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Burn Me	By : SandraClarke Category: DC Verse Comics > Watchmen Views: 1056 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Watchmen. All publicly recognisable characters belong to Alan Moore and David Gibbons. I make no money off writing this fic.

Chapter List
- 1-Burn Me
- 1
Burn Me

“Why do you drink, Eddie?” Byron’s voice sounds low, flat, just slightly tinged with defeat and sadness. The Comedian snorts and shoots the masked man next to him an amused and slightly incredulous look.

“No big reason, Wings. Just do. I like it.” A short pause filled with the clinking of a lighter and the obnoxious stench of cigar smoke.

“You?”

An almost desperate smile fights to blossom across the Moth Man’s pale lips.
“To forget,” he murmurs, more to himself than in response to The Comedian’s question. “And… I like the burn.”

Eddie laughs. Nutcase, that one.
“It ain’t gonna be enough forever,” he taunts. “An’ when it isn’t, what light‘re you gonna fly to then?”

Moth Man slowly turns his head to look at Eddie. The grin on the man’s face is unreadable and Byron has nothing to say. These days, the answer is always the same. Byron returns to his drink, slams it back and pours the next one.

*

The knocks on the door are loud and uneven. Eddie is tempted to ignore them, but they persist. He gets up from his comfortable arm chair, grumbling about what idiot might be turning up at his place at this time. The paper he was reading lands on the coffee table with an unceremonious thump.

It’s raining and terribly windy outside when Eddie opens the door. One look at the man standing before him makes him want to slam it right shut.

“Eddie?” Byron practically falls into The Comedian, far too drunk to stay upright once he lets go of the door frame.

“Jeez, By,” Eddie grinds out from behind his cigar as he catches Moth Man by the shoulders to steady him. Byron tugs free of Eddie’s grip and launches himself at the other man, clinging to his shoulders and burying his face in the crook of Eddie’s neck. He stays there, whimpering, tears flowing, unbidden.

“Fuck, stop that.” Eddie roughly disentangles Moth Man from his form, though he keeps a firm hold on his arm. If he doesn’t he’ll have to pick the sorry sod up from his floor. Moth Man’s still whimpering, shaking in his costume, wings vibrating and those damn pathetic tears sliding from beneath the mask.

The Comedian shakes his head and rolls his eyes at the sniffling man before him. “Christ you’re such a mess,” he grouches and pulls Byron towards the couch. “Don’t even know why I do this.”

Well, that isn’t entirely true. Moth Man’s late-night visits aren’t exactly rare these days. Ever since Bill bit the dust, Wings was headed towards a crazy, crazy place, in Eddie’s book, anyway. But hey, it’s not his job to stop the guy from going down. Which brings Eddie to why he does this, because, Hell, By is good at the going down business. Leaves little doubt as to what he and Dollar Bill had got up to.

So yeah, a few times a month Eddie plays babysitter for Wing-boy, but at least he gets to be kinky while he’s at it. Nights like these, with Moth Man a fucked up, drunken mess and Eddie feeling charitable usually end with The Comedian’s cock up Moth Man’s surprisingly tight ass. Eddie has to admit that Byron is a brilliant submissive; a natural, actually.

Byron sits on Eddie’s couch, still sniffling and incoherent. It makes Eddie think that he’d have to make the guy sober up if he wanted anything out of him that night.
“Aw, damn, get a grip, man,” Eddie groans, crouching down next to Byron to get a look at his face.

Damn those pretty-boy eyes. Eddie’s sure that he’d have much less pity for Moth-Boy if it weren’t for those damn pretty, damn bright and wide eyes; like a scared, fuckin’ little kid.

“Aw, Hell.” Eddie lights another cigar and makes to get up from where he’d been crouching. “I’ll get ya some water.”

Moth Man doesn’t answer, but his gaze suddenly meets Eddie’s and Eddie is sure, now, that he can see a shadow of crazy right there.

“Eddie…” Byron suddenly lurches forward and steals Eddie’s cigar from between his lips before capturing them in a desperate, if sloppy, kiss. They stay locked like this for a few moments in which Eddie thinks he might be able to discern the brand of whiskey Moth Man must have all but drowned himself in.

Lip-lock broken, Eddie grins. “No water then, eh?”

Byron steps back clumsily and shakes his head.

“No, Eddie. Burn me.”

The Comedian blinks once then frowns in confusion, cocking his head.

“Eh?”

Byron, who’s still holding Eddie’s cigar, removes his left glove with a sharp tug, letting it fall to the floor. He has the still burning end of the cigar pressed to the back of his hand before Eddie can even react.

“Fuck, Wings!” The Comedian has to hand it to Moth Man that the pain doesn’t even seem to register in that fucked-up mind of his, but he quickly grabs the cigar before Byron can do any more damage. The mark left behind on Moth Man’s hand is an angry red and somehow fascinating.

“Burn me,” Byron chokes, his voice a pitch too high.

Eddie spends another moment staring at Moth Man before realisation dawns that Byron’s serious.

“You fucked up little bastard.”

Eddie can’t quite manage to hide the wonder in his voice, but he doesn’t give a shit right now, feeling outright gleeful.

“Strip,” he commands, reaching for his lighter, making sure that it’s there when he needs it.

Watching Byron try to get out of his costume was hilarious, but almost painful. In the end, Eddie has to help strip Byron out of the outfit.

“Yanno, straps ‘n booze don’t really work together,” Eddie teases cruelly, divesting Moth Man of the last item of clothing.

Standing there, in only his mask, Byron looks like a deer in the headlights, quivering for all kinds of unknown reasons and Eddie loves it. The fact that Byron is already beginning to get hard only serves to fuel his excitement.

Abruptly, Eddie grabs Byron’s wrist and pulls him over to the hardwood dining table on the other side of the room. He turns Byron around and forces him to bend over. Moth Man grunts at being manhandled, but makes no further sound until a startled gasp escapes him when Eddie presses the hot cigar to the base of his neck.

“This what you want?” Eddie’s growl is low and taunting against Byron’s ear, cruel. Moth Man can only nod.

Without warning, The Comedian relights the cigar and takes a puff from it before running it from just below the first burn halfway down Moth Man’s spine. This time Byron screams.

“Eddie!” Byron’s breath is coming in harsh bursts which mix with barely contained whimpers.

Eddie laughs and presses up closer against Moth Man’s back, raking his teeth across the initial mark he’d made. It makes Moth Man yell again and Eddie’s erection hardens even further against the other’s ass.

“That’s right, you crazy little bitch.” A sinister chuckle. “Scream for me.”

With those words, Eddie reaches around Byron and slams the cigar into the other man’s chest, grinding it into the flesh there, burning it and marring it, possibly forever.

The scream this tears from Byron is garbled, half-choked with pain and pleasure and Eddie can barely believe that he can get such a reaction out of the Moth Man this way. In fact, the crazy guy is alternately thrusting back against Eddie’s clothed erection and rubbing his own leaking cock against the edge of the table.

Laughing, The Comedian relinquishes the hold he has on Byron and steps back to undo his belt and trousers. Byron sags further across the table’s surface, out of breath and shaking from the pain and the adrenaline and alcohol coursing through his body. His swollen and leaking cock surely wasn’t helping his condition either.

“God, Eddie… Please.” And it’s almost a sob, not quite, though, and it’s laced with so much longing that Eddie can’t get out of his damn trousers fast enough.

Kicking the offending garments out of the way, Eddie is pressed up against Byron’s back again and barely waits for the other man to brace himself before pushing inside him with unbridled force.

Moth Man yells, his voice cracking in mid-sound, because his breath is being driven from his lungs by the punishing rhythm Eddie is setting.

In and out of that goddamn tight heat Eddie slides, now aided by a small amount of blood that is mixing with his precum; Eddie’s never been a fan of lube anyway.

Not that he thinks Byron cares much either way, at the moment. The sounds coming from Moth Man are slowly leaking from agonised half-sobs into the most arousing groans Eddie’s heard in a while. Hell, yeah, it was worth it every time, he is now reminded.

“Augh… Edd-ie,” Byron gasps, pressing back against The Comedian’s cock desperately and Eddie knows what this means.

“Don’t you dare come,” he growls, his own breathing anything but regular now. He reaches around to circle Moth Man’s cock with his thumb and middle finger, squeezing hard. Byron whimpers loudly and it sounds so pathetic that Eddie has to laugh.

“You,” Eddie’s thrusts are turning irregular now, “don’t come ‘til I let you.” He’s so close himself and he’ll be damned if he lets Moth-boy come first.

“Fuck yeah,” Eddie grinds out roughly, before thrusting once, twice more and spilling inside of Byron with a satisfied groan.

Byron moans loudly and begins to wriggle almost immediately, trying to remind Eddie that he still has a death grip on Byron’s throbbing member. Barely coherent yet, Eddie gives two rough, careless strokes, but that’s all it takes to make Byron come with a shattering force and a hoarse scream, strings of fluid splattering across the dark wood of the table and over Eddie’s hand.

Moth Man collapses and slides to the floor, unconscious the minute he hits the ground. Eddie, still gathering his wits, sighs. Well, he’s surprised Wings lasted this long at all.

“Told ya, you’d get burned,” Eddie mutters, gaze lingering on Moth Man’s unconscious form and the angry burns on the man’s back. Lighting another cigar, Eddie pushes away from the table and heads for the bathroom. He’ll get Moth-boy later, after he’s had a shower.

A/N: Reviews are much appreciated.
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Burn Me