharp cheekbones, the damp spot on the mask where his mouth would be, Dan's pace was starting to become jerky, erratic. He knew he couldn't last much longer, not with rough hands twisting in his hair, untrimmed dirty nails clawing welts down his back.

With a last forceful shallow thrust and a throaty moan, he came so hard he swore he could see stars and his hands clenched around Walter's throat hard enough to leave marks. He couldn't remember grabbing it, but he didn't care. The man was still breathing as he rolled off him to perch unsteadily on the edge of the couch. He dragged his hand across his sweat beaded forehead and stood up shakily. Behind him, Walter lay eaglespread gasping and half-hard. As Daniel stood up uncertainly to gather his clothes, he tore off the damp mask and threw it on the floor. He felt like he was going to be sick and his body was feverish and aching as he stared at the badly scratched back that ambled towards the door without so much as a second glance.

"Put your clothes on and get out. Your money's on the kitchen table," he said, sounding far away or preoccupied, entirely uninterested in Walter - and later on when he comes back through to the empty kitchen, dripping wet and scrubbed red raw, there is nothing left of Walter but an inky puddle and an untouched bundle of twenties.

Some random porn for you, coq. Because we're on the third page, and that's no good.

--

Nite Owl has been watching him strangely all night. It's nothing immediately worrying – he doesn't think he's injured, can feel no defects in his body save the usual aches and bruises, product of a night spent answering the highest calling – but it's all corner-of-the-eye nonsense, something he'd expect from someone less aware of just how little Rorschach misses.

Which means that Nite Owl wants him to notice. Curious and unsettling, all at once.

When they stop on a rooftop for a few minutes' surveillance (there is always more of it to do, more monsters to watch and secrets to uncover) Nite Owl indulges in a sidelong glance that lasts an infuriatingly long time. A man would have to be literally blind to miss it.

Inside Rorschach's gloves, fingers go hot and tingly; his throat is dry. "What," he asks, letting that heat manifest as irritation.

Nite Owl gets halfway to a word before he shakes his head. Looks at his hands, his feet, the distant skyline – anywhere but into the mask, and Rorschach knows it's always asked its own questions.

"Nothing," he finally says, with a catch in his voice that says it's definitely something, but Rorschach isn't in the mood to argue with him.

--

The tunnel back to the Owl's Nest is long, always seems longer at the end of the night than at the beginning. It echoes abandonment from every curved wall, and everything's monochromatic and magnified here, taken to simplified extremes. More than once they've stopped under one of these lights, riding high on the city's pulse and unable to wait another quarter mile, and Nite Owl would–

No. He's not going to lose himself to those thoughts now, because Nite Owl clearly already has, walking with a loose and careless grace, lines of his body falling into a desperately inviting curve. And one of them has to take point, has to pay attention, has to be present, even if they have walked these rails a hundred times, will walk them a hundred more, know the tunnel well enough to go blindfolded from one end to the other without ever touching the walls. Even if it is well and truly abandoned, no footsteps but theirs for years.

Nights like these, anything could happen.

--

Over coffee in the kitchen, his partner will not stop staring, long legs spread under the table and taking up far more space than he needs to. He's low in his chair, eyes dark and suggestive, and in retrospect, the odd looks started days ago. They've felt like some question Nite Owl's incapable of asking, too finely lit in moonlight and justice, too idealized even in his own mind.

Daniel, though...

Rorschach sets his coffee mug down, hard.

--

"God," Daniel breathes, harshly. He's on his back, like he always is, naked as he always is, night's battles written in abstract post-modern shorthand on the canvas of his skin, blue and purple and black. Walter's still mostly disguised as Rorschach, as he always is. The mask is up and his coat and jacket and vest and shirt are all opened down the middle, peeled and pinned back like delicate layers of membrane and skin, and that's hard enough. But he hasn't shed them entirely and they're at least some protection against this.

Still, Daniel asks for more.

"Please," he whines, curling hard fingers into Walter's hipbones, tugging them closer together. One leg tries to hitch up over the worn-smooth leather of his coat, finds no purchase.

It's obscene, what he's asked for, with nothing but the spread of thighs and clawing hands and a high whine that should come from no good man's mouth. A crossing of boundaries that is easy to find condemning words for – whorish, depraved – when it's distant, when it's women in alleyways begging for this, hitching their skirts and allowing themselves to be braced up against walls and pushed inside of, taken.

This close, with all the heat and smell of sweat and the awareness that it's him Daniel wants inside, his own flesh sliding into those dark and disgusting places, the words are forced right out his head. He looks down at Daniel, writhing and lifting his hips invitingly and burbling nonsense and he can't even put his mind around what's happening.

It's too close, too...

He pulls away, shifts off the bed – closes his eyes behind the mask so that he doesn't have to see the look of disappointment to match the low, despairing moan. Works on buttoning his clothes back up, from the inside out, like closing a wound.

"Rorschach..." Daniel starts, and Walter winces, because Rorschach would never be here, here every night like an addict haunting his supplier's doorway; would not be flushed under his clothes and trying desperately to shape bewilderment into disgust instead of the temptation it keeps trying to be. He wills his hands to work faster. "Look, don't... I wasn't trying to scare you off."

"Not scared," Walter hisses, but his voice is in slightly the wrong register and his fingers fumble the tiny buttons of his vest.

"Then why are you–"

"Clearly at cross-purposes tonight. Better to disengage."

Daniel shifts, leverages himself up onto his elbows. "I though we both pretty much wanted to get off," he says, smirking a little, and Walter freezes midway through smoothing the waistcoat points flat against his hips.

Silence in the dark room, for a good while; it'll be dawn soon.

Then Walter finds himself on Daniel again, pinning his shoulders to the mattress with a controlled violence, looming. He waits for the flare of heat in Daniel's eyes to subside back to nervousness.

"Interested in taking something equitable and... enh, marginally honorable, and turning it into a farce," he says, and now the nervousness on Daniel's face shifts again, into confusion. "Degrading yourself, forcing me to degrade you. Not a... this isn't... not a whore, Daniel."

"I... shit, I never said you were–"

"Not me," Walter growls, and his voice is still a little too high and tight but it echoes against the stretched hollow of Daniel's throat. "You."

A whimper, low in the chest; he can feel Daniel swallow at air. "Please."

"No."

"I'm not... I'm not like that and you know it," Daniel says, raking fingers down Walter's coatsleeves. "I just, I need it, need to feel you, please."

"No."

Daniel groans, rough and fractured, arches his head back. It hits Walter like running into a wall, old brickwork scratching at his senses: Daniel's wallowing in this, in the denial.

He shapes the words in his head again – No, Daniel – and feels a spike of something low and hot.

"Tell me what you want," he says, before he can even be sure why he's saying it.

"You already–"

"Say it."

Daniel looks up at him, without any of the soft boyishness that'd once made Walter certain Daniel wasn't as filthy and compromised as he was; this creature is all sharpness and need, shameless. "I want you to fuck me."

"Not going to," Walter growls, peeling Daniel's hands from his sleeves and pressing them flat to the mattress; they're shaking. "Tell me why you want it."

Daniel's flushing now, a new kind of heat in his eyes. He still replies, careful, like reciting a script: "I want to know what it's like."

"Know what it's like?" Walter rocks against him, a hot, careful grind that leaves even him feeling teased and deprived. Daniel must be... "To be violated? Object for another's pleasure? Taken, like some cheap, throwaway toy?"

"I... no, god, it's not like that," Daniel says, and it's almost like he's appalled by the words but the sharp buck of his hips gives him away. Sweat's pooling in the dip of his collarbone, and Walter ducks to lick along it, still too solid and slow, too gone when it's gone. Daniel groans, low, needy.

"Not the real reason." Walter runs a hand up the cleft of Daniel's ass, one finger finding him relaxed and inviting; he makes an inarticulate sound, surprise and arousal. "Have obviously done it before. Why do you want it?"

Daniel doesn't answer, biting his lip, saliva shining there in the diffuse light from the window.

The finger pushes in, dry, to the first knuckle.

"Fuck." It comes out explosive and thin, like a held breath. "Fuck, Rorschach."

"No."

"But you're–"

"Said no," and now it's Walter that gives his own game up, heat rising through his limbs with the words, and this feels so good he can't even allow himself to think about it. He crooks his finger instead, vindictive. "Also told you to tell me why."

Grit teeth, breath through his nose. Daniel still doesn't answer at first, stays silent until Rorschach's just starting to contemplate what his next option is shy of breaking fingers.

"Because it's you," he finally says, and his shining eyes betray it as truth. The words pick up speed as they go. "Because I know what your... ah, god. I know what your hands feel like on me, what you do to other people with them, how you move, how your body... I know what you could do inside me."

Silence, delicate, and he can feel Daniel's pulse racing against the enveloped tip of his finger.

Daniel swallows. "I want that."

"Don't get something just because you want it."

A low vocalization, as close to pure pleasure as Rorschach can identify. He eases the finger out, careful, and the sound changes pitch, becomes more desperate.

"Certainly don't get something the first time you ask," Rorschach says, and it feels like the filthiest thing he's ever said.

"Of course," Daniel says; then, contradicting, "Please."

"Asked nicely." Rorschach wraps a hand around both of them, rocking into the friction; Daniel moves with him, hands still curled into the sheets where Rorschach put them, like they're still being pinned there. "But that doesn't get you everywhere."

Daniel whimpers, and something breaks open, letting a stream of babble free. "Goddamn it, Rorschach, please," he says, then repeats himself, endless variations on the theme until what's leaving his mouth is barely language. "Come on, I'm..."

I'm begging you, here.

Under the lifted line of the mask, Rorschach feels his face shift; he's smiling, just a little, as he tightens his grip and twists, pulls Daniel's orgasm out of him and finishes himself a moment later, soiling them both in symmetric, equal measure.

--

"Oh my–" Daniel says, interrupting himself with breathless laughter. "Oh my god, Rorschach."

Walter doesn't respond, doesn't bother correcting him; even with the trench and jacket splayed open and his pants undone and his cock going soft against his leg, he still feels like something strong, now.

"God," and Daniel is repeating himself, uselessly awe-struck. "I can't believe you were getting off on that. A kink for being disagreeable and uncooperative, there's one for the books."

An annoyed huff of breath, louder than he means it to be.

Daniel runs the back of his hand over his forehead, collecting sweat. "Only you, man."

"Noticed," Walter finally finds the energy to rebut, acerbic, "that I was not the only one enjoying it."

And it's natural enough in this state for them to drift a little, so the pause that follows doesn't strike Walter as strange until Daniel breaks it by rolling to face him, threading one arm over his chest. The moment feels tight, suddenly.

"You weren't," Daniel says, mumbling into his throat, strangely serious. "I was... that was really hot, god. Saying things like that, and you... but, Rorschach. I don't, uh. I don't say things I don't mean."

Walter shuts his eyes again, tries to keep his breathing steady under Daniel's arm. Behind closed lids, sparks are still dancing.

"I do want... I do want you," Daniel's voice continues, vibrating against his skin. "Like that. Because I think it'd be amazing. And because I... ah, hell."

Breath catches in his throat when he feels Daniel drag his mouth up over his jawline, come to rest just under his ear, take a moment to form soundless endearments there. When he continues, it's almost a whisper.

"But you know? I'll beg as long as you need me to, buddy."

-

>>51879
Fuck, I came. More like this anon.

>>51879
omfg this is hot as hell. MOAR.

>>51938

haaaaaa LAURIE'S FACE THAT IS AMAZING

But I think the "Although if she..." bubble should say "stopped bathing and switched to Nostalgia" because he does use Nostalgia! He steals it from Dan XD

>>51938

Can this be the new Ooh Mr. Darcy comic plzthx?

oh noes, we've stopped bumping. Someone repost that comic in a new thread quick!