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numb3rsflashficTitle: Don and Charlie in the Kitchen with Olive Oil
Pairing/Characters: Don/Charlie
Rating/Category: NC17/Slash/Incest
Word Count: 1709 words
Spoilers: None.
Summary: The title pretty much says it all. *g*
Notes/Warning: PWP; incest.
Written: April 9, 2008
Don followed Charlie into the kitchen, both hands full of empty takeout containers. He dumped them into the trash and then watched Charlie rinse the empty beer bottles with a concentration the task didn’t warrant. It reminded Don of the way Charlie looked when he was studying a particularly frustrating equation, or when he had Don naked and at his mercy and wondered where he should start, or where he should strike next. That last image had heat coiling pleasantly in Don’s stomach and his cock offering an interested twitch.
“Want another?” Charlie asked, oblivious to Don’s line of thought and his body’s ensuing reaction. On his way from the sink to the refrigerator, Don caught Charlie and trapped him against the island.
Charlie laughed and tried to escape by sliding sideways; Don placed a hand on either side of Charlie to keep him in place.
Eyes bright and cheeks flushed from too many beers with dinner -- or the press of Don’s body against his -- Charlie placed his palms against Don’s chest. “I thought you wanted to watch the rest of the game.”
Don slid his hands off the counter top to Charlie’s hips. “I can be spontaneous.”
Charlie snorted.
“What? I can! Flexible, even.”
Charlie grinned. “Flexible, huh?”
Don loved the sound of Charlie’s laughter, but he wanted to kiss that teasing grin right off Charlie’s face. So he did.
Charlie made a sweet little sound deep in his throat and flexed his fingers against Don’s chest. He opened easily to Don’s tongue, his own dancing eagerly with Don’s before retreating, inviting Don into his mouth.
Charlie tasted like Chinese takeout and beer, and underneath that, the familiar taste that was just Charlie. Don couldn’t get enough of it.
Don tilted his head, deepened the kiss. Charlie slid his hands up, curled one around Don’s shoulder, digging his fingers into Don’s skin as if he needed to hold on or fly away. The other he slid around the back of Don’s neck, buried it in Don’s hair, pulling him in and pressing up against him, as if crawling inside Don’s skin would bring them even closer.
When Don broke the kiss they were both breathing heavily, and Charlie was hard against Don’s hip. Don kissed him again and Charlie wiggled until he was straddling Don’s leg, rubbing himself against it, pressing his own thigh into Don’s erection. The kiss became rougher, more needy as they thrust against each other.
From the desperate little moans he was making, Don knew Charlie was close, knew he could make Charlie come just like this, make him come in his pants like a randy teenager. Not that he was much better off.
Don forced himself to pull back, but he couldn’t break the contact with Charlie completely. He dragged his lips across Charlie’s skin, inhaled the scent of him -- chalk, and the gardenia body wash their father had picked up by mistake, and the heady scent that meant Charlie.
Charlie whined in Don’s ear and it went straight to his cock, but Don refused to give in. Instead he whispered, “I want to fuck you. God, Charlie, please.”
Charlie moved against him. “Yes, Don, yes.” He grabbed Don’s arm. “Bedroom.”
Don held firm when Charlie tried to move him out of the way. Voice a harsh rasp, Don said, “Right here, Charlie, I want to fuck you right here.”
Charlie gasped and dug his fingers into Don’s arm. “Don, this is the kitchen!”
But he didn’t say ‘no’. Not that Don wouldn’t have followed Charlie to the bedroom if Charlie’s eyes hadn’t gone wide and dark, if his cock hadn’t twitched eagerly against Don’s leg at the words.
“Oh, yeah,” Don teased, breath feathering across Charlie’s jaw, his ear, “you want me to fuck you right here, bend you over the island and make it so good you get hard every time you even think about walking in here.”
Charlie’s whimper was all it took to set Don into motion. He twirled Charlie around and pushed gently between his shoulder blades. Charlie bent, and Don bent with him, pressed his front to Charlie’s back, lifted Charlie’s hair out of the way and kissed the back of his neck.
Nibbling and sucking on Charlie’s neck, Don reached around Charlie, hastily working button and zip until Charlie’s pants were loose and Don could easily shove them down his legs. Charlie moaned as his ass was bared, and Don took his time running his hands over the warm skin. He lifted up enough to shove Charlie’s t-shirt up, fingers skimming the bumps of Charlie’s spine.
Don dropped a kiss between Charlie’s shoulder blades his hands continued to tease Charlie, reaching between his legs to cup his balls, stroking the tips of his fingers along Charlie’s crack, over his eager little hole.
“Donnie, please,” Charlie groaned.
Don hadn’t thought ahead on the matter of lube, but he saw the bottle of olive oil -- extra virgin, which made him smile -- setting on the island. Charlie started to argue when he saw Don reach for the bottle, but Don ignored him. He tipped the bottle until the oil dribbled out, pooling in the sweet dip of Charlie’s lower back before gravity caught it and sent it flowing towards Charlie’s ass, between his cheeks.
“Don, that tickles!” Charlie complained as the oil trickled over his hole and coated his balls.
Don would have chuckled at Charlie’s protest, but he was too turned on by the sight of Charlie’s shiny hole, all slick and just waiting for Don to push inside. He slid his hand off Charlie’s back, cupped his fingers above Charlie’s balls and let the oil fill them. He made sure his fingers were thoroughly covered, then pressed one inside Charlie, watching as Charlie opened around him and took him in.
Charlie moaned and pushed back. Don moved his finger in and out a few times, feeling Charlie all soft and warm and tight around him, then pushed in with two.
“Come on, Donnie,” Charlie gasped, spreading his legs as far as his pants would allow and fucking himself on Don’s fingers.
Don figured he could come from just this, watching Charlie come apart on his fingers, but he wanted so much more than that. He put down the bottle and fumbled one-handed with his own button and zip, wishing he’d taken the time to undo them before he’d oiled up his other hand, yet reluctant, in any case, to remove his fingers from Charlie’s body until he could replace them with his cock.
Don shoved his pants down, his movements jerky and uncoordinated as he concentrated on the way Charlie felt around him, the desperate little sounds he made as he fucked himself on Don’s fingers. As soon as they were down far enough to free his cock, Don withdrew his fingers from Charlie, wiped the oil onto his cock, then dragged it through the oil coating Charlie’s ass.
Charlie moaned as Don’s prick teased his hole, then again when Don lined up and pressed into him. “Yeah, yeah, Don.”
Don gasped, “Jesus, Charlie,” as he slid all the way inside, his way eased by the oil and hastened by Charlie’s impatient shove backwards.
“Now fuck me,” Charlie demanded, though it was softened by the breathless tone in which it was uttered.
Don pulled out, then pushed back in, then again, slow, deep strokes, making sure he grazed Charlie’s sweet spot. Don sped up his thrusts, and Charlie pressed his forehead to the counter top, gripped the far edge until his knuckles went white. He bent over Charlie’s back, pressed his face to Charlie’s neck.
This close, Don could hear Charlie’s mumbled, “Yeah, yeah, oh god, Don,” and it spurred him on. He got one hand under Charlie’s chest, pulled him up and back until he could get his lips on Charlie’s. He slid his other hand around Charlie, wrapped oil-slicked fingers around his cock and started stroking him in time with the thrusts into his ass.
When the mumbling turned into wordless grunts and gasps, Don knew Charlie was close. “Yeah, come on, Charlie, want you to come for me,” Don urged, and Charlie keened deep in his throat as he stiffened, then jerked his hips as his cock pulsed in Don’s hand, spilling over Don’s fingers.
Charlie’s ass clamped down on Don’s cock when he came, and white lights went off behind Don’s eyes. “God, Charlie,” Don choked out as he drove into Charlie, desperate now for his own release. Charlie was limp and sated beneath him, and that was just as much of a turn on as it had been when Charlie was moaning and squirming.
“Love you, Donnie,” Charlie muttered softly.
“Jesus,” Don swore, and slammed one last time into Charlie’s ass before emptying himself into Charlie. “Jesus, Charlie,” Don said as his entire body slowly unclenched, “I love you, too.”
Don could have laid there longer, resting on Charlie, but Charlie nudged him with an elbow and said, “This is really uncomfortable now. Plus, your come is running down my leg.”
Don chuckled and lifted himself off Charlie, gently withdrew from him. He watched the trickle of come slide down Charlie’s leg.
Charlie glared at him over his shoulder. “Yeah, you’re the big man. Now could you get me a paper towel, please?”
Still chuckling, Don got the roll of towels and helped Charlie clean up himself and the cupboard, then carefully wiped off his own cock. Once they were put to rights and no trace of what they’d done was left in the kitchen, Don got two bottles of beer out of the fridge. He popped the tops, then handed one to Charlie.
“I’ll never be able to eat anything in that kitchen again,” Charlie bemoaned.
Don leered at Charlie. “Bet you I can change your mind.”
Charlie blushed. “No more sex in the kitchen.”
“Well, we could always try something else next time.”
Charlie gave him a suspicious glare. “Like what?”
“Oh, I don’t know. I could always bend you over the coffee table and fuck you during half-time.”
Charlie’s eyes went a little unfocused. “Half-time’s already over.”
“There’s always next Monday,” Don said, only half-serious, yet already imagining it.
The End
Pairing/Characters: Don/Charlie
Rating/Category: NC17/Slash/Incest
Word Count: 1709 words
Spoilers: None.
Summary: The title pretty much says it all. *g*
Notes/Warning: PWP; incest.
Written: April 9, 2008
Don followed Charlie into the kitchen, both hands full of empty takeout containers. He dumped them into the trash and then watched Charlie rinse the empty beer bottles with a concentration the task didn’t warrant. It reminded Don of the way Charlie looked when he was studying a particularly frustrating equation, or when he had Don naked and at his mercy and wondered where he should start, or where he should strike next. That last image had heat coiling pleasantly in Don’s stomach and his cock offering an interested twitch.
“Want another?” Charlie asked, oblivious to Don’s line of thought and his body’s ensuing reaction. On his way from the sink to the refrigerator, Don caught Charlie and trapped him against the island.
Charlie laughed and tried to escape by sliding sideways; Don placed a hand on either side of Charlie to keep him in place.
Eyes bright and cheeks flushed from too many beers with dinner -- or the press of Don’s body against his -- Charlie placed his palms against Don’s chest. “I thought you wanted to watch the rest of the game.”
Don slid his hands off the counter top to Charlie’s hips. “I can be spontaneous.”
Charlie snorted.
“What? I can! Flexible, even.”
Charlie grinned. “Flexible, huh?”
Don loved the sound of Charlie’s laughter, but he wanted to kiss that teasing grin right off Charlie’s face. So he did.
Charlie made a sweet little sound deep in his throat and flexed his fingers against Don’s chest. He opened easily to Don’s tongue, his own dancing eagerly with Don’s before retreating, inviting Don into his mouth.
Charlie tasted like Chinese takeout and beer, and underneath that, the familiar taste that was just Charlie. Don couldn’t get enough of it.
Don tilted his head, deepened the kiss. Charlie slid his hands up, curled one around Don’s shoulder, digging his fingers into Don’s skin as if he needed to hold on or fly away. The other he slid around the back of Don’s neck, buried it in Don’s hair, pulling him in and pressing up against him, as if crawling inside Don’s skin would bring them even closer.
When Don broke the kiss they were both breathing heavily, and Charlie was hard against Don’s hip. Don kissed him again and Charlie wiggled until he was straddling Don’s leg, rubbing himself against it, pressing his own thigh into Don’s erection. The kiss became rougher, more needy as they thrust against each other.
From the desperate little moans he was making, Don knew Charlie was close, knew he could make Charlie come just like this, make him come in his pants like a randy teenager. Not that he was much better off.
Don forced himself to pull back, but he couldn’t break the contact with Charlie completely. He dragged his lips across Charlie’s skin, inhaled the scent of him -- chalk, and the gardenia body wash their father had picked up by mistake, and the heady scent that meant Charlie.
Charlie whined in Don’s ear and it went straight to his cock, but Don refused to give in. Instead he whispered, “I want to fuck you. God, Charlie, please.”
Charlie moved against him. “Yes, Don, yes.” He grabbed Don’s arm. “Bedroom.”
Don held firm when Charlie tried to move him out of the way. Voice a harsh rasp, Don said, “Right here, Charlie, I want to fuck you right here.”
Charlie gasped and dug his fingers into Don’s arm. “Don, this is the kitchen!”
But he didn’t say ‘no’. Not that Don wouldn’t have followed Charlie to the bedroom if Charlie’s eyes hadn’t gone wide and dark, if his cock hadn’t twitched eagerly against Don’s leg at the words.
“Oh, yeah,” Don teased, breath feathering across Charlie’s jaw, his ear, “you want me to fuck you right here, bend you over the island and make it so good you get hard every time you even think about walking in here.”
Charlie’s whimper was all it took to set Don into motion. He twirled Charlie around and pushed gently between his shoulder blades. Charlie bent, and Don bent with him, pressed his front to Charlie’s back, lifted Charlie’s hair out of the way and kissed the back of his neck.
Nibbling and sucking on Charlie’s neck, Don reached around Charlie, hastily working button and zip until Charlie’s pants were loose and Don could easily shove them down his legs. Charlie moaned as his ass was bared, and Don took his time running his hands over the warm skin. He lifted up enough to shove Charlie’s t-shirt up, fingers skimming the bumps of Charlie’s spine.
Don dropped a kiss between Charlie’s shoulder blades his hands continued to tease Charlie, reaching between his legs to cup his balls, stroking the tips of his fingers along Charlie’s crack, over his eager little hole.
“Donnie, please,” Charlie groaned.
Don hadn’t thought ahead on the matter of lube, but he saw the bottle of olive oil -- extra virgin, which made him smile -- setting on the island. Charlie started to argue when he saw Don reach for the bottle, but Don ignored him. He tipped the bottle until the oil dribbled out, pooling in the sweet dip of Charlie’s lower back before gravity caught it and sent it flowing towards Charlie’s ass, between his cheeks.
“Don, that tickles!” Charlie complained as the oil trickled over his hole and coated his balls.
Don would have chuckled at Charlie’s protest, but he was too turned on by the sight of Charlie’s shiny hole, all slick and just waiting for Don to push inside. He slid his hand off Charlie’s back, cupped his fingers above Charlie’s balls and let the oil fill them. He made sure his fingers were thoroughly covered, then pressed one inside Charlie, watching as Charlie opened around him and took him in.
Charlie moaned and pushed back. Don moved his finger in and out a few times, feeling Charlie all soft and warm and tight around him, then pushed in with two.
“Come on, Donnie,” Charlie gasped, spreading his legs as far as his pants would allow and fucking himself on Don’s fingers.
Don figured he could come from just this, watching Charlie come apart on his fingers, but he wanted so much more than that. He put down the bottle and fumbled one-handed with his own button and zip, wishing he’d taken the time to undo them before he’d oiled up his other hand, yet reluctant, in any case, to remove his fingers from Charlie’s body until he could replace them with his cock.
Don shoved his pants down, his movements jerky and uncoordinated as he concentrated on the way Charlie felt around him, the desperate little sounds he made as he fucked himself on Don’s fingers. As soon as they were down far enough to free his cock, Don withdrew his fingers from Charlie, wiped the oil onto his cock, then dragged it through the oil coating Charlie’s ass.
Charlie moaned as Don’s prick teased his hole, then again when Don lined up and pressed into him. “Yeah, yeah, Don.”
Don gasped, “Jesus, Charlie,” as he slid all the way inside, his way eased by the oil and hastened by Charlie’s impatient shove backwards.
“Now fuck me,” Charlie demanded, though it was softened by the breathless tone in which it was uttered.
Don pulled out, then pushed back in, then again, slow, deep strokes, making sure he grazed Charlie’s sweet spot. Don sped up his thrusts, and Charlie pressed his forehead to the counter top, gripped the far edge until his knuckles went white. He bent over Charlie’s back, pressed his face to Charlie’s neck.
This close, Don could hear Charlie’s mumbled, “Yeah, yeah, oh god, Don,” and it spurred him on. He got one hand under Charlie’s chest, pulled him up and back until he could get his lips on Charlie’s. He slid his other hand around Charlie, wrapped oil-slicked fingers around his cock and started stroking him in time with the thrusts into his ass.
When the mumbling turned into wordless grunts and gasps, Don knew Charlie was close. “Yeah, come on, Charlie, want you to come for me,” Don urged, and Charlie keened deep in his throat as he stiffened, then jerked his hips as his cock pulsed in Don’s hand, spilling over Don’s fingers.
Charlie’s ass clamped down on Don’s cock when he came, and white lights went off behind Don’s eyes. “God, Charlie,” Don choked out as he drove into Charlie, desperate now for his own release. Charlie was limp and sated beneath him, and that was just as much of a turn on as it had been when Charlie was moaning and squirming.
“Love you, Donnie,” Charlie muttered softly.
“Jesus,” Don swore, and slammed one last time into Charlie’s ass before emptying himself into Charlie. “Jesus, Charlie,” Don said as his entire body slowly unclenched, “I love you, too.”
Don could have laid there longer, resting on Charlie, but Charlie nudged him with an elbow and said, “This is really uncomfortable now. Plus, your come is running down my leg.”
Don chuckled and lifted himself off Charlie, gently withdrew from him. He watched the trickle of come slide down Charlie’s leg.
Charlie glared at him over his shoulder. “Yeah, you’re the big man. Now could you get me a paper towel, please?”
Still chuckling, Don got the roll of towels and helped Charlie clean up himself and the cupboard, then carefully wiped off his own cock. Once they were put to rights and no trace of what they’d done was left in the kitchen, Don got two bottles of beer out of the fridge. He popped the tops, then handed one to Charlie.
“I’ll never be able to eat anything in that kitchen again,” Charlie bemoaned.
Don leered at Charlie. “Bet you I can change your mind.”
Charlie blushed. “No more sex in the kitchen.”
“Well, we could always try something else next time.”
Charlie gave him a suspicious glare. “Like what?”
“Oh, I don’t know. I could always bend you over the coffee table and fuck you during half-time.”
Charlie’s eyes went a little unfocused. “Half-time’s already over.”
“There’s always next Monday,” Don said, only half-serious, yet already imagining it.
The End
