Fic: Repent All Your Sin

Title: Repent All Your Sin
Author: pureaddiction
Fandom: Watchmen
Pairings/Characters: Daniel/Walter
Rating: R
Length: 329
Disclaimer: I do not own anything.
A/N: This was inspired by naroclie's wonderful sketch seen here. Title taken from Your Ex-Lover Is Dead by Stars. I was iffy on writing this as I hadn't written anything in years and don't even want to post it. But why not- eh?



His back arches. His toes curl. His breath catches in his throat.

Wrong, he tells himself over and over. Filthy. Horrid. Disgusting.

A sound escapes from the back of his throat he doesn't recognize. Muscles seize in his thighs as he attempts to distance himself and not respond.

Moist breathing trails along his shoulder. Wordless noises muffled against his neck. Metal corner digs into his jaw. He jerks his head back and snarls. Urge to fix his face almost over whelming.

Foul. Obscene. Shameful.

The brunette man hesitates, the ministrations slow, but after finding his nose not broken gently continues on.

His body continues to betray him. Gasps tearing at his throat now.

"Da-" Cannot bring himself to soil the name. "Don't..."

Right hand reaches behind his back to steady himself. Instead finds his nails sinking into the warm skin of the other man.

"Hurm- ...stop." Ragged dirty nails break skin and guilt drowns him.

Such direct words the bespectacled man drops his hand abashed.

Trembling fingers clamps down on the others bleeding palm; soundless pleas forming on his lips.

Don't stop, Daniel-

Tattered entreaty shatters the pained silence. "Please?"

Inflection in the voice prompts realization in the larger man. A hand slips back into the motions while a freckled one gathers bedsheet.

The cycle continues: His back arches. His toes curl. His breath catches in his throat. The name of his partner burns in his throat- still unable to be said.

Nearly biting through his tongue he feels his body become rigid at his release. He can't get any air as his form slackens and he curls into himself. The stigma of the encounter like a vice on his chest. Long hands reach up and tug his face back into place to hide his burgeoning vulnerability. He doesn't feel the other man's soft fingers chaffing at his shoulders. Furthermore he doesn't hear the worried voice of his companion over the voices screaming at him.

Scum. Vermin. Trash.