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numb3rsflashficTitle: Promise?
Pairing/Characters: Don/Charlie
Rating/Category: NC17/Slash
Word Count: 2496 words
Spoilers: Through 5.03 Blowback.
Summary: Don’s secret is out.
Notes/Warning: Tag for 5.03 Blowback; first-time; mild angst of the incest kind. Oh, yeah, and incest. *g*
Written: June 20, 2009
Don had stayed away from L.A. (and Charlie) for 7 years, and even after he’d returned home because of his mother’s illness he did his best to stay away from Charlie. His best had never been good enough, though, because he ended up dropping by the house on the flimsiest of excuses. Because he couldn’t say no to Dad’s pot roast, or because the house was closer and he just needed a quick shower and a change of clothes before returning to the office, or because he still got most of his mail there.
He’d been afraid to let Charlie work with him as a consultant for the FBI. He wished he could say that he’d been worried about Charlie’s physical safety, but in truth, Don had been more worried about whether he would be able to concentrate on the case with Charlie around. Whether having Charlie in his space so often would wear down Don’s resolve to keep away from Charlie.
Four years they’d managed, or rather, Don had managed. He’d managed to work with Charlie despite the issues that dogged them since their childhood, despite his crazy, horrible attraction to Charlie, and then, with one press of the key, one e-mail of sensitive information, they were no longer working together.
Don had gotten used to it. Had grown accustomed to having just this much of Charlie, and nothing more. And now even that had been taken away from him; might be taken away permanently if McGowan had his way.
Don didn’t know how he was going to deal with Charlie now, if Charlie was no longer a consultant with the FBI. If Don didn’t have this box to place Charlie in, this label to place on Charlie, right next to the ‘do not touch’ label, which Don had capitalized and bolded in his mind.
Nor did Don know what had possessed him to go to McGowan to plead Charlie’s case. Even in the midst of this turmoil, of knowing that he could lose his job because McGowan had a hard on for them, knowing that McGowan was just using Charlie to get to Don, he hadn’t been able to stay away.
Don often wondered if anyone else could see how he felt about Charlie. He tried to hide it, but sometimes it felt like he had it tattooed on his forehead. The more he pushed Charlie away, the more transparent he felt.
After his meeting with McGowan, after being told that he and Charlie had the same way of looking at things, Don drove out to the house. It was probably a mistake, but he was still coming down from the adrenaline rush -- working up the courage to speak to McGowan, enjoying the thought that at least one person in the world thought that he and Charlie were anything alike -- and he couldn’t stay away.
Charlie sat on the couch, a book open on his lap, the television tuned to the Angel’s game when Don pushed the door open. “Hey, buddy,” Don said as he stepped into the house.
Charlie glanced up from the book and smiled when he saw Don. “Don, hey. What are you doing here?”
Don shrugged as he turned away from Charlie’s welcoming smile to hang up his jacket. He flipped through the pile of unopened mail on the table as if that’s what had brought him by, and only when he was done, when his defenses against Charlie’s smile were back in place, did he turn his attention back to Charlie, who was glancing between him and the game, a worried frown on his face.
“Where’s Dad?”
Charlie’s frown twisted into a wry grin. “Study group.”
Don chuckled. “That sounds . . . .”
“Weird, I know,” Charlie said. “Have you eaten? There’s leftovers.”
Don had been inclined to say he wasn’t hungry, as he didn’t want to put Charlie to any trouble, but when he heard the magic word, leftovers, he said, “What kind of leftovers?”
“Dad made this really excellent stew, with homemade bread. And he stocked up on beer, just in case you came over.”
Don laughed. “Don’t lay the blame for that on me, buddy.”
“What, you’re the one who drinks all the beer!” Charlie insisted, as he rose from the couch and set his book on the coffee table.
Half an hour later they were both naked.
~*~*~*~
Don wished he could say that he didn’t know how it had happened, but he knew all too well. Defenses lowered because of beer and the warmth of Charlie’s arm pressed to his as they leaned against one another and watched the game; the tickle of Charlie’s hair against his cheek when Don leaned down to say something; Charlie looking up at him with big, worried eyes, and saying, “I’m sorry, Don. I never meant . . . .”
“No, Charlie, shhh,” Don said. “It’s going to be all right, I promise.”
Don knew that it was a promise he might not be able to keep, but he couldn’t stand it when Charlie looked upset like that. Don hadn’t been able to bear it when Charlie was five years old and insisted on telling Don all about the numbers in his head, even though Don couldn’t care less about them, and he couldn’t bear it now.
He reached up and stroked Charlie’s hair, just as he used to do back then, and Charlie dropped his head back, let his eyes fall closed. Just as he’d done back then. Except now, Charlie wasn’t five years old, and when he said, “Donnie,” it didn’t sound at all the same as it had when he’d once giggled and begged Don not to stop.
Don stroked Charlie’s hair and studied his face, gaze pausing on Charlie’s lips. When they moved, it took Don a few seconds to realize that Charlie was speaking. Don’s eyes shot up to Charlie’s, now open and staring at Don in concern.
Charlie must have seen something in Don’s eyes, because suddenly his own widened in understanding. Don felt as if he’d been burned, and he nearly shot off the couch. Charlie grabbed his arm and dragged him back, then slid his leg across Don’s to hold him there.
“Don,” Charlie said, speaking softly, “Don, look at me.”
Despite every muscle being tensed to run, and every sense telling him how really, really bad of an idea it was, Don allowed a gentle hand to turn his face until he and Charlie were practically nose to nose.
“Don, tell me again,” Charlie said, “tell me everything’s going to be all right.”
Charlie sounded five, but god, he looked like sex on legs. Hair a little bit mussed from Don’s hand, lips red and swollen from where he’d been biting at them, eyes wide and dark with . . . Jesus, with arousal.
Don knew it was a lie, but he said, “I promise. Charlie, I promise,” and then, his hand sliding over Don’s face, his thumb stroking Don’s jaw, Charlie kissed him.
And because Charlie had always had power over Don, had always been able to get his way with his wide eyes, pleading smile, and a, “please, Donnie,” Don dragged Charlie closer and kissed him back.
Charlie moaned into the kiss, moaned even louder when Don accidently bit him, and then wiggled until he was nearly in Don’s lap. His hips thrust against Don’s as he pushed his hands through Don’s hair, dragged his head back.
Charlie broke the kiss and licked a trail of fire down Don’s throat. Don shouldn’t have been surprised that, even now, Charlie was talking. It took him a few moments to make out the words pressed into his skin. “I didn’t know, Don, I didn’t know.”
“Damn it, Charlie, you weren’t supposed to know!” Don got his hand in Charlie’s curls and yanked.
Charlie mewled in protest as his lips were torn away from Don’s neck, and then he went limp, head falling back and exposing his throat, looking at Don through eyes half closed, panting through wet, swollen lips. Charlie darted his tongue out to lick said lips, and then said, “Please.”
It was as if every moment that Don had been forced to hold himself back had coalesced and exploded, because Don couldn’t say no. He twisted and dropped Charlie onto the couch, followed him down and covered him with his body. Charlie managed to get his legs free and wrap them around Don as he dragged Don into another kiss.
Don grabbed Charlie’s hip as he thrust down, fingers of one hand digging into denim as the others slid through soft curls, and kissed him like they’d never get the chance again.
When they broke for air, Charlie said, “I can’t believe I didn’t know this.”
“How the hell can you still think, much less talk?” Don demanded.
Charlie grinned and opened his mouth to answer, but before he could, Don claimed it again. He worked his hand between them and found Charlie’s cock, determined to short circuit Charlie’s brain. He squeezed, and Charlie made a sound in Don’s mouth that Don wanted to hear again.
With Charlie humping his hand and whimpering into his mouth, Don still managed to get Charlie’s jeans undone. He shoved his hand inside and found the hot, hard length of him. He got his fingers around Charlie and pulled.
Charlie’s head fell back and he gasped in pleasure, and then he breathed Don’s name, DonDonDon, as he spilled out over Don’s hand.
Before his breathing had evened out, Charlie said, “I want you to fuck me. Don, did you hear me, I said . . . .”
“I heard you, Charlie,” Don groaned as he dropped his forehead to Charlie’s shoulder and came in his pants.
~*~*~*~
“Have you done this before?” Charlie asked after he’d dragged Don upstairs and gotten both their clothes off. “It’s okay if you haven’t, or if you have, I just thought it might be easier if you’d . . . .”
“Jesus, Charlie,” Don said, already getting hard again at the eager, breathy sound of Charlie’s voice, “don’t you ever shut up?”
Before Charlie could reply (and Don just knew he was going to), Don flipped Charlie onto his back and sucked Charlie’s cock into his mouth. Charlie squeaked and spread his legs even wider, hands flailing in the air before coming down to gently land on Don’s head.
Don was gratified to know that, the more he licked at Charlie’s cock, and the deeper he took him, the more noise Charlie made, but said noise didn’t consist of a single intelligible word.
When Charlie started whimpering and pulling at Don’s hair (surprisingly, a turn on), Don slipped his hand between Charlie’s legs and found the entrance to his body. He circled the hole with his thumb to Charlie’s gasping approval, then pressed in with the tip of one finger.
Charlie arched up, driving his cock into Don’s throat. Eyes watering, Don pinned Charlie’s hips to the bed with one hand, then worked his finger the rest of the way into Charlie’s ass. Charlie struggled against Don’s hand, trying to work himself on Don’s finger.
Finally Charlie ceased his efforts to direct Don’s attentions, and tried another tack. He gasped, “I have lube.”
Don moaned around Charlie’s cock, and Charlie made a sound of satisfaction. In retaliation, Don made Charlie get the lube while Don found his prostate and stroked it.
When Charlie finally handed the lube back to Don over his shoulder, Don set it aside. Charlie had been wiggling his ass as he tried to crawl across the mattress to his night stand, and Don couldn’t resist tasting him there.
He withdrew his finger, ignoring Charlie’s whine of protest, and lowered his head until he could lick around Charlie’s hole. It was Don’s turn to make a sound of satisfaction as Charlie moaned and lifted his ass in silent invitation (demand, really) for more. Don licked into Charlie’s ass until Charlie clawed at the sheets and humped the mattress, made noises deep in his throat and chanted Don’s name like a benediction.
Don reached for the lube. He squirted more than he probably needed on his fingers and pressed two of them into Charlie’s hole, already slicked and loosened from Don’s tongue. Charlie never stopped whimpering and moaning. Don found that he quite liked being the reason Charlie went nonverbal.
When he felt that Charlie had been properly prepared, Don withdrew his fingers and wiped the remaining lube onto his cock. Don grabbed Charlie’s hips and raised his ass until Charlie got his knees under him. One hand gripping Charlie’s hip, Don guided the head of his cock to Charlie’s stretched hole, all shiny with lube, and pushed until the head popped inside.
Charlie, impatient as always, got his arms under him and drove himself back onto Don’s cock. Don shuddered as Charlie trembled around him.
“Damn it, Charlie,” Don swore as he gripped Charlie’s hips so he couldn’t move. He pulled out of Charlie, then pushed back in. He did it again, and again, mesmerized by the sight of his cock stretching Charlie’s ass, until Charlie whimpered and said, “Don, please, fuck me!”
It was more than anyone would be able to take, Don assured himself. Charlie’s tight hole, his head hanging down in mock surrender, the hair at the nape of his neck damp with sweat, the muscles in his legs trembling as he struggled against Don’s hold and tried to force Don to move faster.
Don tightened his grip on Charlie’s hips, leaving finger sized bruises on the tender skin, and thrust into Charlie’s ass, going as deep as he could, as hard and as fast as he could. Sweating and gasping for air, Don pulled out and flipped Charlie onto his back once more. He pushed Charlie’s legs back and drove into him.
Charlie whimpered and reached for Don, pulled him down until their lips met. They were too breathless to hold the kiss for long, and they ended up panting against each other’s cheek as they drew closer to release.
Charlie’s raspy breath hitched with every slide of his cock against Don’s stomach, until Charlie moaned, and his back arched as he spilled between them.
Don nearly screamed as Charlie’s ass squeezed him, as warm fluid spread across his stomach. He slammed into Charlie, desperate for his own release as the pressure built in his balls. Pleasure spread through his body, and then his toes curled and his mouth fell open in a silent cry as he finally emptied himself into Charlie’s body.
Don couldn’t hold himself up, but he managed to fall to the side so he wouldn’t squash Charlie. Charlie clung to Don as they recovered, and Don found that he didn’t even mind the come drying on his belly, sticking them together.
Charlie dragged his lips across Don’s skin, mumbled, “Don.”
Don stroked Charlie’s back and said, “It’s all right, Charlie.”
“Promise?”
“I promise, buddy, I promise,” Don said, and hoped it wasn’t a lie.
The End
Pairing/Characters: Don/Charlie
Rating/Category: NC17/Slash
Word Count: 2496 words
Spoilers: Through 5.03 Blowback.
Summary: Don’s secret is out.
Notes/Warning: Tag for 5.03 Blowback; first-time; mild angst of the incest kind. Oh, yeah, and incest. *g*
Written: June 20, 2009
Don had stayed away from L.A. (and Charlie) for 7 years, and even after he’d returned home because of his mother’s illness he did his best to stay away from Charlie. His best had never been good enough, though, because he ended up dropping by the house on the flimsiest of excuses. Because he couldn’t say no to Dad’s pot roast, or because the house was closer and he just needed a quick shower and a change of clothes before returning to the office, or because he still got most of his mail there.
He’d been afraid to let Charlie work with him as a consultant for the FBI. He wished he could say that he’d been worried about Charlie’s physical safety, but in truth, Don had been more worried about whether he would be able to concentrate on the case with Charlie around. Whether having Charlie in his space so often would wear down Don’s resolve to keep away from Charlie.
Four years they’d managed, or rather, Don had managed. He’d managed to work with Charlie despite the issues that dogged them since their childhood, despite his crazy, horrible attraction to Charlie, and then, with one press of the key, one e-mail of sensitive information, they were no longer working together.
Don had gotten used to it. Had grown accustomed to having just this much of Charlie, and nothing more. And now even that had been taken away from him; might be taken away permanently if McGowan had his way.
Don didn’t know how he was going to deal with Charlie now, if Charlie was no longer a consultant with the FBI. If Don didn’t have this box to place Charlie in, this label to place on Charlie, right next to the ‘do not touch’ label, which Don had capitalized and bolded in his mind.
Nor did Don know what had possessed him to go to McGowan to plead Charlie’s case. Even in the midst of this turmoil, of knowing that he could lose his job because McGowan had a hard on for them, knowing that McGowan was just using Charlie to get to Don, he hadn’t been able to stay away.
Don often wondered if anyone else could see how he felt about Charlie. He tried to hide it, but sometimes it felt like he had it tattooed on his forehead. The more he pushed Charlie away, the more transparent he felt.
After his meeting with McGowan, after being told that he and Charlie had the same way of looking at things, Don drove out to the house. It was probably a mistake, but he was still coming down from the adrenaline rush -- working up the courage to speak to McGowan, enjoying the thought that at least one person in the world thought that he and Charlie were anything alike -- and he couldn’t stay away.
Charlie sat on the couch, a book open on his lap, the television tuned to the Angel’s game when Don pushed the door open. “Hey, buddy,” Don said as he stepped into the house.
Charlie glanced up from the book and smiled when he saw Don. “Don, hey. What are you doing here?”
Don shrugged as he turned away from Charlie’s welcoming smile to hang up his jacket. He flipped through the pile of unopened mail on the table as if that’s what had brought him by, and only when he was done, when his defenses against Charlie’s smile were back in place, did he turn his attention back to Charlie, who was glancing between him and the game, a worried frown on his face.
“Where’s Dad?”
Charlie’s frown twisted into a wry grin. “Study group.”
Don chuckled. “That sounds . . . .”
“Weird, I know,” Charlie said. “Have you eaten? There’s leftovers.”
Don had been inclined to say he wasn’t hungry, as he didn’t want to put Charlie to any trouble, but when he heard the magic word, leftovers, he said, “What kind of leftovers?”
“Dad made this really excellent stew, with homemade bread. And he stocked up on beer, just in case you came over.”
Don laughed. “Don’t lay the blame for that on me, buddy.”
“What, you’re the one who drinks all the beer!” Charlie insisted, as he rose from the couch and set his book on the coffee table.
Half an hour later they were both naked.
~*~*~*~
Don wished he could say that he didn’t know how it had happened, but he knew all too well. Defenses lowered because of beer and the warmth of Charlie’s arm pressed to his as they leaned against one another and watched the game; the tickle of Charlie’s hair against his cheek when Don leaned down to say something; Charlie looking up at him with big, worried eyes, and saying, “I’m sorry, Don. I never meant . . . .”
“No, Charlie, shhh,” Don said. “It’s going to be all right, I promise.”
Don knew that it was a promise he might not be able to keep, but he couldn’t stand it when Charlie looked upset like that. Don hadn’t been able to bear it when Charlie was five years old and insisted on telling Don all about the numbers in his head, even though Don couldn’t care less about them, and he couldn’t bear it now.
He reached up and stroked Charlie’s hair, just as he used to do back then, and Charlie dropped his head back, let his eyes fall closed. Just as he’d done back then. Except now, Charlie wasn’t five years old, and when he said, “Donnie,” it didn’t sound at all the same as it had when he’d once giggled and begged Don not to stop.
Don stroked Charlie’s hair and studied his face, gaze pausing on Charlie’s lips. When they moved, it took Don a few seconds to realize that Charlie was speaking. Don’s eyes shot up to Charlie’s, now open and staring at Don in concern.
Charlie must have seen something in Don’s eyes, because suddenly his own widened in understanding. Don felt as if he’d been burned, and he nearly shot off the couch. Charlie grabbed his arm and dragged him back, then slid his leg across Don’s to hold him there.
“Don,” Charlie said, speaking softly, “Don, look at me.”
Despite every muscle being tensed to run, and every sense telling him how really, really bad of an idea it was, Don allowed a gentle hand to turn his face until he and Charlie were practically nose to nose.
“Don, tell me again,” Charlie said, “tell me everything’s going to be all right.”
Charlie sounded five, but god, he looked like sex on legs. Hair a little bit mussed from Don’s hand, lips red and swollen from where he’d been biting at them, eyes wide and dark with . . . Jesus, with arousal.
Don knew it was a lie, but he said, “I promise. Charlie, I promise,” and then, his hand sliding over Don’s face, his thumb stroking Don’s jaw, Charlie kissed him.
And because Charlie had always had power over Don, had always been able to get his way with his wide eyes, pleading smile, and a, “please, Donnie,” Don dragged Charlie closer and kissed him back.
Charlie moaned into the kiss, moaned even louder when Don accidently bit him, and then wiggled until he was nearly in Don’s lap. His hips thrust against Don’s as he pushed his hands through Don’s hair, dragged his head back.
Charlie broke the kiss and licked a trail of fire down Don’s throat. Don shouldn’t have been surprised that, even now, Charlie was talking. It took him a few moments to make out the words pressed into his skin. “I didn’t know, Don, I didn’t know.”
“Damn it, Charlie, you weren’t supposed to know!” Don got his hand in Charlie’s curls and yanked.
Charlie mewled in protest as his lips were torn away from Don’s neck, and then he went limp, head falling back and exposing his throat, looking at Don through eyes half closed, panting through wet, swollen lips. Charlie darted his tongue out to lick said lips, and then said, “Please.”
It was as if every moment that Don had been forced to hold himself back had coalesced and exploded, because Don couldn’t say no. He twisted and dropped Charlie onto the couch, followed him down and covered him with his body. Charlie managed to get his legs free and wrap them around Don as he dragged Don into another kiss.
Don grabbed Charlie’s hip as he thrust down, fingers of one hand digging into denim as the others slid through soft curls, and kissed him like they’d never get the chance again.
When they broke for air, Charlie said, “I can’t believe I didn’t know this.”
“How the hell can you still think, much less talk?” Don demanded.
Charlie grinned and opened his mouth to answer, but before he could, Don claimed it again. He worked his hand between them and found Charlie’s cock, determined to short circuit Charlie’s brain. He squeezed, and Charlie made a sound in Don’s mouth that Don wanted to hear again.
With Charlie humping his hand and whimpering into his mouth, Don still managed to get Charlie’s jeans undone. He shoved his hand inside and found the hot, hard length of him. He got his fingers around Charlie and pulled.
Charlie’s head fell back and he gasped in pleasure, and then he breathed Don’s name, DonDonDon, as he spilled out over Don’s hand.
Before his breathing had evened out, Charlie said, “I want you to fuck me. Don, did you hear me, I said . . . .”
“I heard you, Charlie,” Don groaned as he dropped his forehead to Charlie’s shoulder and came in his pants.
~*~*~*~
“Have you done this before?” Charlie asked after he’d dragged Don upstairs and gotten both their clothes off. “It’s okay if you haven’t, or if you have, I just thought it might be easier if you’d . . . .”
“Jesus, Charlie,” Don said, already getting hard again at the eager, breathy sound of Charlie’s voice, “don’t you ever shut up?”
Before Charlie could reply (and Don just knew he was going to), Don flipped Charlie onto his back and sucked Charlie’s cock into his mouth. Charlie squeaked and spread his legs even wider, hands flailing in the air before coming down to gently land on Don’s head.
Don was gratified to know that, the more he licked at Charlie’s cock, and the deeper he took him, the more noise Charlie made, but said noise didn’t consist of a single intelligible word.
When Charlie started whimpering and pulling at Don’s hair (surprisingly, a turn on), Don slipped his hand between Charlie’s legs and found the entrance to his body. He circled the hole with his thumb to Charlie’s gasping approval, then pressed in with the tip of one finger.
Charlie arched up, driving his cock into Don’s throat. Eyes watering, Don pinned Charlie’s hips to the bed with one hand, then worked his finger the rest of the way into Charlie’s ass. Charlie struggled against Don’s hand, trying to work himself on Don’s finger.
Finally Charlie ceased his efforts to direct Don’s attentions, and tried another tack. He gasped, “I have lube.”
Don moaned around Charlie’s cock, and Charlie made a sound of satisfaction. In retaliation, Don made Charlie get the lube while Don found his prostate and stroked it.
When Charlie finally handed the lube back to Don over his shoulder, Don set it aside. Charlie had been wiggling his ass as he tried to crawl across the mattress to his night stand, and Don couldn’t resist tasting him there.
He withdrew his finger, ignoring Charlie’s whine of protest, and lowered his head until he could lick around Charlie’s hole. It was Don’s turn to make a sound of satisfaction as Charlie moaned and lifted his ass in silent invitation (demand, really) for more. Don licked into Charlie’s ass until Charlie clawed at the sheets and humped the mattress, made noises deep in his throat and chanted Don’s name like a benediction.
Don reached for the lube. He squirted more than he probably needed on his fingers and pressed two of them into Charlie’s hole, already slicked and loosened from Don’s tongue. Charlie never stopped whimpering and moaning. Don found that he quite liked being the reason Charlie went nonverbal.
When he felt that Charlie had been properly prepared, Don withdrew his fingers and wiped the remaining lube onto his cock. Don grabbed Charlie’s hips and raised his ass until Charlie got his knees under him. One hand gripping Charlie’s hip, Don guided the head of his cock to Charlie’s stretched hole, all shiny with lube, and pushed until the head popped inside.
Charlie, impatient as always, got his arms under him and drove himself back onto Don’s cock. Don shuddered as Charlie trembled around him.
“Damn it, Charlie,” Don swore as he gripped Charlie’s hips so he couldn’t move. He pulled out of Charlie, then pushed back in. He did it again, and again, mesmerized by the sight of his cock stretching Charlie’s ass, until Charlie whimpered and said, “Don, please, fuck me!”
It was more than anyone would be able to take, Don assured himself. Charlie’s tight hole, his head hanging down in mock surrender, the hair at the nape of his neck damp with sweat, the muscles in his legs trembling as he struggled against Don’s hold and tried to force Don to move faster.
Don tightened his grip on Charlie’s hips, leaving finger sized bruises on the tender skin, and thrust into Charlie’s ass, going as deep as he could, as hard and as fast as he could. Sweating and gasping for air, Don pulled out and flipped Charlie onto his back once more. He pushed Charlie’s legs back and drove into him.
Charlie whimpered and reached for Don, pulled him down until their lips met. They were too breathless to hold the kiss for long, and they ended up panting against each other’s cheek as they drew closer to release.
Charlie’s raspy breath hitched with every slide of his cock against Don’s stomach, until Charlie moaned, and his back arched as he spilled between them.
Don nearly screamed as Charlie’s ass squeezed him, as warm fluid spread across his stomach. He slammed into Charlie, desperate for his own release as the pressure built in his balls. Pleasure spread through his body, and then his toes curled and his mouth fell open in a silent cry as he finally emptied himself into Charlie’s body.
Don couldn’t hold himself up, but he managed to fall to the side so he wouldn’t squash Charlie. Charlie clung to Don as they recovered, and Don found that he didn’t even mind the come drying on his belly, sticking them together.
Charlie dragged his lips across Don’s skin, mumbled, “Don.”
Don stroked Charlie’s back and said, “It’s all right, Charlie.”
“Promise?”
“I promise, buddy, I promise,” Don said, and hoped it wasn’t a lie.
The End
no subject
Date: 2009-06-20 09:37 pm (UTC)Charlie broke the kiss and licked a trail of fire down Don’s throat.
GUH.
no subject
Date: 2009-06-20 11:20 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-20 11:24 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-21 09:37 am (UTC)This was my "guh!" moment:
Don got his hand in Charlie’s curls and yanked.
Charlie mewled in protest as his lips were torn away from Don’s neck, and then he went limp, head falling back and exposing his throat, looking at Don through eyes half closed, panting through wet, swollen lips. Charlie darted his tongue out to lick said lips, and then said, “Please.”
Guh!
^^
no subject
Date: 2009-06-22 12:40 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-21 05:47 pm (UTC)Dear Lord!!!
Wonderfully hot and needy and tender and just GUH!!!!
no subject
Date: 2009-06-22 12:43 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-24 09:56 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-25 07:50 pm (UTC)