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numb3rsflashficTitle: Never Say Never
Pairing/Characters: Don Eppes/Charlie Eppes
Rating/Category: NC-17/Slash
Word Count: 528 words
Spoilers: None
Summary: They just won't stop.
Notes/Warnings: Slash. Written for the First Challenge, "Last".
This is the last time.
These words are whispered into his neck before Don pins Charlie to the wall with strong hands. Those hands dig into his shoulders and slide down to his waist as their mouths crash. Their hips rotate to a rhythm that only Don can hear, a violent one two one two one two count that hurts for all the pleasure it brings.
Do you hear me? This is the last time we do this.
It's always the last time with Don until the next time, when they repeat their dance all over again. Today it's Charlie being shoved and banged roughly against Don's dressers and walls, angry bruises blossoming along his body in disturbingly beautiful patterns. It's he who's fucked violently into the bed, hands tearing at the sheets and pulling at the mattress pad, throat hoarse from his shouts.
Tomorrow it'll be Don squirming under his fingers and lips. Every touch he'll let linger on slick skin, drawing out pleasure until Don can't last. He'll beg Charlie to stroke him or fucking suck him off already. Charlie won't relent to him; instead he'll flick his nipples with his thumbs and tongue until he's satisfied, then slither his way down to his brother's navel, hips, thighs, knees, and toes. He'll leave Don's cock last, an angry red-purple-leaking-fuck-me cock that he'll take his time with.
This is wrong. We have to stop.
It's wrong, but god does it feel right. Their bodies and limbs fit together perfectly, a moving mass of flesh and blood, wants and needs. A common desire for completion has led them to this point and to each other. They bend and slide and lean onto one another forming bridges that span from their lips, hands, and hearts.
Don't make me want this.
He can shove Charlie hard enough to break him, but they both know they want this. He wants to feel Charlie's mouth around his cock, licking along the underside before bobbing it into warmth and wetness. He wants to feel Don stretching him, angling his thrusts to hit that spot that makes him groan his brother's name out.
No matter how hard Don pushes Charlie away, he's drawn back into his arms. He's like a rubber band whose only option is to stretch before returning to its relaxed state. If he doesn't stretch and return, Don'll end up snapping, dried and unable to be resilient any longer.
Please stop. Please...god...sto...fuck.
The first time they touched, Don and Charlie didn't stop. Hands explored, mouths searched for the most sensitive of areas, and rhythms were found. Upstroke, down stroke, their cocks were trapped around Don's fist. His left hand was tangled up in Charlie's thick curls, bringing their foreheads together as their breathing became shallow.
For their second time, Charlie brought his mouth to Don's chin. He dragged his tongue across his Adam's apple and was pushed away. Charlie murmured words into his collar and hooked his finger in his belt loops, pulling Don towards his hard cock. He was ground into the wall by his brother's thrusts.
This is the last time, buddy.
With them every time is the last time.
Pairing/Characters: Don Eppes/Charlie Eppes
Rating/Category: NC-17/Slash
Word Count: 528 words
Spoilers: None
Summary: They just won't stop.
Notes/Warnings: Slash. Written for the First Challenge, "Last".
This is the last time.
These words are whispered into his neck before Don pins Charlie to the wall with strong hands. Those hands dig into his shoulders and slide down to his waist as their mouths crash. Their hips rotate to a rhythm that only Don can hear, a violent one two one two one two count that hurts for all the pleasure it brings.
Do you hear me? This is the last time we do this.
It's always the last time with Don until the next time, when they repeat their dance all over again. Today it's Charlie being shoved and banged roughly against Don's dressers and walls, angry bruises blossoming along his body in disturbingly beautiful patterns. It's he who's fucked violently into the bed, hands tearing at the sheets and pulling at the mattress pad, throat hoarse from his shouts.
Tomorrow it'll be Don squirming under his fingers and lips. Every touch he'll let linger on slick skin, drawing out pleasure until Don can't last. He'll beg Charlie to stroke him or fucking suck him off already. Charlie won't relent to him; instead he'll flick his nipples with his thumbs and tongue until he's satisfied, then slither his way down to his brother's navel, hips, thighs, knees, and toes. He'll leave Don's cock last, an angry red-purple-leaking-fuck-me cock that he'll take his time with.
This is wrong. We have to stop.
It's wrong, but god does it feel right. Their bodies and limbs fit together perfectly, a moving mass of flesh and blood, wants and needs. A common desire for completion has led them to this point and to each other. They bend and slide and lean onto one another forming bridges that span from their lips, hands, and hearts.
Don't make me want this.
He can shove Charlie hard enough to break him, but they both know they want this. He wants to feel Charlie's mouth around his cock, licking along the underside before bobbing it into warmth and wetness. He wants to feel Don stretching him, angling his thrusts to hit that spot that makes him groan his brother's name out.
No matter how hard Don pushes Charlie away, he's drawn back into his arms. He's like a rubber band whose only option is to stretch before returning to its relaxed state. If he doesn't stretch and return, Don'll end up snapping, dried and unable to be resilient any longer.
Please stop. Please...god...sto...fuck.
The first time they touched, Don and Charlie didn't stop. Hands explored, mouths searched for the most sensitive of areas, and rhythms were found. Upstroke, down stroke, their cocks were trapped around Don's fist. His left hand was tangled up in Charlie's thick curls, bringing their foreheads together as their breathing became shallow.
For their second time, Charlie brought his mouth to Don's chin. He dragged his tongue across his Adam's apple and was pushed away. Charlie murmured words into his collar and hooked his finger in his belt loops, pulling Don towards his hard cock. He was ground into the wall by his brother's thrusts.
This is the last time, buddy.
With them every time is the last time.
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