New Fic: Everything He Will Never (Numb3rs, Don/Charlie)
Everything He Will Never
By Fabella, NC-17, complete.
Numb3rs, Don/Charlie, incest.
Summary
The importance of functioning.
Disclaimer
There is no truth to my story. The characters are not mine.
Notes
For the contrelamontre challenge of disturbed sleep. I definitely went over the time limit writing it. Why can’t my ideas just flow from my head to the computer? Can anyone tell me that?
*
Everything He Will Never 1/1, by Fabella
A hand closed around Charlie’s shoulder, and instantly, he was springing up, his head spinning with everything he had to do.
“Shit,” he said, shoving the sweaty tangle of hair out of his face, trying to maneuver through the maze of blankets with his shaky limbs. “Shit, overslept, I have to-” A hand closed over his other shoulder, and two large palms pushed him back down in bed. “Let go. I almost forgot, I have calculations-”
“Shh. Dad’s not taking his sleeping pills anymore.”
Don’s dark shape loomed over him, wide shoulders, narrow waist, arms outstretched to hold him down. Clarity overcame Charlie with the cool hurt of an ice cube lodged suddenly in the throat. It was still the middle of the night. Outside, the normally active streets were quiet, only the occasional beam of headlights sliding across Charlie’s bedroom walls. Don must have shut the window on his way to wake him, because now a branch was tapping against the glass forlornly. Charlie let his head drop to the pillow.
“You okay?” he asked.
Don kneed his way onto the bed, the soft sounds of fabric against fabric until his heat came to rest inches above Charlie’s body, legs straddling Charlie’s hips. Faded cologne filled the space between them, the tired scent causing the back of Charlie’s throat to ache. Don leaned his head down until his mouth was hovering just over Charlie’s, breathing deeply. In. Out. Their used oxygen overlapped, caressed, and it was nearly a kiss. Their own secret way to touch.
Charlie’s toes began to curl as seconds ticked by and Don continued to hover over him, his presence pressing Charlie against the mattress, if not his weight. His body started pricking with sweat, the rhythm of his heart following a more urgent beat, skittering down into his belly to make him flush with sex.
Don’s face was strained this close. Even in the dark, Charlie could see the lines on it, the stress of aging too fast. And this-this was a bad night. Today, they’d seen another kid eaten up by her parents life, a little girl dead because she just happened to be hanging around at the wrong time. Neither of them had been able to help her.
When Don finally pulled his head back, Charlie’s breath went along with him, because then Don tipped his chin down to see the length of Charlie’s bare torso, and the heat of that black, shadowed gaze was crippling his lungs. Making no sound, Don put all his weight on one hand, using the other to push the blanket out of the way. His fingers traced the edge of Charlie’s boxers for an instant, fingertips grazing night-hot flesh, before they were stripped away as efficiently, Charlie lifting his ass from the bed to help.
With quick, tense movements, Don unbuckled his belt, his breathing becoming audible over the rich sound of his zipper being lowered. Charlie’s hands twitched at his sides, but stayed there as if tied when Don rocked above him, working his own pants and boxers down to his knees, before his heat was resting above Charlie again. Charlie closed his eyes for a second, then opened them and looked down to find Don grasping his own dick urgently, squeezing the base, his chest expanding in explosive bursts.
“Now you,” Don grated, but Charlie didn’t need the direction. His cock was throbbing, painfully aroused, and he was already reaching for it.
Together, they began to rub their own cocks. Their knuckles would brush, and a sharp pinch of pleasure in Charlie’s groin would make it that much better.
He had to get up in two hours, but it wasn’t like he hadn’t worked with less sleep than he’d get tonight, and they’d done this before, and survived. Their own special way of surviving. Sometimes, Don came to him at night, like he had this time. Sometimes he’d pull Charlie away from teaching, drive Charlie back to his apartment. Sometimes it would be behind a locked bathroom door, Don hissing instructions in Charlie’s ear as he stood with his chest brushing Charlie’s back, watching in the mirror as Charlie reached into his pants. Always the same, Don taking care of himself as he watched Charlie masturbate.
It wasn’t healthy, it wasn’t good, but they’d been doing it for a long time, and during the rest of the time, the other time when they were not doing this, it barely even existed. They functioned like brothers, and every now and then, stepped out of their lives, and became something else. Charlie sometimes thought of this as a gift, other times it was clearly a punishment. Because what they did together, what they didn’t do, would color Don’s words at the wrong moment, clouding their definitions, making his words entirely separate from themselves.
No, it wasn’t supposed to exist, and mostly didn’t, but being someone’s everything they wanted, and at the same time, everything they could never have, tended to creep into the off-time hours, when they were brothers, nothing else.
“Charlie,” Don was mouthing. Over and over again, as he pulled on his cock, lipping Charlie’s name. His body strained over Charlie’s, rocking back and forth and making hurt sounds as Charlie imitated his movements. Charlie felt out of place tonight, slow and thick, unable to keep up as Don sped the motions of his hands desperately, his eyes fixed on Charlie’s fumbling attempts to follow.
This isn’t working, Charlie thought. I saw that little girl, too.
Cautiously, Charlie reached up, sliding his fingers through the sweaty hair at Don’s temple, feeling the pulse throb under Don’s skin. There was a deep love in him, then, suffocated and gasping for air. Don blinked, his jaw twitching once. His hand froze, clenching down, and his eyes slowly lifted to meet Charlie’s. The fear in them caught Charlie by surprise, made his fingers smooth gently down Don’s cheek.
“It’ll be okay,” Charlie said.
That gaze shattered, and Don’s shadow fell over them both as he let go, hands digging through Charlie’s hair. His body weight dropped and anchored Charlie to the bed.
Their cocks touched for the first time, shaking Charlie, but there wasn’t any time to absorb the new pressure, because then Don was thrusting and grinding against him, his entire body shaking. He made new noises that Charlie hadn’t heard before, maddened little grunts into Charlie’s neck, big hands clenching in his hair. This was sex, abruptly and completely, and-insane. Charlie couldn’t even begin to react.
It was over soon, anyway.
The headboard banged against the wall, and Don jerked, shuddering for what seemed like a long time, his come spurting wet and hot between them. Charlie, like usual, tagged along a few seconds later. After, Don was heavy and trembling on him, his breath shaking in Charlie’s ear. Fingers worked through his hair, feeling it up, and lips found the side of his jaw. When their cheeks brushed, Don’s wet and hot, Charlie realized Don was crying.
“Sorry,” Don said in a gossamer tone.
And then the crushing weight was lifted off Charlie, the seal between their skin broken with a tearing sound. It was like being born, coming out into the air, being slapped on the ass and starting to breathe. Nothing had ever hurt like it before, as he watched Don climb out of the bed, his face miserable as he pulled on his boxers, his pants, buttoned his shirt. Why should something have hurt like this before? They’d never gone this far. They’d crossed line after line, but this dark one had remained un-smudged by so much as a fingertip, and tonight, Charlie had reached beyond it with a good intentioned hand, finding with it Don crouched in preparation of a leap.
At the door, he stopped to look at Charlie for a while, and the heat began to build again, curl Charlie’s toes once more, but Don shook himself, pulling the door shut behind him. He left as quietly as he had entered, and a few moments later, an engine started outside, and headlights slid across Charlie’s walls. Everything Don Wanted stared down at the semen on his belly, then wiped it up with the edge of his blanket. He rolled over onto his side, and shut his eyes.
They both preferred for objects to function the way they were meant to.
The next day, they functioned again.
THE END
Author Notes
OMG. More incest!fic. The shame.
contrelamontre is so good for inspiration. I don’t know what it is about that community, but I rarely walk away from a challenge feeling like I couldn’t write something for it. Not that I always write something, anyway, but it’s there, in case I feel like it.
Feedback
Please do. I enjoy it like little else. As always, if you see a typo, please let me know, because I can be a little blind to them, no matter how many times I read through to see if there are any.
By Fabella, NC-17, complete.
Numb3rs, Don/Charlie, incest.
Summary
The importance of functioning.
Disclaimer
There is no truth to my story. The characters are not mine.
Notes
For the contrelamontre challenge of disturbed sleep. I definitely went over the time limit writing it. Why can’t my ideas just flow from my head to the computer? Can anyone tell me that?
*
Everything He Will Never 1/1, by Fabella
A hand closed around Charlie’s shoulder, and instantly, he was springing up, his head spinning with everything he had to do.
“Shit,” he said, shoving the sweaty tangle of hair out of his face, trying to maneuver through the maze of blankets with his shaky limbs. “Shit, overslept, I have to-” A hand closed over his other shoulder, and two large palms pushed him back down in bed. “Let go. I almost forgot, I have calculations-”
“Shh. Dad’s not taking his sleeping pills anymore.”
Don’s dark shape loomed over him, wide shoulders, narrow waist, arms outstretched to hold him down. Clarity overcame Charlie with the cool hurt of an ice cube lodged suddenly in the throat. It was still the middle of the night. Outside, the normally active streets were quiet, only the occasional beam of headlights sliding across Charlie’s bedroom walls. Don must have shut the window on his way to wake him, because now a branch was tapping against the glass forlornly. Charlie let his head drop to the pillow.
“You okay?” he asked.
Don kneed his way onto the bed, the soft sounds of fabric against fabric until his heat came to rest inches above Charlie’s body, legs straddling Charlie’s hips. Faded cologne filled the space between them, the tired scent causing the back of Charlie’s throat to ache. Don leaned his head down until his mouth was hovering just over Charlie’s, breathing deeply. In. Out. Their used oxygen overlapped, caressed, and it was nearly a kiss. Their own secret way to touch.
Charlie’s toes began to curl as seconds ticked by and Don continued to hover over him, his presence pressing Charlie against the mattress, if not his weight. His body started pricking with sweat, the rhythm of his heart following a more urgent beat, skittering down into his belly to make him flush with sex.
Don’s face was strained this close. Even in the dark, Charlie could see the lines on it, the stress of aging too fast. And this-this was a bad night. Today, they’d seen another kid eaten up by her parents life, a little girl dead because she just happened to be hanging around at the wrong time. Neither of them had been able to help her.
When Don finally pulled his head back, Charlie’s breath went along with him, because then Don tipped his chin down to see the length of Charlie’s bare torso, and the heat of that black, shadowed gaze was crippling his lungs. Making no sound, Don put all his weight on one hand, using the other to push the blanket out of the way. His fingers traced the edge of Charlie’s boxers for an instant, fingertips grazing night-hot flesh, before they were stripped away as efficiently, Charlie lifting his ass from the bed to help.
With quick, tense movements, Don unbuckled his belt, his breathing becoming audible over the rich sound of his zipper being lowered. Charlie’s hands twitched at his sides, but stayed there as if tied when Don rocked above him, working his own pants and boxers down to his knees, before his heat was resting above Charlie again. Charlie closed his eyes for a second, then opened them and looked down to find Don grasping his own dick urgently, squeezing the base, his chest expanding in explosive bursts.
“Now you,” Don grated, but Charlie didn’t need the direction. His cock was throbbing, painfully aroused, and he was already reaching for it.
Together, they began to rub their own cocks. Their knuckles would brush, and a sharp pinch of pleasure in Charlie’s groin would make it that much better.
He had to get up in two hours, but it wasn’t like he hadn’t worked with less sleep than he’d get tonight, and they’d done this before, and survived. Their own special way of surviving. Sometimes, Don came to him at night, like he had this time. Sometimes he’d pull Charlie away from teaching, drive Charlie back to his apartment. Sometimes it would be behind a locked bathroom door, Don hissing instructions in Charlie’s ear as he stood with his chest brushing Charlie’s back, watching in the mirror as Charlie reached into his pants. Always the same, Don taking care of himself as he watched Charlie masturbate.
It wasn’t healthy, it wasn’t good, but they’d been doing it for a long time, and during the rest of the time, the other time when they were not doing this, it barely even existed. They functioned like brothers, and every now and then, stepped out of their lives, and became something else. Charlie sometimes thought of this as a gift, other times it was clearly a punishment. Because what they did together, what they didn’t do, would color Don’s words at the wrong moment, clouding their definitions, making his words entirely separate from themselves.
No, it wasn’t supposed to exist, and mostly didn’t, but being someone’s everything they wanted, and at the same time, everything they could never have, tended to creep into the off-time hours, when they were brothers, nothing else.
“Charlie,” Don was mouthing. Over and over again, as he pulled on his cock, lipping Charlie’s name. His body strained over Charlie’s, rocking back and forth and making hurt sounds as Charlie imitated his movements. Charlie felt out of place tonight, slow and thick, unable to keep up as Don sped the motions of his hands desperately, his eyes fixed on Charlie’s fumbling attempts to follow.
This isn’t working, Charlie thought. I saw that little girl, too.
Cautiously, Charlie reached up, sliding his fingers through the sweaty hair at Don’s temple, feeling the pulse throb under Don’s skin. There was a deep love in him, then, suffocated and gasping for air. Don blinked, his jaw twitching once. His hand froze, clenching down, and his eyes slowly lifted to meet Charlie’s. The fear in them caught Charlie by surprise, made his fingers smooth gently down Don’s cheek.
“It’ll be okay,” Charlie said.
That gaze shattered, and Don’s shadow fell over them both as he let go, hands digging through Charlie’s hair. His body weight dropped and anchored Charlie to the bed.
Their cocks touched for the first time, shaking Charlie, but there wasn’t any time to absorb the new pressure, because then Don was thrusting and grinding against him, his entire body shaking. He made new noises that Charlie hadn’t heard before, maddened little grunts into Charlie’s neck, big hands clenching in his hair. This was sex, abruptly and completely, and-insane. Charlie couldn’t even begin to react.
It was over soon, anyway.
The headboard banged against the wall, and Don jerked, shuddering for what seemed like a long time, his come spurting wet and hot between them. Charlie, like usual, tagged along a few seconds later. After, Don was heavy and trembling on him, his breath shaking in Charlie’s ear. Fingers worked through his hair, feeling it up, and lips found the side of his jaw. When their cheeks brushed, Don’s wet and hot, Charlie realized Don was crying.
“Sorry,” Don said in a gossamer tone.
And then the crushing weight was lifted off Charlie, the seal between their skin broken with a tearing sound. It was like being born, coming out into the air, being slapped on the ass and starting to breathe. Nothing had ever hurt like it before, as he watched Don climb out of the bed, his face miserable as he pulled on his boxers, his pants, buttoned his shirt. Why should something have hurt like this before? They’d never gone this far. They’d crossed line after line, but this dark one had remained un-smudged by so much as a fingertip, and tonight, Charlie had reached beyond it with a good intentioned hand, finding with it Don crouched in preparation of a leap.
At the door, he stopped to look at Charlie for a while, and the heat began to build again, curl Charlie’s toes once more, but Don shook himself, pulling the door shut behind him. He left as quietly as he had entered, and a few moments later, an engine started outside, and headlights slid across Charlie’s walls. Everything Don Wanted stared down at the semen on his belly, then wiped it up with the edge of his blanket. He rolled over onto his side, and shut his eyes.
They both preferred for objects to function the way they were meant to.
The next day, they functioned again.
THE END
Author Notes
OMG. More incest!fic. The shame.
contrelamontre is so good for inspiration. I don’t know what it is about that community, but I rarely walk away from a challenge feeling like I couldn’t write something for it. Not that I always write something, anyway, but it’s there, in case I feel like it.
Feedback
Please do. I enjoy it like little else. As always, if you see a typo, please let me know, because I can be a little blind to them, no matter how many times I read through to see if there are any.