New Numb3rs fic - Don/Charlie
Oct. 30th, 2006 05:18 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
castalieDude, you know you're sick when you feel too sick to even log on LJ to whine about how sick you are. Felt a tad better today but it was another time when I wish I could have stayed home because, man, a tad better still meant I felt like crap.
I'll probaby talk about the gazillion episodes of my gazillion shows that I watched when I wasn't sleeping the sleep of the very sick but that'll come later. Or not, who knows? Right now, I come bearing a new fic. Of the Don/Charlie persuasion this time.
Title: I Never Walk Alone
Pairing: Don/Charlie, meaning incest.
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 4000+
Spoilers: Quick mentions of some stuff from s3.
Story Notes: Written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
admiralandrea after the prompt Don/Charlie and 'sex in the garage'. So. I was planning on doing a pure and shameless little PWP and then the muse decided to do things a bit differently. But there is sex in the garage, it just doesn't happen immediately, is all - the boys needed to talk about some stuff first :-)
Thanks go toyami_tai and starwatcher307 for their precious help!
Don looked at his watch. Almost midnight. He'd been waiting in the garage for almost two hours now, and still no sign of Charlie. He ran a hand through his hair and leaned back on the couch, closing his eyes for a second, sighing loudly. Frustrated and not a little tired, he wanted nothing more than go to his apartment and rest but, first, he needed to speak with Charlie so that they could put their argument behind them.
Before, he would have just gone home and come back in the morning to talk to Charlie. Their relationship had always been far from simple but at least some things had been... less complicated. Now, the situation was different; his needs were different, and he just didn't feel like leaving all those things unsaid between them. He wasn't necessarily ready to talk, but he wanted them to make their peace with each other, at the very least.
They'd been at each other's throats for the better part of the last few days, and it had to stop. If Charlie had been one of his agents, Don would have nipped the problem in the bud... as it was, he'd let things escalate, let his own anger grow and, of course, he'd ended up lashing out at Charlie - because, sometimes, it was just too easy. He didn't like that side of him, but had come to accept it was part of his personality; it was just something he'd inherited from his childhood interactions with his brother.
Admittedly, Charlie had given as much as he'd taken but, no matter how strong Charlie could be, Don was still stronger. When Don became angry, his brother frequently just... deflated. As if he couldn't understand why Don would be so angry at him, as if he didn't understand why anyone would feel that way toward him. It wasn't stupidity, and it wasn't naïveté; it was just... Charlie.
So now Don found himself in the garage at midnight, waiting for Charlie's return. Don had been so sure he'd find him there. Come to think of it, maybe that's why Charlie had left. Maybe he'd wanted some time alone and, knowing Don, Charlie would have been certain that his brother would come looking for him in his sanctuary.
Don hoped it wouldn't take much longer before his brother finally came home. He stretched his legs and shifted in his seat, trying to get comfortable, to no avail; the old couch that sat in the garage didn't want to cooperate. It was no surprise, really; it had never been a comfortable couch. It was one of those pieces of furniture that stayed in a house because of some kind of sentimental value. Such dinosaurs were old, ugly, and uncomfortable, but they remained long past their usefulness because no one had the heart to throw them away.
Truth be told, the garage was full of stuff like that - but, when you thought about it, wasn't that one of the purposes of a garage? It was cluttered, dusty, untidy. It smelled of chalk and dust and of odds and ends from the past. But it was also filled with Charlie in every little corner, from the blackboards leaning against - and sometimes hanging from - the walls, to the million of files and papers and books scattered all around, on the tables, the shelves, and sometimes piled on the floor.
Charlie's aura permeated the legal pads and notebooks that seemed to always find their way to the couch, taking so much room. His essence radiated from the equations that filled the blackboards, from the pieces of chalk that were found in the most insane places, from the pieces of origami that sometimes appeared here and there, from the odd instruments that Charlie had resumed working on not so long ago.
Bits of Charlie were everywhere, and maybe, just maybe, Don loved that room as much as Charlie did. He certainly found himself in it a lot more often than he used to. Charlie had never really commented on that new development but, from the small smile that tugged at his lips each time he entered the room to find Don waiting for him, it definitely pleased him.
As the sound of the door opening warned him that Charlie had come back, Don hoped tonight wouldn't be the exception to the rule. He wasn't ready for a new argument. Still leaning against the back of the couch, arms stretched on each side of him, he looked up as Charlie entered the room slowly, as if unsure of the welcome he was going to receive. Then, as if he'd decided that he wasn't going to let himself be intimidated, not in his own house, not in this room, he straightened his shoulders a little and glared at Don.
Don didn't say anything, just tried to show his brother that he wasn't looking for another fight. "Hey," he said after a while. He leaned forward, his arms resting on his thighs, waiting.
Charlie tilted his head to the side and an elegant finger found its way to an ear, rubbing the lobe softly. "Hey."
"I've been waiting for you, buddy."
"Yeah. I wasn't here, sorry."
Don was quite often irritated when Charlie chose to state the obvious as a way of distancing himself from the conversation but sometimes, like now, it just amused him. "I figured that out all by myself, thanks, Chuck."
Charlie frowned a little at the nickname but Don could see him relaxing more. He was happy to see that Charlie had gotten the message loud and clear: that Don was extending an olive branch. Charlie stepped toward Don but didn't sit next to him. Instead, he pushed aside a stack of papers piled on the desk close to the couch and, having made room for himself, he hopped up and sat Indian-style on the flat surface, facing Don.
"Want to tell me where you were?"
Charlie's look told Don he was debating doing just that. But apparently he decided it wasn't worth making a big deal out of it. "I was with Larry."
Don raised an eyebrow. "I thought he was still, how did he put it? 'Voluntarily without an address'?"
Charlie smiled at that. "I said I was with Larry, not at Larry's. He's still between two apartments at the moment. We were just having coffee."
"Okay."
The silence stretched between them and Don wasn't sure how to breach it. But it was Charlie who took the first step.
"Were you waiting for me to yell some more?"
Don rolled his eyes at that. "I'd hardly wait two hours to do that when I'd rather be in bed, Charlie."
His brother conceded the point. "So why are you here? I'm not going to apologize."
Don couldn't help but chuckle a bit at that. "As if you ever do," he said, shaking his head. "If it makes you feel better I'm not gonna apologize either, man."
Okay, they'd apparently reached a stalemate. Don hoped it would be enough for his brother. But of course that would be too easy.
"I'm just - I think I'm tired of being treated like a kid by everyone." Charlie stayed silent for a moment, fingers at his lips, before he added, not really looking at Don, "And maybe I'm tired of being treated like a kid by my lover."
As usual when Charlie said something like that, Don was almost taken aback by how easily Charlie seemed to think of him that way - and not only that, but the easy way he said the words out loud. For all his inadequacies in a lot of subjects that touched people, Charlie could be quite surprising sometimes. He surprised Don on a regular basis concerning this, as if their whole relationship was just as simple as one of his beloved equations.
"I wasn't treating you like a kid, Charlie. I was treating you like a civilian working for me. There are things I won't ever allow you to do. Period."
"I just never know with you," Charlie said, shrugging one shoulder.
"What is there to know, anyway?" Don had to stop himself from snapping the words. He stood up. "Look, sometimes no means no. I don't do it to spite you. I just do my job, okay?"
"And I was doing mine, Don. You could... you could at least respect that."
"Charlie!" Don snapped, unable to stop himself this time. "I did respect that. I do respect your work and the time you take off your own job to help us, but sometimes you're just too..." he didn't finish the sentence. He wasn't sure what he was going to say, but he knew that it was only going to make things worse. Besides, he wasn't certain it would help make his point.
Of course Charlie wouldn't leave it like that. "I'm just too what? Too what, Don?" And Don hated the flash of hurt he could see in his brother's eyes. He much preferred seeing anger; it was easier to deal with.
"Too passionate, too eager, okay? You're just too much into it and too eager to please me and sometimes I'm afraid it's gonna lead you to places I don't want you to see in. Ever. Cases like this..."
He couldn't finish that sentence either; it would be impossible to explain. Cases like this made you doubt humanity a little more each time, cases like this always pushed Don a little further into the dark places inside his head. There was no way he wanted his brother to be part of that world. There was a line he was trying not to cross with Charlie, but the help he was giving them, with his involvement in all those cases... sometimes Don feared they'd go too far, that he would go too far.
Hurt gave place to confusion in Charlie's eyes. "I don't understand."
"Look. I just, I worry for you, okay? Can you understand that, at least?"
And now anger replaced Charlie's confusion. Don sometimes wondered whether his brother truly was that easy to read, or if he was just that well versed in Charlie-speak.
"I can, yes." Charlie almost spat the words. "I don't understand you, though. You're always..." he stopped and looked away, maybe trying to find the best way to express himself. "When Dad was worried about me being in the field all those times, you told him to stop worrying, that I didn't need to be coddled. And when - when Dad decided not to move out and we got into those arguments about my way of running the house and my way of, you know, running my life? You told him I was an adult and that he had to let me run things my way. You said all those things, Don, didn't you?"
"Yeah, I did," Don replied, almost reluctantly. "How do you know that, anyway?"
Charlie gave him a look that was supposed to say something along the lines of 'I'm a math genius, I just put two and two together', but Don wasn't fooled. He sighed. "Dad has a big mouth. He told you, right?"
Charlie deflated a little and shrugged again. "Yeah. I think he worries sometimes about us. About our relationship. I guess he just - I guess he wanted to make sure I knew you trusted me."
"And I do," Don said with conviction. Because he did, always. He stepped toward Charlie but stopped in front of the desk, in front of his brother. He caressed Charlie's face with his fingers. "I told you, I didn't wait for you to have another fight."
"Why did you wait for me, then?" Charlie asked, his words so soft Don almost didn't hear them.
And there were so many things Don could say. I needed you to tell me you've forgiven me, or I needed you to push all the darkness away, or maybe I needed you to touch me and help me keep my sanity. Despite those truths, there really was only one answer he could give Charlie. "I just wanted to make sure we're okay."
Charlie didn't answer immediately, just looked at Don with an intensity that often took his breath away. Don had to face the fact that maybe Charlie wasn't the only one who was easily read, but Charlie let him get away with his lie of omission; he just shook his head a little and pulled his legs from under him. Still sitting on the desk, Charlie spread his legs and tugged at his brother until he had Don standing between them. He raised a hand and rested it on his brother's chest, heavy and warm. Comforting, confident. With his fingers, he started a soothing motion.
"It's okay, we're okay."
Charlie raised his head a little and tilted it up in a blatant invitation to be kissed, and Don didn't hesitate. He cradled Charlie's head with his hands before burying his fingers in the short curls and held on tight. "Charlie," was the only thing he could say. It was just a whisper, but it felt deafening to him. He hoped Charlie would get it.
"Shh, Don, it's okay." Charlie's legs tightened around his brother's waist and he pulled him even closer against his own body. He could feel Don's heat over his own, could feel Don start to harden already. He moaned a little as Don's tongue danced over his lips and then he opened his mouth to taste his brother properly. They sometimes liked to battle for dominance, play with each other to see who would lead the kiss, but this time he let Don run the show. Charlie's hands slid to Don's hair and he growled when he obviously remembered there was nothing to grab anymore. Don smiled against his brother's lips.
Don pulled away a little, plastering tiny kisses over Charlie's cheek, his temple, his ear. "I know, buddy, it'll grow back, promise. But hey," he wrapped his fingers around one of Charlie's wrists, "there's more interesting things to play with, don't you think?" He brought Charlie's hand to his cock before kissing him again, all opened mouth and dancing tongue, lingering wet kisses that could last long into the night.
Charlie nodded heartily and pressed his hand more firmly against the growing bulge between Don's legs. His agile fingers were molding to the hard cock, caressing the outline, squeezing softly. Don's pants were loose enough that it allowed him to slide his hand inside, and he didn't hesitate to dive in. Don groaned at the contact, and Charlie smiled in triumph. At the same time, he was offering all of himself to Don, letting him hold his head in a tight grip, letting him lead their kiss, showing him that they were good, that they were always good together, no matter what.
Don could guess what Charlie was thinking at this moment. Charlie loved kissing him, loved making love with him, loved the taste of him, the smell of him. He loved listening to the sounds that he could coax from Don. He never failed to let Don know how much pleasure he took in giving pleasure.
Don had learned that Charlie always felt powerful when they had sex together - because he could make Don whimper from pleasure, make him shiver, make him come, because he could make Don forget about everything else but them. And Don couldn't deny any of that; Charlie was the one who could drive him crazy with his tongue, with his hands, with his cock, who knew how to play him like a precious instrument...
Charlie's hand inside his pants was driving Don mad but, after tasting Charlie's mouth, he wanted something more. He changed tactics and grabbed his brother's wrist again, smiling at Charlie's little sound of protest, and he placed the clever hand on the desk. He also unwrapped Charlie's legs from around his waist, patting his thigh as if to tell him not to move. Charlie got the idea and kept both his hands on either side of him, obedient and eager to see where this was going.
He didn't have to wait long. Feverishly, Don opened Charlie's shirt, baring his brother's skin. He bent forward and started nibbling his way from Charlie's lips to his neck to the broad shoulders. He licked and nibbled the warm, sweaty skin and shivered at the delectable flavor. He eagerly mapped every inch of Charlie's neck and shoulder, concentrating on the hollow of his throat. He swore he could feel Charlie's accelerating heartbeat, and it made his own beat even harder.
He bit here and licked there, driving Charlie crazy with each touch. But Don wanted more. In a swift movement, he unbuckled Charlie's belt then unzipped the pants. "Lift up," he ordered. Charlie complied, lying back on his elbows for a second and lifting his hips so that Don could do what he wanted. Then he sat up as Don wanted him, watching while Don pulled his pants and briefs down and out of the way, freeing his cock. Charlie moaned when Don curved his hand around his erection, squeezing and caressing, sliding his hand up and down the hard cock in a slow movement. Charlie wanted nothing more than to fuck his brother's hand, but he knew Don wasn't finished.
"I'm gonna give you what you want, Charlie." Roughly, he pulled his brother up to standing, the back of his thighs pressed against the desk. Charlie's hand had instinctively grabbed Don's shoulders at the sudden move and he was blinking as if trying to understand what was happening. His confusion didn't last long, as Don dropped to his knees, fingers digging into Charlie's hips.
"Please, Don," Charlie begged softly, needlessly.
Don loved listening to Charlie beg, but he had no intention of extending the torture tonight. He lapped at the head in front of him, his hands digging deeper into Charlie's skin as he bucked against him. Don slid his tongue up and down the hard flesh and then, when Charlie's whimpers were becoming more desperate, he reached a hand to the base of Charlie's cock, his grip firm, and took Charlie in his mouth.
He growled deep in his throat at the taste and smell of his brother. Charlie's cock grew in his mouth and he closed his eyes at the exquisite sensation, but he didn't keep them closed too long; he wanted to watch Charlie's reactions. He looked up and groaned again at the sight of his brother. Charlie was desperately gripping the edge of the desk, knuckles almost white as he struggled to keep them in place instead of grabbing the back of Don's head as he wanted. Charlie's own head was thrown back, his long neck bared and begging to be bitten. He was biting his lips as if trying not to cry too loudly but, as Don sucked harder, Charlie couldn't restrain himself; he moaned and whimpered, calling Don's name.
Don could feel Charlie's hips thrusting softly and he marveled at his brother's restraint. He didn't try to take control, didn't try to make Don accelerate the pace, didn't move from his position. Don hardened at the thought of Charlie being so willing to obey his orders when they had sex. He loved the way Charlie always submitted to his needs, was always eager to give in. As a reward, he took the long cock deeper in his throat and rolled Charlie's balls in his hand before teasing Charlie's opening.
"God, Don!"
From the tremors he could feel running through his brother's body, the heat that seemed to only increase and the come he could already taste in his mouth, Don knew Charlie wasn't far from the edge. He let his brother's erection slide out from his mouth, but didn't leave Charlie the time to protest too much at the loss of the wet heat; he grabbed Charlie's hips and manhandled him onto the desk, pushed him back so that Charlie was lying against the hard surface.
Some papers and pens fell to the floor, but they never noticed. Don finally freed his own cock from its denim prison, pushing the pants down below his ass, and he leaned forward, pulling Charlie into a passionate kiss. Charlie's hands gripped his head firmly as he returned the kiss, hard and fast, almost sloppily. Don had already started thrusting against Charlie, the feeling of their heated skin against each other making him to want to just slam home.
He roughly grabbed took his brother's spread legs and put them around his hips again, accentuating the friction. Then he forced Charlie's hands above his head, pinning him to the desk. "Don't move, buddy, okay, we're almost done, promise." His voice sounded as if it came from far away and his breathing was harsh; talking was an extreme effort.
Charlie just nodded, breathing hard as an echo of his brother's. His face was flushed, eyes black with desire. Don couldn't resist the sight and he covered the tempting mouth once more; he just couldn't get enough of Charlie. He slid his tongue inside, savoring the taste of his lover. Charlie moaned into the kiss and arched up against Don, shivering as his cock found the friction it was craving.
"Don, Don!"
"I've got you, Charlie. Don't move your hands, you can moan and you can squirm but you can't move your hands until I say so, you hear?"
Charlie didn't answer, he just whimpered and watched Don through his eyelashes, biting his lips. "Please, please, Don."
"God, Charlie, you're killing me," Don rasped. He had to come, now. "Let's go for a ride, buddy."
He thrust hard against Charlie, grinding and humping. Charlie gave as good as he got, and it was erratic and crazy and messy and noisy and they didn't care. They only had eyes for each other, only existed for the other; the rest of the world could just crumble and they wouldn't care, maybe wouldn't even notice. This was about need and desire and want and the feeling that if they didn't come now, they might just go mad.
Don had one hand around one of Charlie's thighs, fingers leaving bruises on the sweat-slicked skin. The other was in Charlie's hair before it crept to Charlie's hands and his fingers twined with his brother's, gripping hard as if he never intended to let go. He was whispering erotic nonsense into Charlie's ears, words that only belonged to the dark, ideas that never left the secrecy of these walls and it was okay, it was enough. He thrust harder against Charlie, raising his face so that he could watch him. He smiled predatorily at the look on his brother's face. Don knew where Charlie was at the moment; in a place where only Don existed, only Don and his hands, his mouth, his cock, his heat, his smell. Don reveled in it, wanted to be everything to Charlie in those precious little moments when they were one. Because in that place, things were safe and easy and good, so good.
"Fuck, Charlie!" He felt a shiver of need coiling inside him and knew he couldn't delay his orgasm any longer. His thrusts became stronger and more erratic for a moment before he finally gave in, falling over the edge, coming all over the two of them. It felt as if he would never stop falling as tremors ran down his spine, inside his veins and made him fly. He only came back when he heard Charlie screaming his name; he watched his brother as Charlie's own orgasm swept over him.
Don slumped against Charlie's body, heavy and spent, sticky. Sated. His chest rose and fell in time with Charlie's, as if they'd run a marathon. Charlie's hands crept under his shirt and soothingly caressed his sweat-slicked back. Don smiled, feeling relaxed and mellow. He raised his head and bestowed the inviting lips with a slow, lazy kiss, nuzzled the flushed cheek, letting himself slowly come from down from the high.
"See, Don? We're okay, trust me?" Charlie asked in a low voice.
"We're okay, yeah. And I do." Because he did. Trusted and loved Charlie. Always. Forever.
Fin
I'll probaby talk about the gazillion episodes of my gazillion shows that I watched when I wasn't sleeping the sleep of the very sick but that'll come later. Or not, who knows? Right now, I come bearing a new fic. Of the Don/Charlie persuasion this time.
Title: I Never Walk Alone
Pairing: Don/Charlie, meaning incest.
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 4000+
Spoilers: Quick mentions of some stuff from s3.
Story Notes: Written for
admiralandrea after the prompt Don/Charlie and 'sex in the garage'. So. I was planning on doing a pure and shameless little PWP and then the muse decided to do things a bit differently. But there is sex in the garage, it just doesn't happen immediately, is all - the boys needed to talk about some stuff first :-)Thanks go to
yami_tai and starwatcher307 for their precious help!Don looked at his watch. Almost midnight. He'd been waiting in the garage for almost two hours now, and still no sign of Charlie. He ran a hand through his hair and leaned back on the couch, closing his eyes for a second, sighing loudly. Frustrated and not a little tired, he wanted nothing more than go to his apartment and rest but, first, he needed to speak with Charlie so that they could put their argument behind them.
Before, he would have just gone home and come back in the morning to talk to Charlie. Their relationship had always been far from simple but at least some things had been... less complicated. Now, the situation was different; his needs were different, and he just didn't feel like leaving all those things unsaid between them. He wasn't necessarily ready to talk, but he wanted them to make their peace with each other, at the very least.
They'd been at each other's throats for the better part of the last few days, and it had to stop. If Charlie had been one of his agents, Don would have nipped the problem in the bud... as it was, he'd let things escalate, let his own anger grow and, of course, he'd ended up lashing out at Charlie - because, sometimes, it was just too easy. He didn't like that side of him, but had come to accept it was part of his personality; it was just something he'd inherited from his childhood interactions with his brother.
Admittedly, Charlie had given as much as he'd taken but, no matter how strong Charlie could be, Don was still stronger. When Don became angry, his brother frequently just... deflated. As if he couldn't understand why Don would be so angry at him, as if he didn't understand why anyone would feel that way toward him. It wasn't stupidity, and it wasn't naïveté; it was just... Charlie.
So now Don found himself in the garage at midnight, waiting for Charlie's return. Don had been so sure he'd find him there. Come to think of it, maybe that's why Charlie had left. Maybe he'd wanted some time alone and, knowing Don, Charlie would have been certain that his brother would come looking for him in his sanctuary.
Don hoped it wouldn't take much longer before his brother finally came home. He stretched his legs and shifted in his seat, trying to get comfortable, to no avail; the old couch that sat in the garage didn't want to cooperate. It was no surprise, really; it had never been a comfortable couch. It was one of those pieces of furniture that stayed in a house because of some kind of sentimental value. Such dinosaurs were old, ugly, and uncomfortable, but they remained long past their usefulness because no one had the heart to throw them away.
Truth be told, the garage was full of stuff like that - but, when you thought about it, wasn't that one of the purposes of a garage? It was cluttered, dusty, untidy. It smelled of chalk and dust and of odds and ends from the past. But it was also filled with Charlie in every little corner, from the blackboards leaning against - and sometimes hanging from - the walls, to the million of files and papers and books scattered all around, on the tables, the shelves, and sometimes piled on the floor.
Charlie's aura permeated the legal pads and notebooks that seemed to always find their way to the couch, taking so much room. His essence radiated from the equations that filled the blackboards, from the pieces of chalk that were found in the most insane places, from the pieces of origami that sometimes appeared here and there, from the odd instruments that Charlie had resumed working on not so long ago.
Bits of Charlie were everywhere, and maybe, just maybe, Don loved that room as much as Charlie did. He certainly found himself in it a lot more often than he used to. Charlie had never really commented on that new development but, from the small smile that tugged at his lips each time he entered the room to find Don waiting for him, it definitely pleased him.
As the sound of the door opening warned him that Charlie had come back, Don hoped tonight wouldn't be the exception to the rule. He wasn't ready for a new argument. Still leaning against the back of the couch, arms stretched on each side of him, he looked up as Charlie entered the room slowly, as if unsure of the welcome he was going to receive. Then, as if he'd decided that he wasn't going to let himself be intimidated, not in his own house, not in this room, he straightened his shoulders a little and glared at Don.
Don didn't say anything, just tried to show his brother that he wasn't looking for another fight. "Hey," he said after a while. He leaned forward, his arms resting on his thighs, waiting.
Charlie tilted his head to the side and an elegant finger found its way to an ear, rubbing the lobe softly. "Hey."
"I've been waiting for you, buddy."
"Yeah. I wasn't here, sorry."
Don was quite often irritated when Charlie chose to state the obvious as a way of distancing himself from the conversation but sometimes, like now, it just amused him. "I figured that out all by myself, thanks, Chuck."
Charlie frowned a little at the nickname but Don could see him relaxing more. He was happy to see that Charlie had gotten the message loud and clear: that Don was extending an olive branch. Charlie stepped toward Don but didn't sit next to him. Instead, he pushed aside a stack of papers piled on the desk close to the couch and, having made room for himself, he hopped up and sat Indian-style on the flat surface, facing Don.
"Want to tell me where you were?"
Charlie's look told Don he was debating doing just that. But apparently he decided it wasn't worth making a big deal out of it. "I was with Larry."
Don raised an eyebrow. "I thought he was still, how did he put it? 'Voluntarily without an address'?"
Charlie smiled at that. "I said I was with Larry, not at Larry's. He's still between two apartments at the moment. We were just having coffee."
"Okay."
The silence stretched between them and Don wasn't sure how to breach it. But it was Charlie who took the first step.
"Were you waiting for me to yell some more?"
Don rolled his eyes at that. "I'd hardly wait two hours to do that when I'd rather be in bed, Charlie."
His brother conceded the point. "So why are you here? I'm not going to apologize."
Don couldn't help but chuckle a bit at that. "As if you ever do," he said, shaking his head. "If it makes you feel better I'm not gonna apologize either, man."
Okay, they'd apparently reached a stalemate. Don hoped it would be enough for his brother. But of course that would be too easy.
"I'm just - I think I'm tired of being treated like a kid by everyone." Charlie stayed silent for a moment, fingers at his lips, before he added, not really looking at Don, "And maybe I'm tired of being treated like a kid by my lover."
As usual when Charlie said something like that, Don was almost taken aback by how easily Charlie seemed to think of him that way - and not only that, but the easy way he said the words out loud. For all his inadequacies in a lot of subjects that touched people, Charlie could be quite surprising sometimes. He surprised Don on a regular basis concerning this, as if their whole relationship was just as simple as one of his beloved equations.
"I wasn't treating you like a kid, Charlie. I was treating you like a civilian working for me. There are things I won't ever allow you to do. Period."
"I just never know with you," Charlie said, shrugging one shoulder.
"What is there to know, anyway?" Don had to stop himself from snapping the words. He stood up. "Look, sometimes no means no. I don't do it to spite you. I just do my job, okay?"
"And I was doing mine, Don. You could... you could at least respect that."
"Charlie!" Don snapped, unable to stop himself this time. "I did respect that. I do respect your work and the time you take off your own job to help us, but sometimes you're just too..." he didn't finish the sentence. He wasn't sure what he was going to say, but he knew that it was only going to make things worse. Besides, he wasn't certain it would help make his point.
Of course Charlie wouldn't leave it like that. "I'm just too what? Too what, Don?" And Don hated the flash of hurt he could see in his brother's eyes. He much preferred seeing anger; it was easier to deal with.
"Too passionate, too eager, okay? You're just too much into it and too eager to please me and sometimes I'm afraid it's gonna lead you to places I don't want you to see in. Ever. Cases like this..."
He couldn't finish that sentence either; it would be impossible to explain. Cases like this made you doubt humanity a little more each time, cases like this always pushed Don a little further into the dark places inside his head. There was no way he wanted his brother to be part of that world. There was a line he was trying not to cross with Charlie, but the help he was giving them, with his involvement in all those cases... sometimes Don feared they'd go too far, that he would go too far.
Hurt gave place to confusion in Charlie's eyes. "I don't understand."
"Look. I just, I worry for you, okay? Can you understand that, at least?"
And now anger replaced Charlie's confusion. Don sometimes wondered whether his brother truly was that easy to read, or if he was just that well versed in Charlie-speak.
"I can, yes." Charlie almost spat the words. "I don't understand you, though. You're always..." he stopped and looked away, maybe trying to find the best way to express himself. "When Dad was worried about me being in the field all those times, you told him to stop worrying, that I didn't need to be coddled. And when - when Dad decided not to move out and we got into those arguments about my way of running the house and my way of, you know, running my life? You told him I was an adult and that he had to let me run things my way. You said all those things, Don, didn't you?"
"Yeah, I did," Don replied, almost reluctantly. "How do you know that, anyway?"
Charlie gave him a look that was supposed to say something along the lines of 'I'm a math genius, I just put two and two together', but Don wasn't fooled. He sighed. "Dad has a big mouth. He told you, right?"
Charlie deflated a little and shrugged again. "Yeah. I think he worries sometimes about us. About our relationship. I guess he just - I guess he wanted to make sure I knew you trusted me."
"And I do," Don said with conviction. Because he did, always. He stepped toward Charlie but stopped in front of the desk, in front of his brother. He caressed Charlie's face with his fingers. "I told you, I didn't wait for you to have another fight."
"Why did you wait for me, then?" Charlie asked, his words so soft Don almost didn't hear them.
And there were so many things Don could say. I needed you to tell me you've forgiven me, or I needed you to push all the darkness away, or maybe I needed you to touch me and help me keep my sanity. Despite those truths, there really was only one answer he could give Charlie. "I just wanted to make sure we're okay."
Charlie didn't answer immediately, just looked at Don with an intensity that often took his breath away. Don had to face the fact that maybe Charlie wasn't the only one who was easily read, but Charlie let him get away with his lie of omission; he just shook his head a little and pulled his legs from under him. Still sitting on the desk, Charlie spread his legs and tugged at his brother until he had Don standing between them. He raised a hand and rested it on his brother's chest, heavy and warm. Comforting, confident. With his fingers, he started a soothing motion.
"It's okay, we're okay."
Charlie raised his head a little and tilted it up in a blatant invitation to be kissed, and Don didn't hesitate. He cradled Charlie's head with his hands before burying his fingers in the short curls and held on tight. "Charlie," was the only thing he could say. It was just a whisper, but it felt deafening to him. He hoped Charlie would get it.
"Shh, Don, it's okay." Charlie's legs tightened around his brother's waist and he pulled him even closer against his own body. He could feel Don's heat over his own, could feel Don start to harden already. He moaned a little as Don's tongue danced over his lips and then he opened his mouth to taste his brother properly. They sometimes liked to battle for dominance, play with each other to see who would lead the kiss, but this time he let Don run the show. Charlie's hands slid to Don's hair and he growled when he obviously remembered there was nothing to grab anymore. Don smiled against his brother's lips.
Don pulled away a little, plastering tiny kisses over Charlie's cheek, his temple, his ear. "I know, buddy, it'll grow back, promise. But hey," he wrapped his fingers around one of Charlie's wrists, "there's more interesting things to play with, don't you think?" He brought Charlie's hand to his cock before kissing him again, all opened mouth and dancing tongue, lingering wet kisses that could last long into the night.
Charlie nodded heartily and pressed his hand more firmly against the growing bulge between Don's legs. His agile fingers were molding to the hard cock, caressing the outline, squeezing softly. Don's pants were loose enough that it allowed him to slide his hand inside, and he didn't hesitate to dive in. Don groaned at the contact, and Charlie smiled in triumph. At the same time, he was offering all of himself to Don, letting him hold his head in a tight grip, letting him lead their kiss, showing him that they were good, that they were always good together, no matter what.
Don could guess what Charlie was thinking at this moment. Charlie loved kissing him, loved making love with him, loved the taste of him, the smell of him. He loved listening to the sounds that he could coax from Don. He never failed to let Don know how much pleasure he took in giving pleasure.
Don had learned that Charlie always felt powerful when they had sex together - because he could make Don whimper from pleasure, make him shiver, make him come, because he could make Don forget about everything else but them. And Don couldn't deny any of that; Charlie was the one who could drive him crazy with his tongue, with his hands, with his cock, who knew how to play him like a precious instrument...
Charlie's hand inside his pants was driving Don mad but, after tasting Charlie's mouth, he wanted something more. He changed tactics and grabbed his brother's wrist again, smiling at Charlie's little sound of protest, and he placed the clever hand on the desk. He also unwrapped Charlie's legs from around his waist, patting his thigh as if to tell him not to move. Charlie got the idea and kept both his hands on either side of him, obedient and eager to see where this was going.
He didn't have to wait long. Feverishly, Don opened Charlie's shirt, baring his brother's skin. He bent forward and started nibbling his way from Charlie's lips to his neck to the broad shoulders. He licked and nibbled the warm, sweaty skin and shivered at the delectable flavor. He eagerly mapped every inch of Charlie's neck and shoulder, concentrating on the hollow of his throat. He swore he could feel Charlie's accelerating heartbeat, and it made his own beat even harder.
He bit here and licked there, driving Charlie crazy with each touch. But Don wanted more. In a swift movement, he unbuckled Charlie's belt then unzipped the pants. "Lift up," he ordered. Charlie complied, lying back on his elbows for a second and lifting his hips so that Don could do what he wanted. Then he sat up as Don wanted him, watching while Don pulled his pants and briefs down and out of the way, freeing his cock. Charlie moaned when Don curved his hand around his erection, squeezing and caressing, sliding his hand up and down the hard cock in a slow movement. Charlie wanted nothing more than to fuck his brother's hand, but he knew Don wasn't finished.
"I'm gonna give you what you want, Charlie." Roughly, he pulled his brother up to standing, the back of his thighs pressed against the desk. Charlie's hand had instinctively grabbed Don's shoulders at the sudden move and he was blinking as if trying to understand what was happening. His confusion didn't last long, as Don dropped to his knees, fingers digging into Charlie's hips.
"Please, Don," Charlie begged softly, needlessly.
Don loved listening to Charlie beg, but he had no intention of extending the torture tonight. He lapped at the head in front of him, his hands digging deeper into Charlie's skin as he bucked against him. Don slid his tongue up and down the hard flesh and then, when Charlie's whimpers were becoming more desperate, he reached a hand to the base of Charlie's cock, his grip firm, and took Charlie in his mouth.
He growled deep in his throat at the taste and smell of his brother. Charlie's cock grew in his mouth and he closed his eyes at the exquisite sensation, but he didn't keep them closed too long; he wanted to watch Charlie's reactions. He looked up and groaned again at the sight of his brother. Charlie was desperately gripping the edge of the desk, knuckles almost white as he struggled to keep them in place instead of grabbing the back of Don's head as he wanted. Charlie's own head was thrown back, his long neck bared and begging to be bitten. He was biting his lips as if trying not to cry too loudly but, as Don sucked harder, Charlie couldn't restrain himself; he moaned and whimpered, calling Don's name.
Don could feel Charlie's hips thrusting softly and he marveled at his brother's restraint. He didn't try to take control, didn't try to make Don accelerate the pace, didn't move from his position. Don hardened at the thought of Charlie being so willing to obey his orders when they had sex. He loved the way Charlie always submitted to his needs, was always eager to give in. As a reward, he took the long cock deeper in his throat and rolled Charlie's balls in his hand before teasing Charlie's opening.
"God, Don!"
From the tremors he could feel running through his brother's body, the heat that seemed to only increase and the come he could already taste in his mouth, Don knew Charlie wasn't far from the edge. He let his brother's erection slide out from his mouth, but didn't leave Charlie the time to protest too much at the loss of the wet heat; he grabbed Charlie's hips and manhandled him onto the desk, pushed him back so that Charlie was lying against the hard surface.
Some papers and pens fell to the floor, but they never noticed. Don finally freed his own cock from its denim prison, pushing the pants down below his ass, and he leaned forward, pulling Charlie into a passionate kiss. Charlie's hands gripped his head firmly as he returned the kiss, hard and fast, almost sloppily. Don had already started thrusting against Charlie, the feeling of their heated skin against each other making him to want to just slam home.
He roughly grabbed took his brother's spread legs and put them around his hips again, accentuating the friction. Then he forced Charlie's hands above his head, pinning him to the desk. "Don't move, buddy, okay, we're almost done, promise." His voice sounded as if it came from far away and his breathing was harsh; talking was an extreme effort.
Charlie just nodded, breathing hard as an echo of his brother's. His face was flushed, eyes black with desire. Don couldn't resist the sight and he covered the tempting mouth once more; he just couldn't get enough of Charlie. He slid his tongue inside, savoring the taste of his lover. Charlie moaned into the kiss and arched up against Don, shivering as his cock found the friction it was craving.
"Don, Don!"
"I've got you, Charlie. Don't move your hands, you can moan and you can squirm but you can't move your hands until I say so, you hear?"
Charlie didn't answer, he just whimpered and watched Don through his eyelashes, biting his lips. "Please, please, Don."
"God, Charlie, you're killing me," Don rasped. He had to come, now. "Let's go for a ride, buddy."
He thrust hard against Charlie, grinding and humping. Charlie gave as good as he got, and it was erratic and crazy and messy and noisy and they didn't care. They only had eyes for each other, only existed for the other; the rest of the world could just crumble and they wouldn't care, maybe wouldn't even notice. This was about need and desire and want and the feeling that if they didn't come now, they might just go mad.
Don had one hand around one of Charlie's thighs, fingers leaving bruises on the sweat-slicked skin. The other was in Charlie's hair before it crept to Charlie's hands and his fingers twined with his brother's, gripping hard as if he never intended to let go. He was whispering erotic nonsense into Charlie's ears, words that only belonged to the dark, ideas that never left the secrecy of these walls and it was okay, it was enough. He thrust harder against Charlie, raising his face so that he could watch him. He smiled predatorily at the look on his brother's face. Don knew where Charlie was at the moment; in a place where only Don existed, only Don and his hands, his mouth, his cock, his heat, his smell. Don reveled in it, wanted to be everything to Charlie in those precious little moments when they were one. Because in that place, things were safe and easy and good, so good.
"Fuck, Charlie!" He felt a shiver of need coiling inside him and knew he couldn't delay his orgasm any longer. His thrusts became stronger and more erratic for a moment before he finally gave in, falling over the edge, coming all over the two of them. It felt as if he would never stop falling as tremors ran down his spine, inside his veins and made him fly. He only came back when he heard Charlie screaming his name; he watched his brother as Charlie's own orgasm swept over him.
Don slumped against Charlie's body, heavy and spent, sticky. Sated. His chest rose and fell in time with Charlie's, as if they'd run a marathon. Charlie's hands crept under his shirt and soothingly caressed his sweat-slicked back. Don smiled, feeling relaxed and mellow. He raised his head and bestowed the inviting lips with a slow, lazy kiss, nuzzled the flushed cheek, letting himself slowly come from down from the high.
"See, Don? We're okay, trust me?" Charlie asked in a low voice.
"We're okay, yeah. And I do." Because he did. Trusted and loved Charlie. Always. Forever.
Fin
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no subject
Date: 2006-10-30 06:11 pm (UTC)*is brain-fucked*
Do it again!!
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Date: 2006-11-01 06:07 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-10-30 06:51 pm (UTC)Hope you feel loads better soon, with fic like that, you deserve to!
:hugs and kisses:
no subject
Date: 2006-11-01 06:07 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-11-01 06:19 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-11-06 04:47 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-11-06 06:26 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-11-06 09:27 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-10-30 10:01 pm (UTC)*wibble* OMG, you killed a part of my brain. *takes five to regain normal breathing*
no subject
Date: 2006-11-01 06:09 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-10-30 11:19 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-11-01 06:10 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-10-31 04:58 am (UTC)SO YUMMY. I loved this so so much <3 <3
no subject
Date: 2006-11-01 06:10 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-11-02 04:21 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-11-06 04:43 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-11-03 09:31 am (UTC)After that, I'm not sure what happened. I think my brain melted and dribbled out my ears, washing down through a drain in the floor, never to be found.
OMG this was the epitome of hot. Uber-hot. There aren't words. I'm just making some up to try to describe the hotness since my brain's gone.
Wow.
no subject
Date: 2006-11-06 04:45 pm (UTC)Lol Wow, talk about a compliment; thanks *g*
I'm delighted you enjoyed the story... thanks for the lovely feedback!
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Date: 2008-08-11 06:51 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-08-16 10:08 am (UTC)