Work Text:
"Oh, fuck," Dan moaned, as his partner's tongue dragged across his mouth. "Rorschach..."
He was backed against the curve of Archie's hull, pinned by his partner's wiry frame, desperately trying to free himself before things got really out of control.
–
Rorschach had been acting strangely the entire journey back, vibrating with some barely-restrained tension and Dan figured it was just the adrenaline comedown. It had been close, after all; he had yanked Rorschach from a stainless steel nightmare in a repurposed warehouse, sliced away leather straps with a sharpened crescent and bundled his trench around his half-clad body (and hadn't that been a revelation; finding him taut against the restraints, muscles straining beneath the damp shirt—).
But as they had stumbled out of the Owlship and into the cool air of Dan's basement, it became increasingly clear that something was wrong. The trench sat abandoned on the co-pilot's seat, his shirt was untucked and rumpled enough to reveal a triangle of pale abdomen, and god, the way he was teasing his unknotted scarf through his fingers...
Dan paused halfway through de-suiting to openly gawk, chest armor forgotten, half-unzipped and spread open. Rorschach had rolled up the mask to pull off his gloves with his teeth, and sucked a couple of fingers into his mouth. He was making the strangest noises; rough, low-pitched growls.
"Ror—" Daniel said, wanting to ask if he was okay – had they done something to him? Given him something? – but before he could articulate his concern, Rorschach was advancing on him predatorily, saliva-slick fingers sliding over his own lips. Dan only realized he was backing up when he hit Archie's smooth surface with a muted clang.
"Kiss me," Rorschach demanded, and lunged for Dan's mouth. Dan was too thunderstruck to ask for an explanation or argue or even do as he was told, but the bewilderment soon passed when Rorschach's hand groped at the inside of his thigh. Realization set in, accompanied by a selfish stab of disappointment. He'd seen this behavior exhibited before, in King of Skin's glassy-eyed girls.
"Wait," he gasped, deflecting his roaming hands. "Rorschach, you're— oh Jesus, what did they put in you?"
"Don't care," his partner growled, tongue flicking over Dan's lips. "Want you in me."
The bluntness of the statement made Dan choke out a short, startled laugh. Whatever was in Rorschach's system, it had destroyed his inhibitions as much as it had turned him on. Must be goddamn powerful stuff. "No, come on. Let's get you inside and sobered up."
"Don't want that. Want you." Another lick at Dan's mouth that made his knees buckle and his hands grab for Rorschach's shoulders. He's radiating heat like a furnace.
"Oh, fuck," Dan moaned. "Rorschach. Don't make this hard for me."
The lascivious smirk that spread across his face was terrifying in its unfamiliarity, and Dan shoved him back a step before he could make the obvious lewd remark. Rorschach grunted in protest and surged forward again, this time attacking the remainder of Dan's costume. "Get this off," he said. "Daniel, take it off. I need you."
"Listen to me," Dan said, catching his hands. Rorschach squirmed and twisted, trying to free himself. "Listen. You're not yourself – holy god are you not yourself – and I'm not gonna let you do this. It's the drug talking."
"Not all," Rorschach replied, ceasing his fruitless struggle to step forward and press against Dan. "Have watched you for a long time." He nuzzled at Dan's neck, stubble scratching as he breathed the words into his skin. His voice rumbled, almost a purr. "Like to watch you work, fixing things. Clever hands, clever fingers. Imagined how they would feel on my—"
"Okay, stop," Dan said, shaken. Evidently his filter was non-existent, and Dan's resolve would shatter like glass if he had to listen to him describe his fantasies in explicit detail – fantasies about him, oh god. Dan was already uncomfortably hard and trying to hide it, without much success.
"Caught you watching me, too," Rorschach said, pressing a kiss to Dan's jaw when he jolted in alarm. "Thought I wouldn't notice? I'm a detective, Daniel. Deduced that you wanted me, no use denying it." He reached down to cup Dan through his uniform, and just when did he get his hands free?
"No," Dan said, guiding him away again and again; always so tenacious. "I'm not— I can't deny that. But I want you to stop. Please."
Rorschach's mouth twitched under the mask, and Dan hoped for a moment that his plaintive request had penetrated through the drug-induced lust, but then those long fingers were crawling over him again, breaching his armor. He had to put an end to this, now.
He grabbed Rorschach's arm, spinning him so that he could pull it roughly up behind his back. They stumbled, turning until Rorschach was the one flat against Archie, half-masked face pushed against the warmed metal by a hand on the back of his neck, pinned like a criminal. Dan knew he could break the hold with minimal effort, but instead he reached back with his free hand to fondle Dan's thigh.
"Hrn," he said, arching his back. "Yes, good. Like this. Keep the suit on, Nite Owl."
"Oh god!" Dan said, exasperated. "There is no way you're really that kinky, come on, man." He pulled Rorschach away from the ship and frogmarched him towards the basement stairs, nudging him forward whenever he stopped to lean back against Dan's chest.
Dan got him up to the kitchen and calm enough to stay sitting at the table (after removing his roaming hands and pushing him back down into the chair several times). He brewed up a strong pot of coffee, knowing it would probably have minimal effect, if any, but he didn't know what else to try – a cold shower involved far too much nakedness and wet skin to be safe. He poured an over-sweetened cup, and turned around to find Rorschach desperately fumbling at the button of his fly.
"For god's sake," he said, increasing distress leaving his words precarious and uneven. "Not at the table." He leaned over to still his frantic scrabbling, leaving himself wide open for an arm to loop around his neck and pull him down. Rorschach buried his face in the crook of Dan's shoulder, breathing harshly as he dug his fingers into Dan's hand and pressed it down over his heavy erection. He's achingly hard; Dan's own arousal echoing him dizzyingly.
"I need this," he groaned, rutting into Dan's palm. "Daniel. Help me."
"I'm trying," Dan said, voice pale and high. "I'm trying. Just. Not like that. Please, don't—" He pulled his hand away, and Rorschach raised his hips to try and keep contact. "Let go, shhh. Let go. Here, drink this. Careful, it's hot."
Rorschach took the drink in unsteady hands and sucked the liquid down, breathing noisily through his nose, heedless of its temperature. He put the mug down carefully, swayed for a moment and then doubled up, and Dan realized a split-second before the first tremor of his shoulders what was wrong. He hauled him over to the sink in time for him to bring it all back up again, body shuddering violently as he retched.
"Hnk," he managed between heaves. "Poisoned."
"Definitely," Dan said, willing to concede to his paranoia this time. One hand was braced against his chest, steadying him as he panted and gulped. He was so hot, burning up. "Feels like you have a fever."
Rorschach spat into the sink, saliva spindling from his lip in a fine thread, and then slowly crumpled to the linoleum.
–
Dan had to carry his partner on a couple of occasions when things had gone badly awry on patrol, but never far and never for long; getting him up the stairs and into the guest room turned out to be no small feat. He was dense, for all his short stature, and by the time Dan had him settled in the recovery position, his arms ached.
Rorschach was running a temperature and the latex of his mask would be doing nothing to help that, but he had already been violated enough for one night. Dan shoved a plastic washbasin next to the bed, and allowed himself a squeeze of his partner's shoulder. "Gonna be a rough day tomorrow," he murmured. And half-jokingly: "Please don't kill me."
He left the doors to the guest room and his bedroom open, so he could monitor Rorschach's breathing; he sounded ragged, but not too labored. Dan lay on his back, uncomfortable heat between his legs, and tried to fall asleep with Rorschach's narcotic-induced confession whispering tantalizing suggestions to his libido.
–
He was woken some indeterminate time later by the dip of his mattress, and a body sliding under the sheets to press up next to him. An arm curled around his chest to pull him flush against hard muscle and hard heat, and when a mouth brushed the back of his neck, the sensation jolted down his spine, made his breath catch and shudder out.
"Rorschach," Dan whispered hoarsely, intercepting a freckled hand as it spidered down his stomach. He rolled over, away from the insistent nudge of his partner's hips. "God, this is so wrong. C'mon man, out of my bed."
"Why?" came the response, an invitation suspended in the dark.
He left it to hang, spent the rest of the night in the guest room with a chair wedged under the handle.
–
Rorschach stepped slowly into the kitchen with precisely-measured movements. He looked sickly under the mask; dry lipped, face drawn and pale. Dan watched him cautiously as he drew back a kitchen chair and eased himself down. "Why am I here?" he croaked.
"A bit early for existential soul-searching, buddy," Dan said, trying to keep his voice light despite being beyond relieved that he hadn't been greeted with a come-on. Rorschach looked wrecked, which was expected, but memory-loss was not something Dan was banking on. He didn't know whether to be glad or horrified.
"No, no— your bed, Daniel. Why was I..." he trailed off. "I feel atrocious. Head is...hnnk."
Dan slid a mug of coffee in front of him. "You really don't remember?"
His hands closed around the mug, gripping hard to disguise their trembling. "I—" he said, then took in a deep, noisy breath. "No."
Dan rubbed his hands down his face, displacing his glasses. Rorschach was lying as best he could, but he was never particularly convincing and he clearly didn't have the energy for it this morning.
"Look, we have to talk about this," he said, pulling a chair up. "I'm not gonna have it eating away at our...our partnership."
Rorschach shook his head, the motion obviously paining him. His voice was dark, cracking. "Nothing to talk about. Nothing to be done except apologize. Daniel, I—" Rorschach trailed off to stare at him, long and hard, black smoke breaking against clouds. "You wanted to."
Time for the moment of truth. Dan ducked his head in a solemn nod. "Yes."
Only a small twitch; could have been worse. "But you...didn't."
Dan nodded again, tried for something playful. "You know, I only want you for your mind. And you were out of it, man."
That elicited a snort, and a heavy pause. "Thank you," Rorschach said, fingertips circling over the rim of his mug. "You're a good man, Daniel. A good partner. Thank you."
Dan smiled, reached over to clasp his wrist. "You should go back to bed. You look like hell."
Rorschach opened his mouth as though about to argue, then obviously thought better of it. He grunted, scraped back the chair and made for the hallway, pausing in the kitchen doorway, hand curled around the frame. "Daniel," he said, flush spreading across the back of his neck. "Come with me."