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numb3rsflashficTitle: My Last Lover
Author: Nina
Pairing/Characters: Don/Charlie
Rating/Category: Mature, slash (not terribly explicit, but then, incest)
Word Count: 2123
Spoilers/references: teeny tiny one for Obsession
Summary: Wherein Don finds out that Charlie has a past
Notes/Warnings: I’ve had a tendency to write intense. This was a conscious effort to go for playful; there’s still a little angst (because this is Don & Charlie, and it’s practically unavoidable), but they also deserve a little downtime.
And thanks to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
schnaucl for a great beta. And great patience. Believe me, I tested it.
The low wheeze of the air conditioner was almost soothing, despite the lack of any actual cool air, a steady drone to the counterpoint of their slow, asynchronous breathing. The security light filtering through the heavy curtains was just enough to hint at the overly familiar outlines of a standard budget hotel room; or the equally familiar, but ever-intriguing profile on the pillow next to him.
He had never quite adjusted to the exotic beauty who had taken the place of his gawky little brother sometime between the time they went their separate ways to college and when he came home to watch their mother die. He could see her ghost in the distinctive line of the nose, the fullness of the lips, even the strong eyebrows. The long lashes that fluttered against flawless olive skin and the slightly playful smile that quirked his mouth, though, those belonged to only one person.
One eyebrow lifted over closed eyes, and the quiet voice resonated through the bed, their bodies. “Do I have something on my nose?”
He chuckled softly, propping his head on his elbow. “No. Your nose is fine.”
“Are you just going to lie there and look at me?”
“I just might at that,” he replied, his smile warming his voice.
“Don’t you want to sleep?”
“I can sleep later.” He reached out, light fingers tracing the profile before him. “I’m having too much fun watching you not sleep.”
White teeth nipped at his fingertips, and he let his forefinger linger as soft lips suckled for a moment. The moist finger drew down over the slightly stubbled chin, which lifted, exposing the long, enticing line of pale throat. Skimming the prominent Adam’s apple provoked a ticklish giggle, and he leaned in to draw his tongue up over the same spot as his fingers continued down, riffling through soft hair, tracing the roundness of pectoral muscle.
The small body at his side twisted, torn between the impulse to contract against the tickling and to stretch into the caresses.
“Don!” The protest melted into a giggle, and suddenly, Don was flipped onto his back, straddled and pinned by the hands at his shoulders. His protest was perfunctory, and he shifted only to get more comfortable, reaching down to push the bony hips a little further down into the cradle of his own pelvis. Springy curls swept against his face as soft lips brushed his cheek on the way down, sharp teeth nipping at his earlobe, the side of his throat.
“Hey, hey, hey, it’s too hot for this.”
“You’re the one who started it,” was the airy response, the firm, warm tongue probing just the right spot behind his ear to make him squirm. “If the FBI weren’t so cheap, we’d each have a decent room with air conditioning that worked.”
“Charlie, we’re in Central Nowhere, Arizona in August. Even if the FBI could spring for two rooms, I doubt—ah!—” His voice caught as nimble, knowing fingers ran along the grooves of his ribs, up into his armpits. “Stop it!”
He could feel Charlie’s grin against the sensitive skin beneath his arm. “You gonna make me?”
Despite the warm provocation of lips and tongue, that was a challenge no self-respecting big brother could possibly resist, and Don curled up, wrapping his arm around Charlie’s neck. Using his strength to cradle his head and shoulders safely, he flipped his little brother over and straddled him across the width of the double bed they shared, even though there was another, still made, an arm’s length away.
But, damn, if Charlie couldn’t find a way to reverse his reversal, clever fingers creeping up the outsides of his thighs, a wicked light touch against the growth of hair, up under the hems of his white cotton boxers. All the while, the brat was looking up at him with the most innocent, wide-eyed, adoring gaze he had ever seen.
Don groaned, dropping onto his hands against the bed above Charlie’s shoulders, and he caught the twinkle in the dark eyes, even in the muted light, as he leaned down for a kiss.
Of course, nothing was simple with Charlie, a nip at his lower lip, fingertips skimming along the sensitive crease between thigh and buttock, inward toward more dangerous territory still, and Don’s arms collapsed, his weight falling onto his elbows, his hands curving over the mop of curls as he tongued tender curses into Charlie’s willing mouth. He ought to feel silly with his ass in the air and his callused fingers catching in windblown tangles, but he was too lost in the soft, wet caresses and tiny whimpers that salted the kisses, his or Charlie’s, it didn’t really matter.
The surprisingly strong little body arched under him, toward him, hands pulling and arranging his willing form to Charlie’s satisfaction, his hips resting deep between sturdy thighs. Don slid one thigh across his brother’s, only to feel an exasperated sigh bubble through the liesurely kisses as a graceful evasive manoeuvre outfoxed him, and both of Charlie’s legs wound around his from the outside, holding him in place.
“God, Charlie,” he chuckled, his teeth catching his own tingling lips as he lifted his head. “Does everything have to be your way?”
The thick lashes dipped and the body beneath him undulated as a particularly smug sweet smile spread slowly, sleepily across the beloved face. “Yes, it does,” he proclaimed, stretching his arms back over his head, supremely confident that there would be no tickling.
Don considered it for a moment, then relaxed, stroking the warm forehead and tousled curls with one hand, the other reaching down to curve around the knee and thigh at his hip. “Who spoiled you? Hmm, little boy? Who was the one who let you think it was all about you?” he asked, his voice a little husky. He had intended it to be a tease, but the question he had never asked slipped through his restraint. “Who taught you?”
The huge dark eyes widened further, and Don could tell they were dilating even in the dark. It wasn’t hard to feel the trip of Charlie’s pulse, the little hitch of his breath in this position, literally heart to heart. A glistening tongue moistened swollen lips in the dim light, and Charlie took a deep breath, one hand slipping over Don’s thick, spiky hair, the other curling around his bicep. “Do you really want me to tell you, Don?” he asked warily. “Because I will, if you really want me to.”
Don’s eyes drifted closed, his forehead falling forward against Charlie’s. Their noses grazed at first by accident, the Don repeated it needily, lips brushing Charlie’s open mouth. Did he really want this? Was he going to have to kill somebody if he found out?
“It wasn’t my first lover,” whispered Charlie into his ear. “That was kid stuff.” Don shuddered with the soft puffs of air against the sensitive shell. “And it wasn’t my second. He wasn’t a kid. But he was very glad that I was.”
Fingers dug into his nape, his arm, holding him tight when he stiffened, feeling the anger and revulsion flare, but he was shushed, soothed with soft caresses. “It was okay, Don. I was stronger than he thought. I outgrew him.”
Don shuddered as soft kisses trailed along his jaw, and he raised his head to catch his breath as the large, fine hands stroked his back. “Then there was Leslie, and from her—”
Don jerked back in surprise, looking down into the dark eyes, and Charlie grinned, lifting his eyebrows. “See, I can still surprise you,” he said smugly. “Yeah, Leslie taught me how to take pleasure from giving it. You owe her some flowers, or chocolate, or maybe a nice silk teddy, by the way.”
He relaxed a little, allowing Charlie his confidence, and he teased, “And where would I send this sincere thank you gift?”
“Mathematics department, University of California, Berkeley,” replied Charlie easily, and Don did a double take.
“Is that the same…”
Charlie’s grin crinkled his nose, teeth flashing in the dark, and he nodded. “Oh, yeah. That’s the same...”
“How old— Did Mom know?” gasped Don, shocked but amused.
“I was nineteen, she was forty-one, and Santa Barbara is a very nice meeting place between LA and Berkeley. We became quite the regulars at that bed and breakfast for a couple of years. And no, Mom never knew. But actually, I think she would have liked her. They had the same sense of humor.”
“Wow.” Don shook his head, enjoying Charlie’s delight in his secret, his memory. “Do you still…?”
“We have dinner at conferences and dance at the parties, but she got married, oh, eight years ago now.”
The hands on his shoulders softened and moved in small, familiar patterns as Don tried to reconcile what he knew of his little brother with the new information. He was relieved to know Charlie had had a range of experience and seemed to have avoided being traumatized by a potentially exploitative relationship, had even found something loving and easy in its wake, but he couldn’t fight the twinges of jealousy that seemed to make his muscles twitch.
“But you know what, Don?”
He surfaced, reeled in by the deep voice that resonated in his own body, and he looked down into the velvety eyes as long, graceful fingers slipped over his neck. “The best things I’ve learned about loving, and being loved, those came from my last lover.”
Don bit his lip hard, knowing from the soothing hands that his jealousy had broadcast itself loud and clear to the body underneath his. “And what do I owe this one? Champagne and strawberries?”
Charlie shook his head slowly. “No, nothing like that,” he said softly, his hand stroking Don’s flushed cheek, his thumb passing over the swollen lips. “He’s not the kind for the romantic gesture. Or material things. He taught me about being safe, and comfortable, and that hot dogs and a baseball game can be the best date ever.” Don felt his stomach whirling, and he closed his eyes as Charlie’s soft words washed over him. He didn’t want to hear about someone else who made Charlie’s eyes or voice glow like that. “He taught me about trust and loyalty and passion, and letting it be about me without it being about how smart I am or how cute I am, because frankly, I think he thinks I’m a dork.”
Don’s jaw tightened as he opened his eyes to Charlie’s amused expression. “Did he say that to you?” he asked, his hand tightening on Charlie’s thigh, his body tensing for the fight.
Charlie’s laugh was extraordinary, spilling over, through him as his long throat arched back. “Don, you jerk, it’s you!”
Don blinked. He swallowed, eyebrows tensing, then blinked again. “What?” he managed finally, brilliantly.
“You’re my last lover,” he said softly, drawing those talented, slightly chalk-dried fingertips down his face, his throat, his chest as his body moved instinctively into the caress. “The last one I’ve had, the last one, God willing, I will ever have.”
“God, Charlie, you—” Don collapsed on top of him, holding him fiercely.
Charlie’s arms tightened around him, even as an unseemly giggle burbled up in his throat.
“You did that on purpose, didn’t you?” accused Don, rolling to the side, but still entangled with Charlie’s prehensile limbs. “You wound me up—”
“I didn’t wind you up, you did that aaaalllll by yourself,” Charlie chuckled, evidently enjoying himself far too much. “I thought you’d get it, but no, all that testosterone was just zinging through you… I could feel it rushing in your ears, you weren’t hearing me at all." He smirked. "Would you like to step outside and have a word with yourself?”
“I’ll show you ‘last lover’,” threatened Don, reaching down to grab Charlie just hard enough to make him squeak. “Watch it, little boy, or I’ll make sure I’m the last one you ever fuck with.”
Charlie merely smiled serenely and arched into his hand, winding his arms around Don and rolling over him again. “No need for such drastic measures,” he breathed, undulating on top of him like a cat, his head moving back into the caress of his other hand. His hands marked magic down Don’s chest as he leaned close enough to feel him breathe, eyes overpowering. His voice dropped into a low, husky register that they both knew took Don's breath away. “Let me show you another meaning to the word ‘last’…”
Don groaned pleasurably into Charlie’s kiss, hands pressing down the graceful back, knowing that this was a contest they both could win.
Author: Nina
Pairing/Characters: Don/Charlie
Rating/Category: Mature, slash (not terribly explicit, but then, incest)
Word Count: 2123
Spoilers/references: teeny tiny one for Obsession
Summary: Wherein Don finds out that Charlie has a past
Notes/Warnings: I’ve had a tendency to write intense. This was a conscious effort to go for playful; there’s still a little angst (because this is Don & Charlie, and it’s practically unavoidable), but they also deserve a little downtime.
And thanks to
schnaucl for a great beta. And great patience. Believe me, I tested it.The low wheeze of the air conditioner was almost soothing, despite the lack of any actual cool air, a steady drone to the counterpoint of their slow, asynchronous breathing. The security light filtering through the heavy curtains was just enough to hint at the overly familiar outlines of a standard budget hotel room; or the equally familiar, but ever-intriguing profile on the pillow next to him.
He had never quite adjusted to the exotic beauty who had taken the place of his gawky little brother sometime between the time they went their separate ways to college and when he came home to watch their mother die. He could see her ghost in the distinctive line of the nose, the fullness of the lips, even the strong eyebrows. The long lashes that fluttered against flawless olive skin and the slightly playful smile that quirked his mouth, though, those belonged to only one person.
One eyebrow lifted over closed eyes, and the quiet voice resonated through the bed, their bodies. “Do I have something on my nose?”
He chuckled softly, propping his head on his elbow. “No. Your nose is fine.”
“Are you just going to lie there and look at me?”
“I just might at that,” he replied, his smile warming his voice.
“Don’t you want to sleep?”
“I can sleep later.” He reached out, light fingers tracing the profile before him. “I’m having too much fun watching you not sleep.”
White teeth nipped at his fingertips, and he let his forefinger linger as soft lips suckled for a moment. The moist finger drew down over the slightly stubbled chin, which lifted, exposing the long, enticing line of pale throat. Skimming the prominent Adam’s apple provoked a ticklish giggle, and he leaned in to draw his tongue up over the same spot as his fingers continued down, riffling through soft hair, tracing the roundness of pectoral muscle.
The small body at his side twisted, torn between the impulse to contract against the tickling and to stretch into the caresses.
“Don!” The protest melted into a giggle, and suddenly, Don was flipped onto his back, straddled and pinned by the hands at his shoulders. His protest was perfunctory, and he shifted only to get more comfortable, reaching down to push the bony hips a little further down into the cradle of his own pelvis. Springy curls swept against his face as soft lips brushed his cheek on the way down, sharp teeth nipping at his earlobe, the side of his throat.
“Hey, hey, hey, it’s too hot for this.”
“You’re the one who started it,” was the airy response, the firm, warm tongue probing just the right spot behind his ear to make him squirm. “If the FBI weren’t so cheap, we’d each have a decent room with air conditioning that worked.”
“Charlie, we’re in Central Nowhere, Arizona in August. Even if the FBI could spring for two rooms, I doubt—ah!—” His voice caught as nimble, knowing fingers ran along the grooves of his ribs, up into his armpits. “Stop it!”
He could feel Charlie’s grin against the sensitive skin beneath his arm. “You gonna make me?”
Despite the warm provocation of lips and tongue, that was a challenge no self-respecting big brother could possibly resist, and Don curled up, wrapping his arm around Charlie’s neck. Using his strength to cradle his head and shoulders safely, he flipped his little brother over and straddled him across the width of the double bed they shared, even though there was another, still made, an arm’s length away.
But, damn, if Charlie couldn’t find a way to reverse his reversal, clever fingers creeping up the outsides of his thighs, a wicked light touch against the growth of hair, up under the hems of his white cotton boxers. All the while, the brat was looking up at him with the most innocent, wide-eyed, adoring gaze he had ever seen.
Don groaned, dropping onto his hands against the bed above Charlie’s shoulders, and he caught the twinkle in the dark eyes, even in the muted light, as he leaned down for a kiss.
Of course, nothing was simple with Charlie, a nip at his lower lip, fingertips skimming along the sensitive crease between thigh and buttock, inward toward more dangerous territory still, and Don’s arms collapsed, his weight falling onto his elbows, his hands curving over the mop of curls as he tongued tender curses into Charlie’s willing mouth. He ought to feel silly with his ass in the air and his callused fingers catching in windblown tangles, but he was too lost in the soft, wet caresses and tiny whimpers that salted the kisses, his or Charlie’s, it didn’t really matter.
The surprisingly strong little body arched under him, toward him, hands pulling and arranging his willing form to Charlie’s satisfaction, his hips resting deep between sturdy thighs. Don slid one thigh across his brother’s, only to feel an exasperated sigh bubble through the liesurely kisses as a graceful evasive manoeuvre outfoxed him, and both of Charlie’s legs wound around his from the outside, holding him in place.
“God, Charlie,” he chuckled, his teeth catching his own tingling lips as he lifted his head. “Does everything have to be your way?”
The thick lashes dipped and the body beneath him undulated as a particularly smug sweet smile spread slowly, sleepily across the beloved face. “Yes, it does,” he proclaimed, stretching his arms back over his head, supremely confident that there would be no tickling.
Don considered it for a moment, then relaxed, stroking the warm forehead and tousled curls with one hand, the other reaching down to curve around the knee and thigh at his hip. “Who spoiled you? Hmm, little boy? Who was the one who let you think it was all about you?” he asked, his voice a little husky. He had intended it to be a tease, but the question he had never asked slipped through his restraint. “Who taught you?”
The huge dark eyes widened further, and Don could tell they were dilating even in the dark. It wasn’t hard to feel the trip of Charlie’s pulse, the little hitch of his breath in this position, literally heart to heart. A glistening tongue moistened swollen lips in the dim light, and Charlie took a deep breath, one hand slipping over Don’s thick, spiky hair, the other curling around his bicep. “Do you really want me to tell you, Don?” he asked warily. “Because I will, if you really want me to.”
Don’s eyes drifted closed, his forehead falling forward against Charlie’s. Their noses grazed at first by accident, the Don repeated it needily, lips brushing Charlie’s open mouth. Did he really want this? Was he going to have to kill somebody if he found out?
“It wasn’t my first lover,” whispered Charlie into his ear. “That was kid stuff.” Don shuddered with the soft puffs of air against the sensitive shell. “And it wasn’t my second. He wasn’t a kid. But he was very glad that I was.”
Fingers dug into his nape, his arm, holding him tight when he stiffened, feeling the anger and revulsion flare, but he was shushed, soothed with soft caresses. “It was okay, Don. I was stronger than he thought. I outgrew him.”
Don shuddered as soft kisses trailed along his jaw, and he raised his head to catch his breath as the large, fine hands stroked his back. “Then there was Leslie, and from her—”
Don jerked back in surprise, looking down into the dark eyes, and Charlie grinned, lifting his eyebrows. “See, I can still surprise you,” he said smugly. “Yeah, Leslie taught me how to take pleasure from giving it. You owe her some flowers, or chocolate, or maybe a nice silk teddy, by the way.”
He relaxed a little, allowing Charlie his confidence, and he teased, “And where would I send this sincere thank you gift?”
“Mathematics department, University of California, Berkeley,” replied Charlie easily, and Don did a double take.
“Is that the same…”
Charlie’s grin crinkled his nose, teeth flashing in the dark, and he nodded. “Oh, yeah. That’s the same...”
“How old— Did Mom know?” gasped Don, shocked but amused.
“I was nineteen, she was forty-one, and Santa Barbara is a very nice meeting place between LA and Berkeley. We became quite the regulars at that bed and breakfast for a couple of years. And no, Mom never knew. But actually, I think she would have liked her. They had the same sense of humor.”
“Wow.” Don shook his head, enjoying Charlie’s delight in his secret, his memory. “Do you still…?”
“We have dinner at conferences and dance at the parties, but she got married, oh, eight years ago now.”
The hands on his shoulders softened and moved in small, familiar patterns as Don tried to reconcile what he knew of his little brother with the new information. He was relieved to know Charlie had had a range of experience and seemed to have avoided being traumatized by a potentially exploitative relationship, had even found something loving and easy in its wake, but he couldn’t fight the twinges of jealousy that seemed to make his muscles twitch.
“But you know what, Don?”
He surfaced, reeled in by the deep voice that resonated in his own body, and he looked down into the velvety eyes as long, graceful fingers slipped over his neck. “The best things I’ve learned about loving, and being loved, those came from my last lover.”
Don bit his lip hard, knowing from the soothing hands that his jealousy had broadcast itself loud and clear to the body underneath his. “And what do I owe this one? Champagne and strawberries?”
Charlie shook his head slowly. “No, nothing like that,” he said softly, his hand stroking Don’s flushed cheek, his thumb passing over the swollen lips. “He’s not the kind for the romantic gesture. Or material things. He taught me about being safe, and comfortable, and that hot dogs and a baseball game can be the best date ever.” Don felt his stomach whirling, and he closed his eyes as Charlie’s soft words washed over him. He didn’t want to hear about someone else who made Charlie’s eyes or voice glow like that. “He taught me about trust and loyalty and passion, and letting it be about me without it being about how smart I am or how cute I am, because frankly, I think he thinks I’m a dork.”
Don’s jaw tightened as he opened his eyes to Charlie’s amused expression. “Did he say that to you?” he asked, his hand tightening on Charlie’s thigh, his body tensing for the fight.
Charlie’s laugh was extraordinary, spilling over, through him as his long throat arched back. “Don, you jerk, it’s you!”
Don blinked. He swallowed, eyebrows tensing, then blinked again. “What?” he managed finally, brilliantly.
“You’re my last lover,” he said softly, drawing those talented, slightly chalk-dried fingertips down his face, his throat, his chest as his body moved instinctively into the caress. “The last one I’ve had, the last one, God willing, I will ever have.”
“God, Charlie, you—” Don collapsed on top of him, holding him fiercely.
Charlie’s arms tightened around him, even as an unseemly giggle burbled up in his throat.
“You did that on purpose, didn’t you?” accused Don, rolling to the side, but still entangled with Charlie’s prehensile limbs. “You wound me up—”
“I didn’t wind you up, you did that aaaalllll by yourself,” Charlie chuckled, evidently enjoying himself far too much. “I thought you’d get it, but no, all that testosterone was just zinging through you… I could feel it rushing in your ears, you weren’t hearing me at all." He smirked. "Would you like to step outside and have a word with yourself?”
“I’ll show you ‘last lover’,” threatened Don, reaching down to grab Charlie just hard enough to make him squeak. “Watch it, little boy, or I’ll make sure I’m the last one you ever fuck with.”
Charlie merely smiled serenely and arched into his hand, winding his arms around Don and rolling over him again. “No need for such drastic measures,” he breathed, undulating on top of him like a cat, his head moving back into the caress of his other hand. His hands marked magic down Don’s chest as he leaned close enough to feel him breathe, eyes overpowering. His voice dropped into a low, husky register that they both knew took Don's breath away. “Let me show you another meaning to the word ‘last’…”
Don groaned pleasurably into Charlie’s kiss, hands pressing down the graceful back, knowing that this was a contest they both could win.
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