Long, Hard, Odds
Title: Long, Hard, Odds
Author: ladygray99
Rating: NC 17
Prompt: #465 Pulse, #463 Mirror, #464 Mask
Characters/Pairings: David/Charlie
Word count: 3x300
Warnings/Spoilers: none
Summary: It's been far too long since Charlie's picked some guy up in a club.
Notes: Written for numb3rs100. So I've wanted to write the idea that David and Charlie hook up before they officially meet forever. Finally happened.
Beta: none
Long, Hard, Odds
No Words Needed (#465 Pulse)
The bass of the music was like a heartbeat and the lights pulsed in time. It was impossible to hear, almost impossible to see. Charlie didn't care. It was the first time he'd been out since his mom died. The club was an old haunt, one his dad didn't know about and Don certainly didn't. His mom might have known. She knew everything.
A man was dancing close, his shirt looking dark green in the colored lights. He was large, African America, bald but with a baby face. He dance up to Charlie and pressed his body close. Charlie let him. This is what he came for; big, strong, anonymous. He had a type. It got him in trouble a few times but not often enough to put him off.
Charlie ground against the other man before tipping his head towards one of the dark corners. The man nodded and followed. In the shadows Charlie could see handjobs, blowjobs, and a couple of guys who were probably fucking.
They found an unoccupied corner only sparsely lit by the pulsing lights. There was some sign language and shouting in ears. Charlie pulled out a condom. Blowjobs weren't the same through latex but he was considerate and something is better than nothing.
He nearly screamed, not that anyone would hear. It had been too long since he'd had a mouth on his cock. The strong hands gripping his thighs were almost as good. And whoever this guy was he knew how to suck cock. Charlie tried to hold back, calm his breathing, but there was a flutter of tongue under the head and a strong knuckle behind his balls.
When Charlie caught his breath he shouted in the man's ear. "I've got a room a block down if you want to fuck."
Direct Desires (#463 Mirror)
The room the guy had gotten was some wannbe, Vegas, 50 bucks a night joint. It seemed clean enough. Or at least not contagious. There was a mirror on the ceiling.
"Charlie," the cute guy said. He looked older outside the club lights but still had that sexy cute thing going.
"David."
There wasn't a need for last names. Besides, he didn't plan on staying in LA long. A year, tops, before heading back to New York or DC if he was lucky.
David looked up at the mirror over the bed.
"Tacky, I know. But I wouldn't mind being able to watch your ass while you fuck me.
David blinked a few times. "Well that's direct.
Charlie shrugged. "I don't get our often and it's been way too long."
David's dick approved. It had been far too long for him as well. "Okay." Charlie pulled off the white shirt that had made him stand out in the sea of iridescent black. He had a solid mass of hair in contrast to David's bare chest.
Charlie stepped forward going right for the buttons on David's jeans. David kissed Charlie's neck. "You smell like chalk."
"Hazard of the job."
David wondered if he was about to fuck a middle school English teacher or something. When Charlie's hands slid around his dick he really didn't care. He peeled off his own shirt and shoved down Charlie's pants pushing them towards the bed.
The mattress springs squeaked and there was a heavy smell of cheap industrial soap.
Charlie's hands and lips and teeth seemed to be everywhere at once. "You better find a condom and some lube fast," David growled into Charlie's ear before biting the lobe. Charlie scrambled for his pants.
David fucked hard and without finesse. Charlie didn't seem to care.
What Are The Fucking Odds (#464 Mask)
David didn't notice him at first as he popped his head into the meeting room to tell Eppes they got a lead. He chalked it up to not recognizing people out of context. As an FBI agent he really should have done better.
"Sinclair, this is my brother Charlie. He's got some idea's we’re trying."
Charlie held out his hand. "Doctor Charles Eppes, Applied Mathematics, CalSci."
That explained the chalk. "David Sinclair, nice to meet you." Only the knowledge that he'd fucked the boss' little brother three times only two weeks earlier kept his dick from pushing right through his trousers. Charlie smiled. His shoulders were hunched a little and he managed to look shy and innocent.
Only the slight lingering of the handshake let him know that this was the same guy he'd spent a night of raw lust with.
'What an actor. And what are the fucking odds?'
~
Charlie tried to calculate the odds but the numbers got too big for even him to handle. David, Agent Sinclair managed a mask of non-recognition, except for a slight bulging in the groin region.
Charlie had caught a whiff of gun oil that night, a scent he'd only recently become familiar with, but the thought that man thrusting into him might be law enforcement had vanished quickly as he'd tilted his hips just so.
Charlie never regretted not getting the numbers of his partners until two weeks earlier when he'd woken up aching, covered in finger bruises, and feeling absolutely great.
He put on his most innocent face, not that Don would ever expect his extracurricular activities, but it never hurt to be cautious. He did let the handshake linger just a hair longer than necessary. He now knew David's last name and would have no trouble getting his number.
Author: ladygray99
Rating: NC 17
Prompt: #465 Pulse, #463 Mirror, #464 Mask
Characters/Pairings: David/Charlie
Word count: 3x300
Warnings/Spoilers: none
Summary: It's been far too long since Charlie's picked some guy up in a club.
Notes: Written for numb3rs100. So I've wanted to write the idea that David and Charlie hook up before they officially meet forever. Finally happened.
Beta: none
Long, Hard, Odds
No Words Needed (#465 Pulse)
The bass of the music was like a heartbeat and the lights pulsed in time. It was impossible to hear, almost impossible to see. Charlie didn't care. It was the first time he'd been out since his mom died. The club was an old haunt, one his dad didn't know about and Don certainly didn't. His mom might have known. She knew everything.
A man was dancing close, his shirt looking dark green in the colored lights. He was large, African America, bald but with a baby face. He dance up to Charlie and pressed his body close. Charlie let him. This is what he came for; big, strong, anonymous. He had a type. It got him in trouble a few times but not often enough to put him off.
Charlie ground against the other man before tipping his head towards one of the dark corners. The man nodded and followed. In the shadows Charlie could see handjobs, blowjobs, and a couple of guys who were probably fucking.
They found an unoccupied corner only sparsely lit by the pulsing lights. There was some sign language and shouting in ears. Charlie pulled out a condom. Blowjobs weren't the same through latex but he was considerate and something is better than nothing.
He nearly screamed, not that anyone would hear. It had been too long since he'd had a mouth on his cock. The strong hands gripping his thighs were almost as good. And whoever this guy was he knew how to suck cock. Charlie tried to hold back, calm his breathing, but there was a flutter of tongue under the head and a strong knuckle behind his balls.
When Charlie caught his breath he shouted in the man's ear. "I've got a room a block down if you want to fuck."
Direct Desires (#463 Mirror)
The room the guy had gotten was some wannbe, Vegas, 50 bucks a night joint. It seemed clean enough. Or at least not contagious. There was a mirror on the ceiling.
"Charlie," the cute guy said. He looked older outside the club lights but still had that sexy cute thing going.
"David."
There wasn't a need for last names. Besides, he didn't plan on staying in LA long. A year, tops, before heading back to New York or DC if he was lucky.
David looked up at the mirror over the bed.
"Tacky, I know. But I wouldn't mind being able to watch your ass while you fuck me.
David blinked a few times. "Well that's direct.
Charlie shrugged. "I don't get our often and it's been way too long."
David's dick approved. It had been far too long for him as well. "Okay." Charlie pulled off the white shirt that had made him stand out in the sea of iridescent black. He had a solid mass of hair in contrast to David's bare chest.
Charlie stepped forward going right for the buttons on David's jeans. David kissed Charlie's neck. "You smell like chalk."
"Hazard of the job."
David wondered if he was about to fuck a middle school English teacher or something. When Charlie's hands slid around his dick he really didn't care. He peeled off his own shirt and shoved down Charlie's pants pushing them towards the bed.
The mattress springs squeaked and there was a heavy smell of cheap industrial soap.
Charlie's hands and lips and teeth seemed to be everywhere at once. "You better find a condom and some lube fast," David growled into Charlie's ear before biting the lobe. Charlie scrambled for his pants.
David fucked hard and without finesse. Charlie didn't seem to care.
What Are The Fucking Odds (#464 Mask)
David didn't notice him at first as he popped his head into the meeting room to tell Eppes they got a lead. He chalked it up to not recognizing people out of context. As an FBI agent he really should have done better.
"Sinclair, this is my brother Charlie. He's got some idea's we’re trying."
Charlie held out his hand. "Doctor Charles Eppes, Applied Mathematics, CalSci."
That explained the chalk. "David Sinclair, nice to meet you." Only the knowledge that he'd fucked the boss' little brother three times only two weeks earlier kept his dick from pushing right through his trousers. Charlie smiled. His shoulders were hunched a little and he managed to look shy and innocent.
Only the slight lingering of the handshake let him know that this was the same guy he'd spent a night of raw lust with.
'What an actor. And what are the fucking odds?'
~
Charlie tried to calculate the odds but the numbers got too big for even him to handle. David, Agent Sinclair managed a mask of non-recognition, except for a slight bulging in the groin region.
Charlie had caught a whiff of gun oil that night, a scent he'd only recently become familiar with, but the thought that man thrusting into him might be law enforcement had vanished quickly as he'd tilted his hips just so.
Charlie never regretted not getting the numbers of his partners until two weeks earlier when he'd woken up aching, covered in finger bruises, and feeling absolutely great.
He put on his most innocent face, not that Don would ever expect his extracurricular activities, but it never hurt to be cautious. He did let the handshake linger just a hair longer than necessary. He now knew David's last name and would have no trouble getting his number.