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Because they're now available to me in a format I actually kind of like, and because anonymous trolls are awful:
Daniel is never going to admit it, but he prefers talking to Laurie - eating dinner with her, walking down the street with her, window shopping and playing the "what would I buy if I hadn't spent all my money on repairing Archie" game, bouncing an idea for modifications to his costume, or his gear off her and seeing what she thought -- to the sex.
He prefers fighting or saving people next to her, too.
Sex is... Only with adrenaline pumping through his veins is his need raw enough, intense enough to overcome the fact that her body, even muscled as it is, is soft where it should be hard, smells of women where it should smell of semen and musk, that even though he likes her, even maybe loves her, she's not what his body really wants.
Women aren't what his body really wants.
But right now, Archie is humming around them and they've only barely escaped the most recent fight with their lives, and Laurie is wearing nothing but her high-heeled black boots, writhing against him while he still has his mask on, and things are good.
And if he thinks of freckles dotting pale skin like ink blots when he kisses her shoulder, hears someone else's voice growling "Leave mask on," when she runs her hands over his cowl and breathes "Leave the goggles on. I want you to see me," sees blood spattered across snow and hears the sound of his own screaming when she climaxes with a choked-off little scream of her own, he's very careful never to tell her.
It feels too much like a betrayal, though he's not certain of whom.
Daniel is never going to admit it, but he prefers talking to Laurie - eating dinner with her, walking down the street with her, window shopping and playing the "what would I buy if I hadn't spent all my money on repairing Archie" game, bouncing an idea for modifications to his costume, or his gear off her and seeing what she thought -- to the sex.
He prefers fighting or saving people next to her, too.
Sex is... Only with adrenaline pumping through his veins is his need raw enough, intense enough to overcome the fact that her body, even muscled as it is, is soft where it should be hard, smells of women where it should smell of semen and musk, that even though he likes her, even maybe loves her, she's not what his body really wants.
Women aren't what his body really wants.
But right now, Archie is humming around them and they've only barely escaped the most recent fight with their lives, and Laurie is wearing nothing but her high-heeled black boots, writhing against him while he still has his mask on, and things are good.
And if he thinks of freckles dotting pale skin like ink blots when he kisses her shoulder, hears someone else's voice growling "Leave mask on," when she runs her hands over his cowl and breathes "Leave the goggles on. I want you to see me," sees blood spattered across snow and hears the sound of his own screaming when she climaxes with a choked-off little scream of her own, he's very careful never to tell her.
It feels too much like a betrayal, though he's not certain of whom.
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Also: I think you should post that over
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This is probably because I haven't looked at anything on ff.net yet. If the terrifying "the Joker just needs my Mary Sue to love him" fics spawned by the Dark Knight are anything to go by... I'm really kind of afraid to see what that same batch of authors makes of Rorschach (and Ozymandias).
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Anyway, I was lurking over there and I've found a few good things. You should take a look. I put my favorite ones in my favorite stories (http://www.fanfiction.net/~dananorram). :)
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LeiaDianaMinerva
P.S. Please write more Watchmen fic. "gives puppy dog eyes of doom"
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