Fic: No Ordinary Birthday
Title: No Ordinary Birthday
Series/Universe: Any Other Friday
Fandom: Numb3rs
Pairing: Don/Charlie
Rating: NC-17 FRAO
Spoilers: Pilot, I suppose?
Summary: Don doesn't know what he wants for his birthday until he gets it.
The heat radiating from Charlie's small body beside him is enough to make Don pull off his tie as he unlocks the door to his apartment. Charlie snags the tie and slides languidly past him to stand just out of reach; the piercing gaze still binds and intoxicates Don, even as he puts his gun and badge aside.
The answering machine clicks to life. "Donny! It's your father. Your birthday is still a family occasion, son; there's cake." He reaches for the phone, but Charlie smacks a hand on it first so Don can't pick up. Their eyes lock.
"Strip."
Don blinks, stunned. Charlie's cell phone rings, and he steps back as he answers it. "Hey, Pop!" His voice is light; his eyes smolder. "He's exhausted."
Don slips off his shoes and socks, "He says he'll feel better after a shower..." rids himself of the button-down and undershirt, "I don't know, he's pretty beat," finally, sheds his pants and boxers. He bunches up the clothes for the hamper but Charlie's fierce focus pins him in place.
"Are you sure? Because I could call us a taxi."
He watches, riveted, as Charlie's eyes flick from Don's face to his cock, his voice perfectly casual. Heat overwhelms Don as he tracks Charlie's pink tongue, snaking out to crawl across his lip. "Well, Okay. Goodnight."
The phone clicks shut and Charlie lets it thump to the floor. "Drop 'em."
Don lets the clothes fall. Charlie steps over them, moving so close Don can smell chalk, can almost feel the tweedy rasp of sport coat against his chest. Agile fingertips trace a maddening filigree up his side and over; a light hand pauses on his breastbone and pushes, quick and sharp. "Bed."
Don dances back, catching his balance, clinging to Charlie's laser gaze as if this lithe, wicked version of his brother would vanish into imagination if he blinks. His fingers grope behind him for the bedroom door, slipping over the cool knob with a rattle.
Charlie slinks up to him and slides warm fingers across his hip before reaching behind him to turn the knob and push the door open.
Don steps back, his mind whirling with anticipation. Charlie raises his arms to strip his t-shirt, and Don's breath loses rhythm as pale smooth skin comes into view. Mercifully the bed looms behind him and he sinks onto it, the cool sheets a shock against his overheated skin.
Charlie's hands drop to his own belt, which clinks as he steps out of his jeans.
Don's heart pounds as Charlie leans down, one hand planted on the mattress beside his head. He opens his mouth, but Charlie doesn't kiss him. Don bites his lip and holds perfectly still-eyes wide, not daring to even breathe-since he's not sure of the rules to this game.
After a moment Charlie grins again, lets his lips hover close to Don's. He glides one hand from Don's shoulder to hip and arches his back so that the tip of his cock barely brushes Don's.
Don lifts his head to press their lips together, but Charlie feints back, humming his disapproval. Only after Don's head drops to the pillow, he dives in, devouring Don's mouth for long moments before pulling back again. He picks up Don's right hand, bringing the trigger finger to his lips. He laves the calluses, scrapes his teeth over the roughened skin before sucking the whole finger into his mouth.
Don can't stop a groan at the heat and pressure. The sight of Charlie's hollow cheeks and lips shiny with spit send a shudder through him. Charlie wriggles against his thighs, perfect friction almost where he needs it. He finds his other hand full of Charlie's ass, pulling, straining.
Charlie lets Don's finger go, stops moving except for a hand he drops hard on Don's chest to keep himself from sliding farther forward. "Give me your hands."
Don tries to bring his hands up, offer them to Charlie to bind. A flood of shame washes over him and he stiffens, looking away from Charlie's face for the first time since they got to the apartment.
"Don? Shake your head and I'll stop."
Don sucks air between clenched teeth and slides his hand across Charlie's hip and finally brings both wrists together between their bodies. His face burns.
"Shh..." Charlie cups Don's jaw in his palm and gently pushes Don's hands up over his head. Charlie looks into his eyes, appraising.
Don says nothing, but drops his guard as much as he can, showing every ounce of his trust through his eyes.
"Stay." Charlie brings their cocks back into feathery contact; Don has to bite his lip to keep from bucking into the tantalizing touch. "I have a better idea." Charlie sounds breathless. He slides the tie from between the sheets, allowing it to slither up across Don's stomach and chest. "You can't control what you can't see." He knots the silk over Don's eyes, his body folded over so that he envelops Don in his heat, the texture and scent of his skin, the rhythm of his heart. Don breathes deeply, soothing himself.
Charlie kisses him again, deep and slow, letting him relish the lush slide of their tongues while he rolls his hips in tantalizingly feline arcs. He catches Don's lip between his teeth, scratches lightly at the back of his scalp. When he breaks the kiss he breathes against Don's neck, nips his earlobe "I want to feel you inside me."
Don's fists clench in the pillow behind his head while his hips snap, but he finds no friction. He chokes off a growl of frustration; Charlie's moving away.
"Patience, brother mine," Charlie purrs, and Don hears the nightstand drawer open and shut, the pop and squelch of Charlie slicking his fingers with lube. "I have been waiting six days, thirteen hours, and fifty-eight minutes for this."
He listens for the tiny sounds of Charlie prepping himself, his breath quickening, wondering how Charlie will touch him next. Will he trail teasing kisses up the length of his cock, ticklish curls trailing in their wake? Will he drip shockingly cold lube on overheated skin before stroking him roughly root to tip? He can feel the mattress rocking ever-so-slightly and he knows Charlie's on the left half of the bed, but he's lost the sense of his brother's position.
All at once Charlie presses plush lips against the head of Don's cock, yielding to allow it to slide inside the humid well of his mouth. A low moan rises out of Don, uncontrollable, and he gasps when Charlie takes him deep, sucking hard as he pulls off.
He moves to straddle Don again, guiding his cock to his entrance and sinking down. "God, Don, you feel so good inside me." Charlie folds over him, trails stinging bites along his jaw. "Fuck me."
Don obliges, shifting his hands to the top edge of the mattress so he can get more leverage. Charlie kneels up and moves with him, slamming down at the end of each stroke so hard Don has to clench his teeth to keep them from clacking together. He can feel sweat standing out on his face; as they move faster he's startled to feel fat drops splat on his chest from Charlie above him.
Charlie's voice rises in a breathy keen pitched for his ears only and under that Don can hear him working his own cock. The scent of their sex drowns him as Charlie stiffens, clenching around him. Don's body explodes with electricity, thoughts dissolve in dizzy, buzzing bliss as a hot splatter of Charlie's come paints his stomach.
They collapse in a tangle, drenched with sweat. Once they catch their breath, Charlie hooks a finger under the tie and slides it off Don's eyes. "Happy Birthday?"
"Damn straight," Don answers, wrapping his brother in his arms. He slides a hand down Charlie's slippery back." You are soaked, Buddy."
"Round two in the shower?"
"Think you can stand up?"
"I can. Not sure about you, old man." Charlie teases, rolling off the bed before Don can pin him.
Don follows, his face plastered with a grin." Oh, just for that you can wash your own hair. I'll just stand by and watch you exhaust yourself."
"I can think of a better way to exhaust myself," Charlie purrs over his shoulder as he leans in to turn the shower on.
Don wraps his arms around Charlie from behind, breathing in the salty scent of him. "Thank you for...my birthday. I didn't know what I wanted until you gave it to me."
Charlie leans back into Don's embrace, snaking one arm up around his neck. "Better than candles and cake?"
"Definitely. But we'll still get cake right? Tomorrow?"
"I told Dad we'd come over for lunch," Charlie says, tugging Don under the steaming spray with him, "I promised him we could sing."
Series/Universe: Any Other Friday
Fandom: Numb3rs
Pairing: Don/Charlie
Rating: NC-17 FRAO
Spoilers: Pilot, I suppose?
Summary: Don doesn't know what he wants for his birthday until he gets it.
The heat radiating from Charlie's small body beside him is enough to make Don pull off his tie as he unlocks the door to his apartment. Charlie snags the tie and slides languidly past him to stand just out of reach; the piercing gaze still binds and intoxicates Don, even as he puts his gun and badge aside.
The answering machine clicks to life. "Donny! It's your father. Your birthday is still a family occasion, son; there's cake." He reaches for the phone, but Charlie smacks a hand on it first so Don can't pick up. Their eyes lock.
"Strip."
Don blinks, stunned. Charlie's cell phone rings, and he steps back as he answers it. "Hey, Pop!" His voice is light; his eyes smolder. "He's exhausted."
Don slips off his shoes and socks, "He says he'll feel better after a shower..." rids himself of the button-down and undershirt, "I don't know, he's pretty beat," finally, sheds his pants and boxers. He bunches up the clothes for the hamper but Charlie's fierce focus pins him in place.
"Are you sure? Because I could call us a taxi."
He watches, riveted, as Charlie's eyes flick from Don's face to his cock, his voice perfectly casual. Heat overwhelms Don as he tracks Charlie's pink tongue, snaking out to crawl across his lip. "Well, Okay. Goodnight."
The phone clicks shut and Charlie lets it thump to the floor. "Drop 'em."
Don lets the clothes fall. Charlie steps over them, moving so close Don can smell chalk, can almost feel the tweedy rasp of sport coat against his chest. Agile fingertips trace a maddening filigree up his side and over; a light hand pauses on his breastbone and pushes, quick and sharp. "Bed."
Don dances back, catching his balance, clinging to Charlie's laser gaze as if this lithe, wicked version of his brother would vanish into imagination if he blinks. His fingers grope behind him for the bedroom door, slipping over the cool knob with a rattle.
Charlie slinks up to him and slides warm fingers across his hip before reaching behind him to turn the knob and push the door open.
Don steps back, his mind whirling with anticipation. Charlie raises his arms to strip his t-shirt, and Don's breath loses rhythm as pale smooth skin comes into view. Mercifully the bed looms behind him and he sinks onto it, the cool sheets a shock against his overheated skin.
Charlie's hands drop to his own belt, which clinks as he steps out of his jeans.
Don's heart pounds as Charlie leans down, one hand planted on the mattress beside his head. He opens his mouth, but Charlie doesn't kiss him. Don bites his lip and holds perfectly still-eyes wide, not daring to even breathe-since he's not sure of the rules to this game.
After a moment Charlie grins again, lets his lips hover close to Don's. He glides one hand from Don's shoulder to hip and arches his back so that the tip of his cock barely brushes Don's.
Don lifts his head to press their lips together, but Charlie feints back, humming his disapproval. Only after Don's head drops to the pillow, he dives in, devouring Don's mouth for long moments before pulling back again. He picks up Don's right hand, bringing the trigger finger to his lips. He laves the calluses, scrapes his teeth over the roughened skin before sucking the whole finger into his mouth.
Don can't stop a groan at the heat and pressure. The sight of Charlie's hollow cheeks and lips shiny with spit send a shudder through him. Charlie wriggles against his thighs, perfect friction almost where he needs it. He finds his other hand full of Charlie's ass, pulling, straining.
Charlie lets Don's finger go, stops moving except for a hand he drops hard on Don's chest to keep himself from sliding farther forward. "Give me your hands."
Don tries to bring his hands up, offer them to Charlie to bind. A flood of shame washes over him and he stiffens, looking away from Charlie's face for the first time since they got to the apartment.
"Don? Shake your head and I'll stop."
Don sucks air between clenched teeth and slides his hand across Charlie's hip and finally brings both wrists together between their bodies. His face burns.
"Shh..." Charlie cups Don's jaw in his palm and gently pushes Don's hands up over his head. Charlie looks into his eyes, appraising.
Don says nothing, but drops his guard as much as he can, showing every ounce of his trust through his eyes.
"Stay." Charlie brings their cocks back into feathery contact; Don has to bite his lip to keep from bucking into the tantalizing touch. "I have a better idea." Charlie sounds breathless. He slides the tie from between the sheets, allowing it to slither up across Don's stomach and chest. "You can't control what you can't see." He knots the silk over Don's eyes, his body folded over so that he envelops Don in his heat, the texture and scent of his skin, the rhythm of his heart. Don breathes deeply, soothing himself.
Charlie kisses him again, deep and slow, letting him relish the lush slide of their tongues while he rolls his hips in tantalizingly feline arcs. He catches Don's lip between his teeth, scratches lightly at the back of his scalp. When he breaks the kiss he breathes against Don's neck, nips his earlobe "I want to feel you inside me."
Don's fists clench in the pillow behind his head while his hips snap, but he finds no friction. He chokes off a growl of frustration; Charlie's moving away.
"Patience, brother mine," Charlie purrs, and Don hears the nightstand drawer open and shut, the pop and squelch of Charlie slicking his fingers with lube. "I have been waiting six days, thirteen hours, and fifty-eight minutes for this."
He listens for the tiny sounds of Charlie prepping himself, his breath quickening, wondering how Charlie will touch him next. Will he trail teasing kisses up the length of his cock, ticklish curls trailing in their wake? Will he drip shockingly cold lube on overheated skin before stroking him roughly root to tip? He can feel the mattress rocking ever-so-slightly and he knows Charlie's on the left half of the bed, but he's lost the sense of his brother's position.
All at once Charlie presses plush lips against the head of Don's cock, yielding to allow it to slide inside the humid well of his mouth. A low moan rises out of Don, uncontrollable, and he gasps when Charlie takes him deep, sucking hard as he pulls off.
He moves to straddle Don again, guiding his cock to his entrance and sinking down. "God, Don, you feel so good inside me." Charlie folds over him, trails stinging bites along his jaw. "Fuck me."
Don obliges, shifting his hands to the top edge of the mattress so he can get more leverage. Charlie kneels up and moves with him, slamming down at the end of each stroke so hard Don has to clench his teeth to keep them from clacking together. He can feel sweat standing out on his face; as they move faster he's startled to feel fat drops splat on his chest from Charlie above him.
Charlie's voice rises in a breathy keen pitched for his ears only and under that Don can hear him working his own cock. The scent of their sex drowns him as Charlie stiffens, clenching around him. Don's body explodes with electricity, thoughts dissolve in dizzy, buzzing bliss as a hot splatter of Charlie's come paints his stomach.
They collapse in a tangle, drenched with sweat. Once they catch their breath, Charlie hooks a finger under the tie and slides it off Don's eyes. "Happy Birthday?"
"Damn straight," Don answers, wrapping his brother in his arms. He slides a hand down Charlie's slippery back." You are soaked, Buddy."
"Round two in the shower?"
"Think you can stand up?"
"I can. Not sure about you, old man." Charlie teases, rolling off the bed before Don can pin him.
Don follows, his face plastered with a grin." Oh, just for that you can wash your own hair. I'll just stand by and watch you exhaust yourself."
"I can think of a better way to exhaust myself," Charlie purrs over his shoulder as he leans in to turn the shower on.
Don wraps his arms around Charlie from behind, breathing in the salty scent of him. "Thank you for...my birthday. I didn't know what I wanted until you gave it to me."
Charlie leans back into Don's embrace, snaking one arm up around his neck. "Better than candles and cake?"
"Definitely. But we'll still get cake right? Tomorrow?"
"I told Dad we'd come over for lunch," Charlie says, tugging Don under the steaming spray with him, "I promised him we could sing."