The Club Part 2
* * *
When Charlie opened his eyes he was greeted with the sight of that same watercolor painting that seemed to be in at least half the hotel rooms he'd ever stayed in. He closed his eyes again and raised his arms above his head to stretch luxuriously.
"Good morning, Professor," an amused voice said quietly.
Charlie's eyes snapped open and he sat up, blinking in thankfully short-lived confusion at the man nextto him. The club. Coffee. Ian. Ian who was apparently as naked under the sheets as Charlie was. He blushed and pulled the sheets snugly around his waist. It was irrational to be shy about his body now, after Ian had already seen everything there was to see and touched nearly everything there was to touch. Unfortunately, his emotions remained as impervious to logic as ever. "You're still here," he said, unable to mask the surprise in his voice. Fortunately, Ian either wasn't offended or chose to hide it. "I'm still here," he agreed.
He barely managed to stop himself from asking why and he desperately wished he were more awake. Charlie was not a morning person. The only times he was bright-eyed and bushy tailed in the morning were when he'd never gone to sleep the night before. Normally it took him a good 20-30 minutes to really wake up, a process that always seemed to take even longer when he woke up in unfamiliar surroundings. Usually, it wasn't a problem, it was something he could plan for. But of course he hadn't planned for this and the sluggish pace of his thoughts was frustrating.
Charlie glanced over at Ian and offered a tentative smile as he ran one hand through his unruly curls. "I'm not uh--" he coughed, even more embarrassed now. "I'm not very good at this. In fact I--I haven't really had one of these conversations before. But you probably guessed that." He splayed his hand on the bedspread to keep himself from wringing them together, a sure sign of his distress.
"It's okay, Charlie." Ian's hand on his leg felt warm, even through the sheets of the bed. "Would you like me to go?"
Charlie cocked his head to the side, considering. Ian, of course, had probably been up long before Charlie was no doubt completely clearheaded. Even though he had more than half expected to wake up alone, he found that despite his embarrassment, he wasn't actually disappointed or unhappy that Ian had stayed. A little confused, maybe, curious even, but not unhappy. "No," Charlie said softly. "No, I'd like you to say--if that's okay with you."
Ian smiled, and so Charlie knew his answer even before he said the words. "It's okay with me." He found himself relaxing, reassured by the fact that Ian seemed to be taking all of this in stride, that he wasn't offended or impatient with Charlie's fumblings for the right things to say and do. On impulse Charlie leaned over and placed a fleeting kiss on Ian's lips.
"Do you want to do breakfast or something? I think I told you that my flight doesn't leave until late tonight but I don't want you to feel like you have to stay with me all day. Not that I'd mind hanging out with you," he added hastily. "I think it would be nice, I just -- I know you're busy and - - "
"Charlie," Ian interrupted, the big hand moving from his leg to gently squeeze his arm. "Relax. I still no how to say no, too. Breakfast sounds good."
"Yeah? Okay, I'll just--do you mind if I take a shower first?"
"Of course not." Ian snagged the white hotel robe from where it had been tossed on the floor the night before and Charlie accepted it gratefully. He got dressed and picked up the complimentary newspaper outside the door, bringing it back to the bed so Ian would have something to do while Charlie showered.
"I won't be long."
"Take your time."
And so he did. He allowed himself to linger under the hot water, using the time to try and wake up as well as to get clean. It wasn't until he'd lathered up his hair that he realized not inviting Ian to share the shower with him could be perceived as rude. Well, too late now, and truthfully, he wasn't ready for that kind of intimacy again so soon. He racked his brain for something they could do after breakfast that Ian might enjoy but the only thing he could think of was a trip to the shooting range. There had to be one within driving distance.
Ian used the shower after Charlie did, something that left him surprised for reasons he couldn't quite pin down. Charlie took his turn reading the paper and then they left the hotel in favor of a restaurant Ian knew of that was within walking distance.
"I thought maybe we could try going to a gun range after breakfast. That is, if you're interested."
"Thought you didn't believe in guns," Ian teased.
"I still don't," Charlie said lightly. "But I recognize them as a necessary evil for people in your line of work. And you were right about having first hand experience."
"A little right?"
Charlie grinned. "Yeah. A little right."
* * *
The shower, a little fresh air (such as was to be had in the vicinity of DuPont Circle during rush hour), and a big mug of black coffee brightened the little professor considerably. Charlie Eppes was obviously not an easy or early riser, and Ian was amused and disconcertedly attracted by the mix of childlike muzziness and masculine grumpiness.
Foregoing the overpriced blandness of the hotel restaurant, they walked to a mom & pop diner in Adams Morgan, not even talking as Ian adjusted his stride to Charlie’s slightly sleepy gait. His hands were thrust into the deep front pockets of jeans that rode loosely on his hips beneath the untucked tails of a blue pin-striped Oxford shirt, his shoulders rounded into an oversized navy fleece jacket with an unobtrusive FBI embroidered monogram on the left breast. The damp curls frizzed wildly in the morning fog, and Ian tucked his fingers into his palm, letting the prick of his nails quell the impulse to rest his hand on the dark head. The silence was a little unnervingly comfortable. Edgerton was little more used to knowing his partners personally than Charlie; even less accustomed to attraction that seemed to have increased after the acquisition. The tenderness was almost entirely new, and something he hadn’t felt in years.
Seated in a booth, they started with a large infusion of caffeine, and Charlie took only a brief look at the menu before ordering a bagel with lox and cream cheese. Not knowing the Eppes family well enough to gauge how assiduously they kept kosher, Ian took the safe route, foregoing the eggs and bacon for a bagel himself.
Still a little curled in on himself - a prey animal’s protective trait that roused a peculiar protectiveness in the predator - Charlie warmed his hands around the oversized mug and looked up at Ian through his lashes before raising his head. Good God, could that be as innocent as it looked, or was it rehearsed? he wondered.
“You don’t have to work today?” he asked, lifting his mug to blow across the steaming liquid. The action of pursing the full lips drew attention to the ridiculously pretty mouth, and Ian was suddenly sure that Charlie was oblivious to the effect.
He turned his own coffee cup by the handle and picked it up, hiding the little flare of attraction in an amused smirk as he answered. “No. I’m between assignments at the moment. When I’m on, I’m on twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. The Bureau’s pretty good about giving me downtime between jobs.”
Something flickered in the black-coffee eyes. “Um - if you don’t, like, want to go to…”
Ian shook his head slightly, one corner of his mouth quirking up further. “I want to go,” he said softly, treading on the trailed-off escape clause. He didn’t know if his own eyes twinkled or glittered, but he could tell from the faint relaxation of the curved shoulders and the dilation of the dark eyes that Charlie not only understood the subtext, he was receptive.
* * *
Charlie nodded and subconsciously licked his lips as he was briefly overwhelmed by sensory memories of the night before. Large hands hot against his flushed skin, strength mixed with a surprising amount of tenderness, and the combined sounds of their pleasure. He quickly looked down at the table, shy and a little embaressed. He was sure that Ian hadn't missed the slight squirm in his seat.
It was more than a little disconcerting to realize that the next time he had sex with Ian, and it looked like there would be a next time, he really wanted to take his time, explore the larger man's body with gentle touches and soft kisses, learn what gave him pleasure not just because he wanted to get them both off but because he genuinely wanted to know. It was a new feeling and he wasn't entirely sure he liked it. He wrapped his hands more securely around the mug to keep himself from reaching out to touch olive skin.
Fortunately, their food arrived a few minutes later, distracting Charlie from his contemplation. He knew himself well enough to know that if he let himself think too much about what would happen after the gun range he'd overthink it, make himself nervous and start second guessing whether he'd read the signs right. Or else he'd really start worrying about the feelings Ian seemed to bring out and probably run the other way.
"So tell me, what does a CalSci professor do for fun besides math?"
Charlie took another bite of his bagel and considered his answer. "I like going hiking," he said after a moment. "The solitude can be nice, helps clear my head." He told Ian about some of his favorite hiking trails and from there the conversation turned to reading material (Ian was surprisingly well read), then movies, music, and back to the outdoors. They didn't talk about work or their families, though Charlie wasn't sure whether that was deliberate on Ian's part or not. The time passed quickly and Charlie was almost surprised to discover that they'd finished breakfast and were ready to move on to the gun range. Charlie insisted on paying for breakfast because Ian had paid for the coffee the night before.
The urge to touch Ian had subsided a bit while they talked but it hadn't completely disappeared. Charlie waited until they were in the taxi before letting his knee brush against Ian's, not quite daring to touch bare skin. Ian didn't move away so Charlie kept that point of contact until they reached the range.
He let the sniper make the arrangements for guns and ammunition. The gun range wasn't really Ian's home ground, he suspected that like Don, Ian's true home ground was the field. He automatically tried to jerk his thoughts way from his brother. Don would never know about his -- time -- with Ian, but if Don ever found out he'd slept with an FBI agent he'd be unhappy if not outright furious. Then again, given Don's own dating history with Terry Lake, Kim Hall, and arguably Nadine Hodges, Don was hardly in a position to lecture about the ethics of mixing business and pleasure.
"Hey, you ready?" Ian asked, touching his shoulder gently.
"Yeah." He offered a smile and followed Ian to the target area.
"You've done this before, right?"
"Twice," Charlie confirmed.
"You were at a range twice?" Ian asked, taking the gun out of its case.
"No, just the one time. I shot twice." Ian raised an eyebrow and Charlie shrugged uncomfortably. "Don wasn't exactly happy about it. He--sometimes he's protective, you know?"
* * *
Ian bit he inside of his lower lip, looking down as he checked the gun to cover. He knew better than to smile, but he couldn't help it. 'Sometimes he's protective, you know?' Yeah, I know, sometimes the earth goes around the sun, he thought wryly. He suspected that Charlie was so used to his big brother's protectiveness that he never really noticed the way it surrounded him - a neon-glowing cloud of ferocious emotion emanating from the otherwise calm, cool, and collected FBI agent, enveloping his oblivious younger sibling. It would, of course, be like noticing that the sky was blue or the grass was green for someone who had undoubtedly lived in that precious bubble all his life.
He could just see Don taking the gun impatiently out of his brother's hands, out of his reach. He also suspected that Agent Eppes was uncomfortably cognizant of the symbolism of that little act. There had been moments during the investigation in Los Angeles where Ian was struck by the tenderness under the impatience in the way Eppes handled his little brother, the way he spoke to him, the way he touched him. That panicked dash across the plaza to pick him up off the pavement and into the safety of his arms was not nearly as telling as the way his thumb would move over the bare skin exposed between collar and curls, parchment thin and whitened over arched vertebrae at the nape of his neck, as he bent over calculations, or especially the way Don would catch Charlie's wrist in passing to say something as he entered or left a room, ducking his head to make sure the number-hazed eyes focused on his.
Ian ran the tip of his tongue over his lower lip as he made a mostly unnecessary small adjustment on the rifle and took out the tripod. Charlie, who had been a little fidgety, rubbing his fingers along the side seams of his jeans as if to rid them of non-existent chalkdust, stepped forward to help him, and he was more clever at it than the experience sniper had expected, snapping bits of the apparatus efficiently into place. Within a matter of seconds, the rifle was on its mount, and long fingers brushed lightly along the gleaming metal before dropping away.
Ian took one pair of ear protectors out of the case and almost playfully put them over Charlie's head. He was treated to a remarkable grin as the ear pieces were tugged into place, and when the headband proved slightly resistant to those clever fingers, he reached in to adjust it snugly. If that gave him an opportunity to brush his fingertips through the glossy curls, then perhaps he could relate to the elder Eppes's tendency to touch.
Donning his own ear protectors, Ian took up his position behind the gun, checking the sights, the stability of the tripod, the target, then stepped back. "All yours, professor."
* * *
Charlie swallowed, blissfully unaware of the way his Adam's apple gave away his nervousness, and stepped forward. Obviously, there was a significant height difference between himself and Agent Edgerton, and he had to stretch up and over the barrier a little uncomfortably.
"Wait," said Ian immediately, his big hands clasping Charlie's hips and pulling him back slightly. "You can't be off balance. Heels down. Widen your stance a little…" Edgerton's boot between his ankles nudged his feet apart; it should have been intrusive, but he managed to make it almost gentle. Charlie felt a tingle spread up his spine, over his scalp as Ian's body brushed against his, hands coming up to press down on his shoulders, thumbs probing the taut muscles at the base of his neck. "Relax."
Charlie tilted his head from side to side, trying to relax, trying to ignore the warm nearness of the other body. A body he already knew better than any save his own… He had an uncomfortable flash of Don standing stiffly behind him, hands hard, almost punishing at times as he adjusted Charlie's stance at the rifle. Don, usually so careful with him, was rushing him from the moment they walked into the range. Edgerton moved almost as swiftly, but efficiently, no rushing. His hand smoothed down Charlie's back as he stepped to the side, folding his arms to wait for Charlie to take his shot.
He still flinched at the recoil, and his shot barely caught the edge of the paper target, well outside the live area. He felt the heat of his blush creeping up his throat, reaching his ears before his cheeks, but he could see out of the corner of his eye that Edgerton didn't even smile. He simply nodded and spoke softly. "Take a deep breath. Try it again."
* * *
They were at the range for almost an hour. Ian never rushed him, never showed any sign of disappointment or impatience. He always spoke calmly, readjusted Charlie with gentle hands.
The first time he made a good shot he reacted the same way he had with Don, lifting his hands and grinning like an idiot as he watched them shake with adrenaline. Ian smiled, briefly holding Charlie's hands inside his larger, steady hands.
He was doing better by the time Ian decided to call it a day, but his hands and forearms were sore. He tried to hide it, but Ian must have noticed because he paused before putting the rifle away. "I can help you with that when we get back to the hotel," Ian said, rubbing Charlie's forearm lightly.
Charlie ducked his head and smiled shyly. "I'd like that."
* * *
Relaxing into the back seat of the cab, Ian was aware that Charlie was completely unaware of how wired he was, still zinging on adrenaline from his unaccustomed encounter with firearms and the undeniable sexual tension that had underlined the session. His knee bounced nervously, and as he leaned against the door, looking out at the traffic as if it were exotic to an LA boy, his hands were upturned, curled loosely like odd, pale flowers against his thighs. The long fingers twitched slightly, and Ian could almost feel the sympathetic tingling in his own hands.
***
Charlie jumped when strong fingers closed around his wrist, and he could feel his eyes flaring wide in astonishment, his heart tripping in his throat in panic as his hand was drawn into the encompassing warmth of two much bigger hands.
The corner of Ian's mouth quirked up as he dug his thumbs hard into the palm of his hand, and Charlie squeaked in surprise, instinctively trying to pull back from the pain that shot out his fingertips and up into his elbow and shoulder.
"Ssssh," soothed Ian, holding him firmly, working his thumbs in an insistent little circle, his strong fingers rubbing across the back of his hand. "Your hand is going to cramp up if you're not careful."
Charlie winced and tried to relax, panicked from the momentary thought that Agent Edgerton was trying to hold his hand in public and gasping at the pressure as Ian worked a slow spiral outward in his palm. As he lowered his shoulders and tried to ease the tension in his forearm, watching the progress warily, he could feel a warm shiver of pleasure seeping in under the pain. He looked up in amazement, and Edgerton's familiar slight smirk was blunted by the warmth in his eyes.
The big thumbs rubbed in sweeping circles across the relaxing palm, gradually lightening the intensity, and Charlie's eyelashes flickered as one thumb slipped down, brushing lightly across the heightened pulse in his exposed wrist.
"That'll be eighteen twenty-six," intoned the driver, bored.
* * *
Ian paid the cabdriver and they spent the trip to the hotel room in silence.
"I had a good time," Charlie said, once the door was shut.
"Yeah, me too. You're getting better handling that weapon."
"I've had good teachers," Charlie said, grinning as he stepped into Ian's personal space.
"Is that right?" Ian asked with his trademark smirk.
"Mmm. One of them even takes care of me after," Charlie said as Ian picked up his hand and started to massage it the same way he'd massaged his other hand in the taxi.
Ian smiled and continued to massage his hand in silence for a few minutes. "Better?" he asked quietly.
"Much," Charlie said, placing his newly freed hand on Ian's chest and stretching up for a kiss. Ian turned his head at the last second so Charlie ended up kissing his cheek rather than his lips. Charlie frowned but didn't comment. Instead he just rested his head against Ian's chest for a moment as Ian slipped one arm around his waist and brought the other up to stroke Charlie's hair.
Charlie lifted his head to look Ian in the eye. "Not so nervous this time," Ian commented softly.
"No," Charlie agreed, voice equally soft. This time Ian wouldn't have to tell him to slow down. Now he wanted to take his time, explore Ian's body and discover how to give him the most pleasure.
* * *
As tendrils of windblown curls wound themselves around, through, between his fingers, Ian looked down at the face resting against his chest -over the fierce eyebrows and aquiline nose to the long lashes and soft mouth-and felt a brief moment of panic. Why was he doing this? The last time he’d spent more than one night with anyone was…a very long time ago, indeed. But as the long fingers curled inward against his shirt, a soft gasp parting the full lips, he found that his thumb was rubbing gently in the hollow at the base of the skull, and he smiled, relaxing, curling the fingers of his free hand around the surprisingly narrow wrist on his chest. He rubbed his hand up the forearm, beneath the shirtsleeve, and the low moan surged through his body with a warmth he hadn’t felt in longer than…a very long time.
He chuckled softly, his hand pressing down Charlie’s back, squeezing gently as he drew back, taking both wrists in his hands to pull the pliant body across the floor. As they neared the bed, Charlie started to resist slightly, but Ian smiled as he sat on the edge. “Don’t worry,” he said softly, enjoying the rumble of his own voice in his body as he pulled Charlie between his knees and rubbed his forearms. “I’m not rushing. I’m not through taking care of you.”
Charlie smiled ruefully, a delightful blush staining his throat and cheeks, and Ian reached up to ease the cotton shirt off his shoulders and toss it on the bedside easy chair. His big hands rested on the narrow shoulders, and Charlie groaned despite himself when he kneaded the tense muscles.
Ian grinned and scooted back, making room. He turned the shoulders in his hands, and Charlie sat obediently, settling back with a momentarily distracting little wiggle. Although he was fairly certain it was innocent, Ian retaliated by running his hands along the jeans-clad thighs, ostensibly to guide him, his fingertips straying lightly into dangerous territory before dropping away.
A light shiver passed over Charlie’s skin, and Ian’s hands slid firmly down the bare arms, his cheek brushing tangled curls as he leaned forward to take the right forearm in both hands. Charlie relaxed his head against his shoulder, and the soft exhalation gusted against Ian’s cheek as his thumbs pressed hard down the lean, tight muscles.
* * *
Ian's touch was firm, at times even painful. But Charlie could tell he was both careful and thorough, talented, too. He could feel knots that had probably been there for years disintegrate under Ian's strong hands. He closed his eyes and groaned when Ian worked diligently on a particularly stubborn knot.
"You know," Ian said, and Charlie shivered at the near purr in his voice, "In order to do this properly I really need some lotion or oil. You didn't happen to bring any, did you?"
"Sorry, m--" he barely caught himself from saying what he'd been thinking -- maybe next time. That would have been embarrassing. More worrying was the realization that he was thinking in terms of a next time.
"Relax," Ian chided, apparently feeling the sudden tension in Charlie's body.
"I'm so--"
"Shh," Ian soothed. He worked in silence for a few minutes, finding every last knot in Charlie's back and arms. Then his touches became more gentle, even sensual.
* * *
Charlie's hands clasped his knees, bracing him for some of the harder treatment, but he relaxed as he felt Ian's hands gentling, hands moving over his back and shoulders almost as if smoothing out the wrinkles of his old T-shirt. He shivered even as he felt a flush as the huge hands curved over his shoulders, making him feel very small indeed, and continued their unhurried way down the short sleeves, gently squeezing his upper arms - Charlie tried not to feel the inadequacy of his biceps as the fingers and thumbs met, right there underneath in the groove between muscle and bone - before smoothing firmly down his forearms. His thumbs caught against the pulse points inside the wrists, his fingertips lightly tracing down the backs of his hand before stretching out to cover his own long, slender hands completely.
The larger body eased around him in an unmistakeable caress, a cheek resting against his hair as the fingers moved, sliding between Charlie's, clasping.
Charlie wet his lips with a nervous tongue and said unevenly, "That felt - amazing." He turned his head against the broad shoulder to see the strong profile so close to his. His heart gave a slight leap as he saw the short, dark lashes cast down against high cheekbones. "Thank you."
"My pleasure," murmured the big man, his voice rumbling in his chest like the purr of a big cat, and his eyes opened to look into Charlie's with a hint of the old, familiar predatory teasing.
With a light caress of his hands on the way, Ian stretched back on the newly-made bed, his arms above his head nearly reaching the pillows. Eyebrows drawing taut with uncertainty, Charlie turned onto his hands and knees, bridging Ian's strong hips and chest to look down into his eyes.
"Who takes care of you?" he asked softly.
* * *
Ian’s hand faltered slightly on its way up to stroke Charlie’s back. Even startled by the unexpected question, he felt oddly tender about the way the thin cotton of the nearly threadbare old T-shirt moved over skin and ribs and the slight softness around the middle. The man felt so young, even though Ian knew he was almost thirty, and only fourteen years younger than he was himself.
The concern in the dark eyes, in the question touched him more than he was comfortable with, and he put on his protective smirk.
“I take care of myself.”
“I know,” said Charlie softly, watching his fingertip drawing along the placket of his shirt, alongside the buttons, obviously a little chastened by the implicit, “Mind your own business,” in his response, but Ian could feel that familiar stubborness gathering in the spine beneath his caress. “But everybody needs someone to take care of them sometimes, even…”
“Even your brother?”
Charlie stiffened slightly, but then he looked up with that alarming clarity. “Of course he does. Especially when he thinks he doesn’t need it.”
Momentarily stunned by the simple certainty of those words, Ian reached up to push back the long curls falling into the remarkable face above him, and Charlie bent down toward him. Closing his eyes, he turned away, and the kiss landed on his cheek.
The tiny grunt of frustration made him smile, even as the soft lips and nascent stubble moved down along his jaw and the side of his neck. Ian smoothed his hands down the arching back, urging him down against him, and Charlie complied with minimal resistance, muscles still tensed as if for flight as the clever tongue found a particularly sensitive spot behind his ear.
Ian’s squirming was stilled by the almost soundless whisper against his ear, “Why won’t you let me kiss you?”
After the initial hesitation, Ian resumed his stroking along the tense back, urging him to soften against him. “You didn’t want to kiss me last night,” he replied with deceptive lightness. “That told me that you place a very high premium on that kind of intimacy.” His hand curved over the slight rise of Charlie’s rear, fingertips lightly drawing back up the seam of his jeans, provoking a soft gasp and wriggle. “I-I promised not to rush you.”
Charlie worked his arms underneath Ian’s shoulders against the bed, even as he lifted his head, tossing the curls out of his face like a girl as he met his eyes with direct challenge. “That’s not why.”
Ian raised an eyebrow, which he knew from the reflection in the dark eyes looked very controlled and wry, but which he knew from his slightly fluttering heart was surprise. “No,” he drawled slowly. “It’s not why.”
Charlie placed his hands on the bed to push up against him. “Tell me.”
“Because I didn’t want to give you the wrong impression.”
“Wrong impression?” he shot back almost before he was finished.
Ian felt trapped. What could he say? That he was afraid to let Charlie think he wanted more than just sex? That he was afraid that he did? That he was definitely not ready to do more than spend this afternoon in bed with a pretty boy? But that he knew that Charlie was so much more than just a pretty boy?
Damning the consequences, he reached up to shove his fingers almost roughly through the tangled curls and brought Charlie’s mouth hard down to his. Softening just as his tongue slid into yielding surprise and coffee-tinged heat.
* * *
Charlie stifled a squeak of surprise and let his eyes fall closed. He tasted like coffee, and something else, something subtler. Something spicy, or maybe smokey.
He played gently with Ian's tongue, surprisingly grateful that he was allowing this.
He gave a soft moan and pulled back a little, opening his eyes as he caressed Ian's cheek with the back of his hand. He brought his other hand to rest flat over his heart, just looking until it became too much and he lowered his head for another kiss.
He licked at Ian's bottom lip until he was granted entrance, and he took his time exploring that wet heat. His hand on Ian's chest curled slightly as the kiss became a little more heated and a little less gentle.
Charlie was almost afraid to pull away and explore the rest of Ian's body lest he not be allowed this intimacy a second time. But eventually the continual long strokes of his back soothed him and his body relaxed against Ian's. He brought a hand down to brace himself and slid up to kiss Ian's temple, his jaw, the pulse point of his throat.
He let his hand fall to the top button of Ian's shirt. "May I?" he asked quietly.
* * *
The shy question surprised him, but he tried not to show it, reaching out to take the ringlet that fell over Charlie's left eye and tuck it back behind his ear. "Sure."
The smile in Charlie's eyes warmed him before the lashes swept down. Two pairs of dark eyes followed the long fingers working open the top button, then the next, and Ian arched his neck, offering his throat to the soft mouth.
He caught his breath at the light grazing of the teeth along the stretched cord, the wet warmth of the tongue pressing against his pulse. His legs moved apart instinctively, gathering the smaller body closer as it relaxed against him, and his hand curved over the curly head, enjoying the twining of the resilient hair around and through his fingers as another button opened.
Slightly dry fingertips brushed over the broad flat of his chest, lingering for a moment over his tightening nipple before traveling down his ribs as the lightly stubbled cheek brushed his skin. Ian let his soft gasp encourage the younger man, his hand slipping down to rub between the shoulder blades in the thin shirt. A low hum followed the velvet tongue, circling down around his other nipple before the soft mouth closed, the tender suckling pulling his body into a surprised bow. How could something so simple provoke such a deep response?
Charlie slithered gracefully up Ian's body, suddenly tentative as he looked down into his eyes, and Ian smiled, sliding one hand over the warm, smooth skin beneath the T-shirt. He cradled the curly head in his big hand, bringing him down to another kiss.
Another soft purr rippled through Ian's body, causing him to wind one leg fully around the jeans-clad legs. Charlie's hands crept under his shirt to grasp his shoulders and hang on as Ian turned slowly, carefully, stretching him carefully on the bed beside him.
The big, dark eyes looked up at him, dilated and curious-not afraid, not seductive, almost wondering, and Ian groaned, drawing his forefinger lightly down the line of forehead, nose, lips-a light kiss tickling his skin-chin, and arching throat as he bent down to claim another kiss.
* * *
Charlie parted his lips, inviting Ian in. He kept one hand wrapped around Ian's shoulder, stroking the warm, bare skin. His other hand stroked up Ian's back, finally settling lightly on the nape of his neck.
He was amazed at the depth of tenderness he felt for the larger man. It was probably going to scare the hell out of him later, but that was later. He gave a soft moan of pleasure and then drew back a little. "Ian," he whispered.
"Shh," Ian soothed. His lips traced the same path his finger had taken, forehead to throat. He sucked lightly on the pulse point of Charlie's throat, not hard enough to mark, just hard enough to produce a sensation that caused Charlie to shiver.
Charlie watched Ian's dark eyes as the large hand stroked his chest, light and tender. Ian's fingers curled around the hem of Charlie's shirt and he sat up a little to help Ian take it off. He shivered as warm hands caressed his skin and he claimed another kiss, wrapping his arms around Ian and drawing him down on top of him.
* * *
Ian tossed the faded T-shirt onto the floor, sliding his knee across Charlie's thigh as he eased himself down, cradling the smaller man in one arm as his other hand slid down the smooth back. The kisses melted into one another, and Ian shivered at the taste of the little moan he provoked by sliding his fingers into the back of the loose waistband of the old jeans. Shifting a little onto his elbow, he moved his hand around, rubbing his palm pleasurably across the crisp hair and yielding flesh.
He felt Charlie tense a little and nipped his lower lip before whispering a soothing, "Ssssh," and let his fingers slip down between denim and cotton knit, his thumb easing the button free of its hole, his fingertips lightly stroking the thick hair, the silky knit adding a subtle friction. Ian's thumb eased down the zipper, and Charlie's whimper was stifled by another kiss, even as his thighs moved instinctively apart, giving Ian's big hand the room to encompass and knead.
Running the tip of his tongue along the underside of Charlie's, he lifted his head just enough to look down into the huge, dilated dark eyes without stopping his firm caress.
When would he stop being amazed by the power of that curious, open gaze? The parted lips were dark red and swollen, the strong-featured face so paradoxically vulnerable, and then his heart tripped when the slight smile curved the full mouth.
"Okay?" he murmured, his thumb tracing the rising thrust beneath the soft boxer briefs, and the bob of the Adam's apple made him hesitate for a moment, before the blinding smile lit up the flushed face in its halo of dark curls.
"Oh, yeah." The husky chuckle vibrated through his body as one long-fingered hand grabbed his open shirt front and dragged him down for another kiss.
* * *
Charlie allowed some heat into his kiss, but he was careful not so show the full extent of his growing need. He still wanted to take his time, let himself explore. Too much heat too soon and he was likely to start rushing.
He nibbled on Ian's bottom lip and then lowered his head to start feasting on his neck, giving a soft hum of satisfaction when Ian tilted his head to give him better access.
When he made his way to the junction of neck and shoulder he pushed at Ian's shirt until he managed to get it off. He picked up Ian's free hand, momentarily distracted by the differences in size, strength and color, the different placement of their calluses.
* * *
Ian spread his fingers, allowing Charlie's long, slender fingers to slide between, at first just that tormentingly sensual brush of fingertips against webbing, then the edges of nails dragged lightly up the sides of fingers.
His eyes never left the strong, transparent features, watching those big eyes watch the slide of fingers against fingers. He couldn't help the shiver of pleasure, the subtle arch of his hips against the smaller body at the whisper of fingerprint against fingerprint.
As Charlie followed the brush his fingertips down to trace the rifle calluses on Ian's palm, his lashes shadowing his flushed cheeks, and Ian fought down the impulse to rush. The long, slender fingers curled around his wrist, bringing his palm to the soft mouth, lips brushing across roughened skin, and just as Ian was starting to feel a bit uncomfortable with the wondering innocence of the caress, the tip of a tongue traced his lifeline just a fraction before the dark eyes met his, hazed by downcast lashes just a trace of uncertainty that sublimated into pure deviltry when their gaze locked.
A strangled sound, half groan, half laugh, caught in Ian's throat and he rolled quickly onto his back, free arm wrapping around Charlie to pull him on top.
The giggle vibrated pleasurably through him, and he reached up to thread his big fingers through the thick curls, giving a little shake as if to a naughty puppy. But he couldn't help grinning in return, catching the smiling mouth in a playfully messy kiss.
* * *
Charlie grinned and drew back just enough to look at Ian for a moment before bowing his head and claiming another kiss, more heated than their last. He liked Ian's playfulness and the feel of his strong body beneath him.
He tugged on Ian's arms until they were raised above his head and he let his fingers trace muscles and caress skin. He placed a few kisses, shoulder, bicep, just under his armpit before bringing his hands back down, letting Ian wrap his fingers in his curls once more.
He started to slide down Ian's chest, kissing and licking at old scars, mouthing his dark nipples until they were hard pebbles. Long fingers caressed Ian's sides, tracing his ribs.
He wanted to map every centimeter of Ian's body. He wanted to learn how to give him pleasure, how to make his breath catch, what he had to do to make him moan, say Charlie's name. There wasn't enough time for all the careful experimenting and verification he wanted to do.
Charlie let his hands move ahead of him now, his right hand gently caressing Ian through his jeans while Charlie pressed a kiss to his stomach.
* * *
Ian eased his thighs apart around Charlie as he slid down. The soft mouth left a trail of slow kisses below his navel as the clever fingers traced lightly, trailing across denim and toothed metal, then pressed hard, following a line just to the side of where he wanted them.
Air escaped his lungs in a surprised, frustrated gust, his fingers tightening in wild curls, the skin of his belly tingling under a teasing tongue. "God, you-"
Tongue pointed to follow the center line of his abdominal muscles, and the hand turned to cover, protectively at first, and then with subtle pressure, increasing as the wet heat of the tongue was chased by the light sharpness of teeth. The muscles contracted involuntarily as he lifted his head to watch, pushing the dark curls out of his way.
He almost caught the glimmer of dark eyes through the downcast lashes, but suddenly, a deft combination of tongue and teeth, and the top button of his jeans was free of its loop. “Jesus!” he gasped, fingers tightening instinctively, and the wolfish little grin as the job was finished made his mouth go dry. He let his head fall back as his hips lifted for the accommodating hands. Charlie had disappeared onto the floor to deal with his shoes and socks, and for a brief moment, Ian wondered whether that innocence was just as practiced as those occasional flashes of skill.
But then a small, warm body flowed up onto the bed next to him, and the armful of wriggling enthusiasm that he got made him suspect that genius and ingenuity could manifest themselves in many ways with this one, regardless of real-world experience.
* * *
Charlie grinned widely and then softened his expression as he caressed Ian's cheek with the back of his hand. He licked his lips and then gave Ian a long, tender kiss. He played gently with his tongue, tasting and exploring.
His second kiss was a little more heated. He let his hand curl around the back of Ian's neck before slowly drifting along his arm and finally cupping his ass. He squeezed once, gently, and pulled him a little closer.
* * *
Ian ran his fingers through the long hair as they kissed, slowing down the eager tongue as he let the curls drop and spring back into form. His hand worked rhythmically down to the heated nape as his other made its way down underneath the boxer briefs, over the little ass that fit so easily into his hand.
A small squeak escaped Charlie and his teeth nipped Ian's lower lip as he squeezed, and Ian's eyes closed on a sudden surge of arousal at the wet slip of Charlie's cock against his wrist as he moved his hand around. His own clothes were increasingly uncomfortable, and putting as short a leash on his impatience as he was able, he pushed down the clinging damp knit.
Rising on his knees a little unsteadily on the mattress, he stripped off the last of Charlie's clothes and tossed them on the floor, stopping a moment to stroke the young man's thigh as a moment of insecurity flashed across his face. "Stop it, Charlie," he said, a mixture of tenderness and authority, to which Charlie seemed to respond, relaxing.
A smile quirked his mouth, and Ian slid off the end of the bed to rid himself of the last of his own clothes. As he returned to Charlie, he urged him up the bed, against the pillows and slid one leg between his as he eased down, half on top of him.
"Too much?" he asked, and Charlie shook his head, reaching up to put his arms around his neck, hips hitching slightly, involuntarily as they kissed.
"What do you want, Charlie?" he asked, moving with him as his hand stroked his side, down to the knee curving against his hip.
White teeth worried the pretty pink bow of Charlie's lower lip, and Ian almost groaned, his hips moving a little harder, pushing his erection against the soft skin and stimulating hair of the belly beneath him, his thigh increasing its pressure. The small hands gripped his shoulder blades. "This is good, yeah?" he asked breathlessly, eyebrows drawn a little tight over the deep eyes.
Ian grinned. "Yeah, this is good," he agreed, kissing him hard. Charlie relaxed, responding to the deep kiss, his legs opening willingly for Ian to move between them. Ian gauged the expressive face carefully as he aligned their bodies, making sure that the much smaller man did not feel trapped, but as one hand relaxed on his shoulder blades, the other slid up, fingers into the short-cropped hair to pull him down into another deep, hard, slow kiss to match the rhythm and flow of their bodies.
* * *
Charlie moaned, his body arching against Ian's. He loved these kinds of kisses. Deep, drugging kisses that left him hungry for more. His hand curled around the back of Ian's neck, keeping him in place as he kissed him again and again. The kisses increased in urgency until Charlie started to make helpless, needy sounds of pleasure, his body thrusting up against Ian's a little more forcefully.
Ian slowly changed the tenor of the kisses, each one a little less urgent than the one before until they were both calmer. Before Charlie could start to worry Ian smiled, growled playfully, and kissed him again. The hand that wasn't tangled in Charlie's hair began to explore the smaller body, blunt fingers tracing lightly defined muscles.
He gave Charlie one last, hungry kiss before starting to nibble his way down that long, graceful throat.
* * *
Charlie's head arched back into the soft pillows, and as Ian's teeth grazed across his pulse, Charlie's fingernails dragged involuntarily across the smooth skin of his broad shoulders. Ian shivered slightly
at the sensation, sliding one hand down the hip and thigh beneath him, pressing back up against the growth of hair to elicit a low moan and the tightening of long fingers in the short hair at the nape of
his neck.
His tongue probed the slightly sweaty hollow at the base of the long throat, his lips closing on the small knob of collarbone in a suckling kiss as his hand curved around the knee and pulled the thigh higher across his hip. He spread his knees for a bit more leverage, and the long fingers tensed and relaxed on his nape and shoulders in rhythm with his movements. As his tempo increased, the reactive
caress became more like kneading, guiding, conducting, deepening and slowing... He nuzzled down through dark hair, unusual and exotic in his experience, and as he headed down the heaving sternum, he slipped and Charlie froze. Ian could feel the trembling in the thighs around his hips, and he reached down with a warm, caressing hand, readjusting them along Charlie's fluttering belly as he lifted up to kiss his mouth softly.
"Don't worry, Charlie," he murmured, brushing the ringlets back from the sweaty forehead with his thumb as he started to move again. "I'm not going to push you." He kissed the strong bridge of the nose and lifted up, arching a little harder as he slid his hand around into the small of his back. "Do you want to be on top?" He caught the wide eyes and saw himself reflected, still the predator in the intensity of his focus, despite the softness of his expression.
Charlie caught his swollen lower lip between his teeth, and for a moment, Ian was sure the kid was going to go soft or cry and push him away, but instead, the teeth raked across the soft, deeply pinkened
flesh as the eyes fluttered closed and the long throat arched. His feet scrabbling a bit on the satin duvet cover before finding purchase, Charlie shook his head, keening almost inaudibly as he lifted hips beneath Ian's superior weight.
Ian groaned softly, meeting the movement as they found the rhythm again. The short, chewed nails left broken tracks on his back, and he felt the tension and perspiration building between them. "Jesus, Charlie!" he gasped blasphemously as one small hand pressed hard down against his tailbone, breaking his rhythm for a moment that nearly took him over the edge. The impish, shy smile that came over the strong features was impossible to resist as the thick lashes lifted halfway over gleaming dark eyes, and Ian laughed as he half-fell onto his elbow against the pillow, changing the angle just enough for Charlie to sling one leg over his hip and thigh, dry fingertips rasping just across the base of his spine. The fingers of his supporting arm reaching out to wind around the wooden spindles in the headboard, and Charlie nipped his shoulder, his fingertips dipping closer to the cleft.
"Brat!" panted Ian into the curls, and Charlie turned to nip at his throat a little harder before sucking hard, moving harder. That was going to bruise, and Ian wondered, very briefly, why that didn't piss him off the way it normally might, but then he brought his other hand up to the headboard as he rolled fully on top of Charlie again. His elbow caught the long curls, and he felt the involuntary flinch, murmuring softly, "Sorry," as Charlie shook his head, lying back against the pillows.
"'S okay," he said absently, face flushed beneath the sheen of perspiration, lips deep red as Ian pulled a stray curl out of his mouth, smoothing the long hair out of the way as he rubbed his thumb across the heated cheekbone. The long lashes fluttered closed as Charlie lifted his chin and turned, taking the big thumb into his mouth in a hot, subtle suckling that set Ian's spine on fire like a string of firecrackers.
* * *
"Charlie," Ian groaned. Charlie smiled a little but didn't release Ian's thumb from his mouth. He liked the reaction he was getting, and he liked the taste of Ian's skin. Charlie spent some time becoming acquainted with the texture and taste of Ian's thumb before he exchanged it for his trigger finger, grinning at Ian's groan of pleasure and the slight thrust of his hips.
Charlie continued to suck on Ian's finger while his free hand resumed wandering his body. He gently cupped his ass, then slowly drew his hand up, dry fingers ghosting over his cleft. Ian growled and took his finger from Charlie's mouth, replacing it with his tongue. Charlie moaned, body arching to rub against Ian as he sucked greedily on his tongue. He felt the vibration of Ian's laughter in his chest and that only caused him to moan louder.
He whimpered when Ian finally broke the kiss, but then a massive hand was in his curls and Ian's hot mouth was fastened on his neck. Charlie turned his head a little to give him better access. Right now he didn't care if Ian left a mark or not.
* * *
Ian dragged his his teeth slowly across stubbled skin, then sealed his mouth at the curve of neck and shoulder, his body pressing Charlie hard into the bed. The instinct to punish the impudence was mingled with amusement and not a little gratitude for the pleasure, though a dark glimmer ran through his thoughts as he sucked. What will your brother think of this, little professor?
The long fingers tightened on his shoulder and hip as he increased the pressure, and the long neck extended in a low moan that made his hips hitch harder against the smaller body. He felt the throb against his belly, and ran his hand up the underside of the thigh against his hip, against the growth of hair, provoking a deep shudder and another, louder moan as his hand tightened on the yielding curve of muscle. The hand at his shoulder shook as it moved to shove through his short hair, holding on.
Ian realized that the whooshing sound in his ears was his own breath, rushing through his nostrils as he fought for control, and he broke the suction, panting hoarsely. The small body under him shuddered, fighting for friction, and Ian pushed up just slightly on his elbow, sliding the opposite knee higher to ease his weight.
Charlie's soft cry was raw with relief, and his fingers dug into Ian's broad back, bitten nails skittering over sweaty skin. As Ian caught his breath, he worried the rising bruise with his teeth and tongue, his slow, surging tempo in counterpoint to Charlie's quickening pace.
As Ian used the hand in Charlie's curls to expose the other side of the long neck to his teeth, he realized that somehow he had missed the convergence of their rhythm and Charlie was pulling him quicker and quicker toward a climax. A soft whimper grew to a rough keening in his ear, and as he felt the hot, wet pulsing between them, what began as a low growl of protest rose to a roar of completion.
They lay without moving for several long minutes. The beating of Charlie's heart and his ragged intake of breath seemed unnaturally loud in the otherwise silent room. Ian recovered first, of course. But he waited until Charlie groaned and pushed himself up to look at the clock before he moved. He had enough time for a shower if he didn't linger. He didn't particularly want to give up Ian's company, but he also didn't want to get on a flight while covered in his own come.
He looked glanced over at Ian, feeling absurdly aware of his own nakedness now that the sex was over. Ian had nothing to be self-concious about, and if the look on his face was any indication, he knew it, too. He was suddenly uncomfortably reminded of high school gym. He'd always hated having to change with the other boys. He was so much smaller and less developed and they never let him forget it. He shook his head slightly. He was being stupid. Ian was hardly going to laugh at him and try and force him into a locker. Even if he could manage it without breaking a sweat.
Charlie cocked his head to the side, trying to imagine what Ian would have been like in high school.
"Thinking deep thoughts, professor?" Ian asked, voice still slightly husky.
He almost asked. After all, if there was any time Ian might be willing to talk about his past, and he'd never actually said he wasn't, it was during the post orgasmic haze. His courage failed him at the last minute and instead he said, "I should get a shower before I head to the airport. Would um--would you like to join me?" he asked, hoping his voice sounded more confident than he thought. "In the shower, I mean."
"Sure, Charlie. If you're sure there's room."
"I think we can make it work." He grinned and forced himself off the bed.
When Charlie opened his eyes he was greeted with the sight of that same watercolor painting that seemed to be in at least half the hotel rooms he'd ever stayed in. He closed his eyes again and raised his arms above his head to stretch luxuriously.
"Good morning, Professor," an amused voice said quietly.
Charlie's eyes snapped open and he sat up, blinking in thankfully short-lived confusion at the man nextto him. The club. Coffee. Ian. Ian who was apparently as naked under the sheets as Charlie was. He blushed and pulled the sheets snugly around his waist. It was irrational to be shy about his body now, after Ian had already seen everything there was to see and touched nearly everything there was to touch. Unfortunately, his emotions remained as impervious to logic as ever. "You're still here," he said, unable to mask the surprise in his voice. Fortunately, Ian either wasn't offended or chose to hide it. "I'm still here," he agreed.
He barely managed to stop himself from asking why and he desperately wished he were more awake. Charlie was not a morning person. The only times he was bright-eyed and bushy tailed in the morning were when he'd never gone to sleep the night before. Normally it took him a good 20-30 minutes to really wake up, a process that always seemed to take even longer when he woke up in unfamiliar surroundings. Usually, it wasn't a problem, it was something he could plan for. But of course he hadn't planned for this and the sluggish pace of his thoughts was frustrating.
Charlie glanced over at Ian and offered a tentative smile as he ran one hand through his unruly curls. "I'm not uh--" he coughed, even more embarrassed now. "I'm not very good at this. In fact I--I haven't really had one of these conversations before. But you probably guessed that." He splayed his hand on the bedspread to keep himself from wringing them together, a sure sign of his distress.
"It's okay, Charlie." Ian's hand on his leg felt warm, even through the sheets of the bed. "Would you like me to go?"
Charlie cocked his head to the side, considering. Ian, of course, had probably been up long before Charlie was no doubt completely clearheaded. Even though he had more than half expected to wake up alone, he found that despite his embarrassment, he wasn't actually disappointed or unhappy that Ian had stayed. A little confused, maybe, curious even, but not unhappy. "No," Charlie said softly. "No, I'd like you to say--if that's okay with you."
Ian smiled, and so Charlie knew his answer even before he said the words. "It's okay with me." He found himself relaxing, reassured by the fact that Ian seemed to be taking all of this in stride, that he wasn't offended or impatient with Charlie's fumblings for the right things to say and do. On impulse Charlie leaned over and placed a fleeting kiss on Ian's lips.
"Do you want to do breakfast or something? I think I told you that my flight doesn't leave until late tonight but I don't want you to feel like you have to stay with me all day. Not that I'd mind hanging out with you," he added hastily. "I think it would be nice, I just -- I know you're busy and - - "
"Charlie," Ian interrupted, the big hand moving from his leg to gently squeeze his arm. "Relax. I still no how to say no, too. Breakfast sounds good."
"Yeah? Okay, I'll just--do you mind if I take a shower first?"
"Of course not." Ian snagged the white hotel robe from where it had been tossed on the floor the night before and Charlie accepted it gratefully. He got dressed and picked up the complimentary newspaper outside the door, bringing it back to the bed so Ian would have something to do while Charlie showered.
"I won't be long."
"Take your time."
And so he did. He allowed himself to linger under the hot water, using the time to try and wake up as well as to get clean. It wasn't until he'd lathered up his hair that he realized not inviting Ian to share the shower with him could be perceived as rude. Well, too late now, and truthfully, he wasn't ready for that kind of intimacy again so soon. He racked his brain for something they could do after breakfast that Ian might enjoy but the only thing he could think of was a trip to the shooting range. There had to be one within driving distance.
Ian used the shower after Charlie did, something that left him surprised for reasons he couldn't quite pin down. Charlie took his turn reading the paper and then they left the hotel in favor of a restaurant Ian knew of that was within walking distance.
"I thought maybe we could try going to a gun range after breakfast. That is, if you're interested."
"Thought you didn't believe in guns," Ian teased.
"I still don't," Charlie said lightly. "But I recognize them as a necessary evil for people in your line of work. And you were right about having first hand experience."
"A little right?"
Charlie grinned. "Yeah. A little right."
* * *
The shower, a little fresh air (such as was to be had in the vicinity of DuPont Circle during rush hour), and a big mug of black coffee brightened the little professor considerably. Charlie Eppes was obviously not an easy or early riser, and Ian was amused and disconcertedly attracted by the mix of childlike muzziness and masculine grumpiness.
Foregoing the overpriced blandness of the hotel restaurant, they walked to a mom & pop diner in Adams Morgan, not even talking as Ian adjusted his stride to Charlie’s slightly sleepy gait. His hands were thrust into the deep front pockets of jeans that rode loosely on his hips beneath the untucked tails of a blue pin-striped Oxford shirt, his shoulders rounded into an oversized navy fleece jacket with an unobtrusive FBI embroidered monogram on the left breast. The damp curls frizzed wildly in the morning fog, and Ian tucked his fingers into his palm, letting the prick of his nails quell the impulse to rest his hand on the dark head. The silence was a little unnervingly comfortable. Edgerton was little more used to knowing his partners personally than Charlie; even less accustomed to attraction that seemed to have increased after the acquisition. The tenderness was almost entirely new, and something he hadn’t felt in years.
Seated in a booth, they started with a large infusion of caffeine, and Charlie took only a brief look at the menu before ordering a bagel with lox and cream cheese. Not knowing the Eppes family well enough to gauge how assiduously they kept kosher, Ian took the safe route, foregoing the eggs and bacon for a bagel himself.
Still a little curled in on himself - a prey animal’s protective trait that roused a peculiar protectiveness in the predator - Charlie warmed his hands around the oversized mug and looked up at Ian through his lashes before raising his head. Good God, could that be as innocent as it looked, or was it rehearsed? he wondered.
“You don’t have to work today?” he asked, lifting his mug to blow across the steaming liquid. The action of pursing the full lips drew attention to the ridiculously pretty mouth, and Ian was suddenly sure that Charlie was oblivious to the effect.
He turned his own coffee cup by the handle and picked it up, hiding the little flare of attraction in an amused smirk as he answered. “No. I’m between assignments at the moment. When I’m on, I’m on twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. The Bureau’s pretty good about giving me downtime between jobs.”
Something flickered in the black-coffee eyes. “Um - if you don’t, like, want to go to…”
Ian shook his head slightly, one corner of his mouth quirking up further. “I want to go,” he said softly, treading on the trailed-off escape clause. He didn’t know if his own eyes twinkled or glittered, but he could tell from the faint relaxation of the curved shoulders and the dilation of the dark eyes that Charlie not only understood the subtext, he was receptive.
* * *
Charlie nodded and subconsciously licked his lips as he was briefly overwhelmed by sensory memories of the night before. Large hands hot against his flushed skin, strength mixed with a surprising amount of tenderness, and the combined sounds of their pleasure. He quickly looked down at the table, shy and a little embaressed. He was sure that Ian hadn't missed the slight squirm in his seat.
It was more than a little disconcerting to realize that the next time he had sex with Ian, and it looked like there would be a next time, he really wanted to take his time, explore the larger man's body with gentle touches and soft kisses, learn what gave him pleasure not just because he wanted to get them both off but because he genuinely wanted to know. It was a new feeling and he wasn't entirely sure he liked it. He wrapped his hands more securely around the mug to keep himself from reaching out to touch olive skin.
Fortunately, their food arrived a few minutes later, distracting Charlie from his contemplation. He knew himself well enough to know that if he let himself think too much about what would happen after the gun range he'd overthink it, make himself nervous and start second guessing whether he'd read the signs right. Or else he'd really start worrying about the feelings Ian seemed to bring out and probably run the other way.
"So tell me, what does a CalSci professor do for fun besides math?"
Charlie took another bite of his bagel and considered his answer. "I like going hiking," he said after a moment. "The solitude can be nice, helps clear my head." He told Ian about some of his favorite hiking trails and from there the conversation turned to reading material (Ian was surprisingly well read), then movies, music, and back to the outdoors. They didn't talk about work or their families, though Charlie wasn't sure whether that was deliberate on Ian's part or not. The time passed quickly and Charlie was almost surprised to discover that they'd finished breakfast and were ready to move on to the gun range. Charlie insisted on paying for breakfast because Ian had paid for the coffee the night before.
The urge to touch Ian had subsided a bit while they talked but it hadn't completely disappeared. Charlie waited until they were in the taxi before letting his knee brush against Ian's, not quite daring to touch bare skin. Ian didn't move away so Charlie kept that point of contact until they reached the range.
He let the sniper make the arrangements for guns and ammunition. The gun range wasn't really Ian's home ground, he suspected that like Don, Ian's true home ground was the field. He automatically tried to jerk his thoughts way from his brother. Don would never know about his -- time -- with Ian, but if Don ever found out he'd slept with an FBI agent he'd be unhappy if not outright furious. Then again, given Don's own dating history with Terry Lake, Kim Hall, and arguably Nadine Hodges, Don was hardly in a position to lecture about the ethics of mixing business and pleasure.
"Hey, you ready?" Ian asked, touching his shoulder gently.
"Yeah." He offered a smile and followed Ian to the target area.
"You've done this before, right?"
"Twice," Charlie confirmed.
"You were at a range twice?" Ian asked, taking the gun out of its case.
"No, just the one time. I shot twice." Ian raised an eyebrow and Charlie shrugged uncomfortably. "Don wasn't exactly happy about it. He--sometimes he's protective, you know?"
* * *
Ian bit he inside of his lower lip, looking down as he checked the gun to cover. He knew better than to smile, but he couldn't help it. 'Sometimes he's protective, you know?' Yeah, I know, sometimes the earth goes around the sun, he thought wryly. He suspected that Charlie was so used to his big brother's protectiveness that he never really noticed the way it surrounded him - a neon-glowing cloud of ferocious emotion emanating from the otherwise calm, cool, and collected FBI agent, enveloping his oblivious younger sibling. It would, of course, be like noticing that the sky was blue or the grass was green for someone who had undoubtedly lived in that precious bubble all his life.
He could just see Don taking the gun impatiently out of his brother's hands, out of his reach. He also suspected that Agent Eppes was uncomfortably cognizant of the symbolism of that little act. There had been moments during the investigation in Los Angeles where Ian was struck by the tenderness under the impatience in the way Eppes handled his little brother, the way he spoke to him, the way he touched him. That panicked dash across the plaza to pick him up off the pavement and into the safety of his arms was not nearly as telling as the way his thumb would move over the bare skin exposed between collar and curls, parchment thin and whitened over arched vertebrae at the nape of his neck, as he bent over calculations, or especially the way Don would catch Charlie's wrist in passing to say something as he entered or left a room, ducking his head to make sure the number-hazed eyes focused on his.
Ian ran the tip of his tongue over his lower lip as he made a mostly unnecessary small adjustment on the rifle and took out the tripod. Charlie, who had been a little fidgety, rubbing his fingers along the side seams of his jeans as if to rid them of non-existent chalkdust, stepped forward to help him, and he was more clever at it than the experience sniper had expected, snapping bits of the apparatus efficiently into place. Within a matter of seconds, the rifle was on its mount, and long fingers brushed lightly along the gleaming metal before dropping away.
Ian took one pair of ear protectors out of the case and almost playfully put them over Charlie's head. He was treated to a remarkable grin as the ear pieces were tugged into place, and when the headband proved slightly resistant to those clever fingers, he reached in to adjust it snugly. If that gave him an opportunity to brush his fingertips through the glossy curls, then perhaps he could relate to the elder Eppes's tendency to touch.
Donning his own ear protectors, Ian took up his position behind the gun, checking the sights, the stability of the tripod, the target, then stepped back. "All yours, professor."
* * *
Charlie swallowed, blissfully unaware of the way his Adam's apple gave away his nervousness, and stepped forward. Obviously, there was a significant height difference between himself and Agent Edgerton, and he had to stretch up and over the barrier a little uncomfortably.
"Wait," said Ian immediately, his big hands clasping Charlie's hips and pulling him back slightly. "You can't be off balance. Heels down. Widen your stance a little…" Edgerton's boot between his ankles nudged his feet apart; it should have been intrusive, but he managed to make it almost gentle. Charlie felt a tingle spread up his spine, over his scalp as Ian's body brushed against his, hands coming up to press down on his shoulders, thumbs probing the taut muscles at the base of his neck. "Relax."
Charlie tilted his head from side to side, trying to relax, trying to ignore the warm nearness of the other body. A body he already knew better than any save his own… He had an uncomfortable flash of Don standing stiffly behind him, hands hard, almost punishing at times as he adjusted Charlie's stance at the rifle. Don, usually so careful with him, was rushing him from the moment they walked into the range. Edgerton moved almost as swiftly, but efficiently, no rushing. His hand smoothed down Charlie's back as he stepped to the side, folding his arms to wait for Charlie to take his shot.
He still flinched at the recoil, and his shot barely caught the edge of the paper target, well outside the live area. He felt the heat of his blush creeping up his throat, reaching his ears before his cheeks, but he could see out of the corner of his eye that Edgerton didn't even smile. He simply nodded and spoke softly. "Take a deep breath. Try it again."
* * *
They were at the range for almost an hour. Ian never rushed him, never showed any sign of disappointment or impatience. He always spoke calmly, readjusted Charlie with gentle hands.
The first time he made a good shot he reacted the same way he had with Don, lifting his hands and grinning like an idiot as he watched them shake with adrenaline. Ian smiled, briefly holding Charlie's hands inside his larger, steady hands.
He was doing better by the time Ian decided to call it a day, but his hands and forearms were sore. He tried to hide it, but Ian must have noticed because he paused before putting the rifle away. "I can help you with that when we get back to the hotel," Ian said, rubbing Charlie's forearm lightly.
Charlie ducked his head and smiled shyly. "I'd like that."
* * *
Relaxing into the back seat of the cab, Ian was aware that Charlie was completely unaware of how wired he was, still zinging on adrenaline from his unaccustomed encounter with firearms and the undeniable sexual tension that had underlined the session. His knee bounced nervously, and as he leaned against the door, looking out at the traffic as if it were exotic to an LA boy, his hands were upturned, curled loosely like odd, pale flowers against his thighs. The long fingers twitched slightly, and Ian could almost feel the sympathetic tingling in his own hands.
***
Charlie jumped when strong fingers closed around his wrist, and he could feel his eyes flaring wide in astonishment, his heart tripping in his throat in panic as his hand was drawn into the encompassing warmth of two much bigger hands.
The corner of Ian's mouth quirked up as he dug his thumbs hard into the palm of his hand, and Charlie squeaked in surprise, instinctively trying to pull back from the pain that shot out his fingertips and up into his elbow and shoulder.
"Ssssh," soothed Ian, holding him firmly, working his thumbs in an insistent little circle, his strong fingers rubbing across the back of his hand. "Your hand is going to cramp up if you're not careful."
Charlie winced and tried to relax, panicked from the momentary thought that Agent Edgerton was trying to hold his hand in public and gasping at the pressure as Ian worked a slow spiral outward in his palm. As he lowered his shoulders and tried to ease the tension in his forearm, watching the progress warily, he could feel a warm shiver of pleasure seeping in under the pain. He looked up in amazement, and Edgerton's familiar slight smirk was blunted by the warmth in his eyes.
The big thumbs rubbed in sweeping circles across the relaxing palm, gradually lightening the intensity, and Charlie's eyelashes flickered as one thumb slipped down, brushing lightly across the heightened pulse in his exposed wrist.
"That'll be eighteen twenty-six," intoned the driver, bored.
* * *
Ian paid the cabdriver and they spent the trip to the hotel room in silence.
"I had a good time," Charlie said, once the door was shut.
"Yeah, me too. You're getting better handling that weapon."
"I've had good teachers," Charlie said, grinning as he stepped into Ian's personal space.
"Is that right?" Ian asked with his trademark smirk.
"Mmm. One of them even takes care of me after," Charlie said as Ian picked up his hand and started to massage it the same way he'd massaged his other hand in the taxi.
Ian smiled and continued to massage his hand in silence for a few minutes. "Better?" he asked quietly.
"Much," Charlie said, placing his newly freed hand on Ian's chest and stretching up for a kiss. Ian turned his head at the last second so Charlie ended up kissing his cheek rather than his lips. Charlie frowned but didn't comment. Instead he just rested his head against Ian's chest for a moment as Ian slipped one arm around his waist and brought the other up to stroke Charlie's hair.
Charlie lifted his head to look Ian in the eye. "Not so nervous this time," Ian commented softly.
"No," Charlie agreed, voice equally soft. This time Ian wouldn't have to tell him to slow down. Now he wanted to take his time, explore Ian's body and discover how to give him the most pleasure.
* * *
As tendrils of windblown curls wound themselves around, through, between his fingers, Ian looked down at the face resting against his chest -over the fierce eyebrows and aquiline nose to the long lashes and soft mouth-and felt a brief moment of panic. Why was he doing this? The last time he’d spent more than one night with anyone was…a very long time ago, indeed. But as the long fingers curled inward against his shirt, a soft gasp parting the full lips, he found that his thumb was rubbing gently in the hollow at the base of the skull, and he smiled, relaxing, curling the fingers of his free hand around the surprisingly narrow wrist on his chest. He rubbed his hand up the forearm, beneath the shirtsleeve, and the low moan surged through his body with a warmth he hadn’t felt in longer than…a very long time.
He chuckled softly, his hand pressing down Charlie’s back, squeezing gently as he drew back, taking both wrists in his hands to pull the pliant body across the floor. As they neared the bed, Charlie started to resist slightly, but Ian smiled as he sat on the edge. “Don’t worry,” he said softly, enjoying the rumble of his own voice in his body as he pulled Charlie between his knees and rubbed his forearms. “I’m not rushing. I’m not through taking care of you.”
Charlie smiled ruefully, a delightful blush staining his throat and cheeks, and Ian reached up to ease the cotton shirt off his shoulders and toss it on the bedside easy chair. His big hands rested on the narrow shoulders, and Charlie groaned despite himself when he kneaded the tense muscles.
Ian grinned and scooted back, making room. He turned the shoulders in his hands, and Charlie sat obediently, settling back with a momentarily distracting little wiggle. Although he was fairly certain it was innocent, Ian retaliated by running his hands along the jeans-clad thighs, ostensibly to guide him, his fingertips straying lightly into dangerous territory before dropping away.
A light shiver passed over Charlie’s skin, and Ian’s hands slid firmly down the bare arms, his cheek brushing tangled curls as he leaned forward to take the right forearm in both hands. Charlie relaxed his head against his shoulder, and the soft exhalation gusted against Ian’s cheek as his thumbs pressed hard down the lean, tight muscles.
* * *
Ian's touch was firm, at times even painful. But Charlie could tell he was both careful and thorough, talented, too. He could feel knots that had probably been there for years disintegrate under Ian's strong hands. He closed his eyes and groaned when Ian worked diligently on a particularly stubborn knot.
"You know," Ian said, and Charlie shivered at the near purr in his voice, "In order to do this properly I really need some lotion or oil. You didn't happen to bring any, did you?"
"Sorry, m--" he barely caught himself from saying what he'd been thinking -- maybe next time. That would have been embarrassing. More worrying was the realization that he was thinking in terms of a next time.
"Relax," Ian chided, apparently feeling the sudden tension in Charlie's body.
"I'm so--"
"Shh," Ian soothed. He worked in silence for a few minutes, finding every last knot in Charlie's back and arms. Then his touches became more gentle, even sensual.
* * *
Charlie's hands clasped his knees, bracing him for some of the harder treatment, but he relaxed as he felt Ian's hands gentling, hands moving over his back and shoulders almost as if smoothing out the wrinkles of his old T-shirt. He shivered even as he felt a flush as the huge hands curved over his shoulders, making him feel very small indeed, and continued their unhurried way down the short sleeves, gently squeezing his upper arms - Charlie tried not to feel the inadequacy of his biceps as the fingers and thumbs met, right there underneath in the groove between muscle and bone - before smoothing firmly down his forearms. His thumbs caught against the pulse points inside the wrists, his fingertips lightly tracing down the backs of his hand before stretching out to cover his own long, slender hands completely.
The larger body eased around him in an unmistakeable caress, a cheek resting against his hair as the fingers moved, sliding between Charlie's, clasping.
Charlie wet his lips with a nervous tongue and said unevenly, "That felt - amazing." He turned his head against the broad shoulder to see the strong profile so close to his. His heart gave a slight leap as he saw the short, dark lashes cast down against high cheekbones. "Thank you."
"My pleasure," murmured the big man, his voice rumbling in his chest like the purr of a big cat, and his eyes opened to look into Charlie's with a hint of the old, familiar predatory teasing.
With a light caress of his hands on the way, Ian stretched back on the newly-made bed, his arms above his head nearly reaching the pillows. Eyebrows drawing taut with uncertainty, Charlie turned onto his hands and knees, bridging Ian's strong hips and chest to look down into his eyes.
"Who takes care of you?" he asked softly.
* * *
Ian’s hand faltered slightly on its way up to stroke Charlie’s back. Even startled by the unexpected question, he felt oddly tender about the way the thin cotton of the nearly threadbare old T-shirt moved over skin and ribs and the slight softness around the middle. The man felt so young, even though Ian knew he was almost thirty, and only fourteen years younger than he was himself.
The concern in the dark eyes, in the question touched him more than he was comfortable with, and he put on his protective smirk.
“I take care of myself.”
“I know,” said Charlie softly, watching his fingertip drawing along the placket of his shirt, alongside the buttons, obviously a little chastened by the implicit, “Mind your own business,” in his response, but Ian could feel that familiar stubborness gathering in the spine beneath his caress. “But everybody needs someone to take care of them sometimes, even…”
“Even your brother?”
Charlie stiffened slightly, but then he looked up with that alarming clarity. “Of course he does. Especially when he thinks he doesn’t need it.”
Momentarily stunned by the simple certainty of those words, Ian reached up to push back the long curls falling into the remarkable face above him, and Charlie bent down toward him. Closing his eyes, he turned away, and the kiss landed on his cheek.
The tiny grunt of frustration made him smile, even as the soft lips and nascent stubble moved down along his jaw and the side of his neck. Ian smoothed his hands down the arching back, urging him down against him, and Charlie complied with minimal resistance, muscles still tensed as if for flight as the clever tongue found a particularly sensitive spot behind his ear.
Ian’s squirming was stilled by the almost soundless whisper against his ear, “Why won’t you let me kiss you?”
After the initial hesitation, Ian resumed his stroking along the tense back, urging him to soften against him. “You didn’t want to kiss me last night,” he replied with deceptive lightness. “That told me that you place a very high premium on that kind of intimacy.” His hand curved over the slight rise of Charlie’s rear, fingertips lightly drawing back up the seam of his jeans, provoking a soft gasp and wriggle. “I-I promised not to rush you.”
Charlie worked his arms underneath Ian’s shoulders against the bed, even as he lifted his head, tossing the curls out of his face like a girl as he met his eyes with direct challenge. “That’s not why.”
Ian raised an eyebrow, which he knew from the reflection in the dark eyes looked very controlled and wry, but which he knew from his slightly fluttering heart was surprise. “No,” he drawled slowly. “It’s not why.”
Charlie placed his hands on the bed to push up against him. “Tell me.”
“Because I didn’t want to give you the wrong impression.”
“Wrong impression?” he shot back almost before he was finished.
Ian felt trapped. What could he say? That he was afraid to let Charlie think he wanted more than just sex? That he was afraid that he did? That he was definitely not ready to do more than spend this afternoon in bed with a pretty boy? But that he knew that Charlie was so much more than just a pretty boy?
Damning the consequences, he reached up to shove his fingers almost roughly through the tangled curls and brought Charlie’s mouth hard down to his. Softening just as his tongue slid into yielding surprise and coffee-tinged heat.
* * *
Charlie stifled a squeak of surprise and let his eyes fall closed. He tasted like coffee, and something else, something subtler. Something spicy, or maybe smokey.
He played gently with Ian's tongue, surprisingly grateful that he was allowing this.
He gave a soft moan and pulled back a little, opening his eyes as he caressed Ian's cheek with the back of his hand. He brought his other hand to rest flat over his heart, just looking until it became too much and he lowered his head for another kiss.
He licked at Ian's bottom lip until he was granted entrance, and he took his time exploring that wet heat. His hand on Ian's chest curled slightly as the kiss became a little more heated and a little less gentle.
Charlie was almost afraid to pull away and explore the rest of Ian's body lest he not be allowed this intimacy a second time. But eventually the continual long strokes of his back soothed him and his body relaxed against Ian's. He brought a hand down to brace himself and slid up to kiss Ian's temple, his jaw, the pulse point of his throat.
He let his hand fall to the top button of Ian's shirt. "May I?" he asked quietly.
* * *
The shy question surprised him, but he tried not to show it, reaching out to take the ringlet that fell over Charlie's left eye and tuck it back behind his ear. "Sure."
The smile in Charlie's eyes warmed him before the lashes swept down. Two pairs of dark eyes followed the long fingers working open the top button, then the next, and Ian arched his neck, offering his throat to the soft mouth.
He caught his breath at the light grazing of the teeth along the stretched cord, the wet warmth of the tongue pressing against his pulse. His legs moved apart instinctively, gathering the smaller body closer as it relaxed against him, and his hand curved over the curly head, enjoying the twining of the resilient hair around and through his fingers as another button opened.
Slightly dry fingertips brushed over the broad flat of his chest, lingering for a moment over his tightening nipple before traveling down his ribs as the lightly stubbled cheek brushed his skin. Ian let his soft gasp encourage the younger man, his hand slipping down to rub between the shoulder blades in the thin shirt. A low hum followed the velvet tongue, circling down around his other nipple before the soft mouth closed, the tender suckling pulling his body into a surprised bow. How could something so simple provoke such a deep response?
Charlie slithered gracefully up Ian's body, suddenly tentative as he looked down into his eyes, and Ian smiled, sliding one hand over the warm, smooth skin beneath the T-shirt. He cradled the curly head in his big hand, bringing him down to another kiss.
Another soft purr rippled through Ian's body, causing him to wind one leg fully around the jeans-clad legs. Charlie's hands crept under his shirt to grasp his shoulders and hang on as Ian turned slowly, carefully, stretching him carefully on the bed beside him.
The big, dark eyes looked up at him, dilated and curious-not afraid, not seductive, almost wondering, and Ian groaned, drawing his forefinger lightly down the line of forehead, nose, lips-a light kiss tickling his skin-chin, and arching throat as he bent down to claim another kiss.
* * *
Charlie parted his lips, inviting Ian in. He kept one hand wrapped around Ian's shoulder, stroking the warm, bare skin. His other hand stroked up Ian's back, finally settling lightly on the nape of his neck.
He was amazed at the depth of tenderness he felt for the larger man. It was probably going to scare the hell out of him later, but that was later. He gave a soft moan of pleasure and then drew back a little. "Ian," he whispered.
"Shh," Ian soothed. His lips traced the same path his finger had taken, forehead to throat. He sucked lightly on the pulse point of Charlie's throat, not hard enough to mark, just hard enough to produce a sensation that caused Charlie to shiver.
Charlie watched Ian's dark eyes as the large hand stroked his chest, light and tender. Ian's fingers curled around the hem of Charlie's shirt and he sat up a little to help Ian take it off. He shivered as warm hands caressed his skin and he claimed another kiss, wrapping his arms around Ian and drawing him down on top of him.
* * *
Ian tossed the faded T-shirt onto the floor, sliding his knee across Charlie's thigh as he eased himself down, cradling the smaller man in one arm as his other hand slid down the smooth back. The kisses melted into one another, and Ian shivered at the taste of the little moan he provoked by sliding his fingers into the back of the loose waistband of the old jeans. Shifting a little onto his elbow, he moved his hand around, rubbing his palm pleasurably across the crisp hair and yielding flesh.
He felt Charlie tense a little and nipped his lower lip before whispering a soothing, "Ssssh," and let his fingers slip down between denim and cotton knit, his thumb easing the button free of its hole, his fingertips lightly stroking the thick hair, the silky knit adding a subtle friction. Ian's thumb eased down the zipper, and Charlie's whimper was stifled by another kiss, even as his thighs moved instinctively apart, giving Ian's big hand the room to encompass and knead.
Running the tip of his tongue along the underside of Charlie's, he lifted his head just enough to look down into the huge, dilated dark eyes without stopping his firm caress.
When would he stop being amazed by the power of that curious, open gaze? The parted lips were dark red and swollen, the strong-featured face so paradoxically vulnerable, and then his heart tripped when the slight smile curved the full mouth.
"Okay?" he murmured, his thumb tracing the rising thrust beneath the soft boxer briefs, and the bob of the Adam's apple made him hesitate for a moment, before the blinding smile lit up the flushed face in its halo of dark curls.
"Oh, yeah." The husky chuckle vibrated through his body as one long-fingered hand grabbed his open shirt front and dragged him down for another kiss.
* * *
Charlie allowed some heat into his kiss, but he was careful not so show the full extent of his growing need. He still wanted to take his time, let himself explore. Too much heat too soon and he was likely to start rushing.
He nibbled on Ian's bottom lip and then lowered his head to start feasting on his neck, giving a soft hum of satisfaction when Ian tilted his head to give him better access.
When he made his way to the junction of neck and shoulder he pushed at Ian's shirt until he managed to get it off. He picked up Ian's free hand, momentarily distracted by the differences in size, strength and color, the different placement of their calluses.
* * *
Ian spread his fingers, allowing Charlie's long, slender fingers to slide between, at first just that tormentingly sensual brush of fingertips against webbing, then the edges of nails dragged lightly up the sides of fingers.
His eyes never left the strong, transparent features, watching those big eyes watch the slide of fingers against fingers. He couldn't help the shiver of pleasure, the subtle arch of his hips against the smaller body at the whisper of fingerprint against fingerprint.
As Charlie followed the brush his fingertips down to trace the rifle calluses on Ian's palm, his lashes shadowing his flushed cheeks, and Ian fought down the impulse to rush. The long, slender fingers curled around his wrist, bringing his palm to the soft mouth, lips brushing across roughened skin, and just as Ian was starting to feel a bit uncomfortable with the wondering innocence of the caress, the tip of a tongue traced his lifeline just a fraction before the dark eyes met his, hazed by downcast lashes just a trace of uncertainty that sublimated into pure deviltry when their gaze locked.
A strangled sound, half groan, half laugh, caught in Ian's throat and he rolled quickly onto his back, free arm wrapping around Charlie to pull him on top.
The giggle vibrated pleasurably through him, and he reached up to thread his big fingers through the thick curls, giving a little shake as if to a naughty puppy. But he couldn't help grinning in return, catching the smiling mouth in a playfully messy kiss.
* * *
Charlie grinned and drew back just enough to look at Ian for a moment before bowing his head and claiming another kiss, more heated than their last. He liked Ian's playfulness and the feel of his strong body beneath him.
He tugged on Ian's arms until they were raised above his head and he let his fingers trace muscles and caress skin. He placed a few kisses, shoulder, bicep, just under his armpit before bringing his hands back down, letting Ian wrap his fingers in his curls once more.
He started to slide down Ian's chest, kissing and licking at old scars, mouthing his dark nipples until they were hard pebbles. Long fingers caressed Ian's sides, tracing his ribs.
He wanted to map every centimeter of Ian's body. He wanted to learn how to give him pleasure, how to make his breath catch, what he had to do to make him moan, say Charlie's name. There wasn't enough time for all the careful experimenting and verification he wanted to do.
Charlie let his hands move ahead of him now, his right hand gently caressing Ian through his jeans while Charlie pressed a kiss to his stomach.
* * *
Ian eased his thighs apart around Charlie as he slid down. The soft mouth left a trail of slow kisses below his navel as the clever fingers traced lightly, trailing across denim and toothed metal, then pressed hard, following a line just to the side of where he wanted them.
Air escaped his lungs in a surprised, frustrated gust, his fingers tightening in wild curls, the skin of his belly tingling under a teasing tongue. "God, you-"
Tongue pointed to follow the center line of his abdominal muscles, and the hand turned to cover, protectively at first, and then with subtle pressure, increasing as the wet heat of the tongue was chased by the light sharpness of teeth. The muscles contracted involuntarily as he lifted his head to watch, pushing the dark curls out of his way.
He almost caught the glimmer of dark eyes through the downcast lashes, but suddenly, a deft combination of tongue and teeth, and the top button of his jeans was free of its loop. “Jesus!” he gasped, fingers tightening instinctively, and the wolfish little grin as the job was finished made his mouth go dry. He let his head fall back as his hips lifted for the accommodating hands. Charlie had disappeared onto the floor to deal with his shoes and socks, and for a brief moment, Ian wondered whether that innocence was just as practiced as those occasional flashes of skill.
But then a small, warm body flowed up onto the bed next to him, and the armful of wriggling enthusiasm that he got made him suspect that genius and ingenuity could manifest themselves in many ways with this one, regardless of real-world experience.
* * *
Charlie grinned widely and then softened his expression as he caressed Ian's cheek with the back of his hand. He licked his lips and then gave Ian a long, tender kiss. He played gently with his tongue, tasting and exploring.
His second kiss was a little more heated. He let his hand curl around the back of Ian's neck before slowly drifting along his arm and finally cupping his ass. He squeezed once, gently, and pulled him a little closer.
* * *
Ian ran his fingers through the long hair as they kissed, slowing down the eager tongue as he let the curls drop and spring back into form. His hand worked rhythmically down to the heated nape as his other made its way down underneath the boxer briefs, over the little ass that fit so easily into his hand.
A small squeak escaped Charlie and his teeth nipped Ian's lower lip as he squeezed, and Ian's eyes closed on a sudden surge of arousal at the wet slip of Charlie's cock against his wrist as he moved his hand around. His own clothes were increasingly uncomfortable, and putting as short a leash on his impatience as he was able, he pushed down the clinging damp knit.
Rising on his knees a little unsteadily on the mattress, he stripped off the last of Charlie's clothes and tossed them on the floor, stopping a moment to stroke the young man's thigh as a moment of insecurity flashed across his face. "Stop it, Charlie," he said, a mixture of tenderness and authority, to which Charlie seemed to respond, relaxing.
A smile quirked his mouth, and Ian slid off the end of the bed to rid himself of the last of his own clothes. As he returned to Charlie, he urged him up the bed, against the pillows and slid one leg between his as he eased down, half on top of him.
"Too much?" he asked, and Charlie shook his head, reaching up to put his arms around his neck, hips hitching slightly, involuntarily as they kissed.
"What do you want, Charlie?" he asked, moving with him as his hand stroked his side, down to the knee curving against his hip.
White teeth worried the pretty pink bow of Charlie's lower lip, and Ian almost groaned, his hips moving a little harder, pushing his erection against the soft skin and stimulating hair of the belly beneath him, his thigh increasing its pressure. The small hands gripped his shoulder blades. "This is good, yeah?" he asked breathlessly, eyebrows drawn a little tight over the deep eyes.
Ian grinned. "Yeah, this is good," he agreed, kissing him hard. Charlie relaxed, responding to the deep kiss, his legs opening willingly for Ian to move between them. Ian gauged the expressive face carefully as he aligned their bodies, making sure that the much smaller man did not feel trapped, but as one hand relaxed on his shoulder blades, the other slid up, fingers into the short-cropped hair to pull him down into another deep, hard, slow kiss to match the rhythm and flow of their bodies.
* * *
Charlie moaned, his body arching against Ian's. He loved these kinds of kisses. Deep, drugging kisses that left him hungry for more. His hand curled around the back of Ian's neck, keeping him in place as he kissed him again and again. The kisses increased in urgency until Charlie started to make helpless, needy sounds of pleasure, his body thrusting up against Ian's a little more forcefully.
Ian slowly changed the tenor of the kisses, each one a little less urgent than the one before until they were both calmer. Before Charlie could start to worry Ian smiled, growled playfully, and kissed him again. The hand that wasn't tangled in Charlie's hair began to explore the smaller body, blunt fingers tracing lightly defined muscles.
He gave Charlie one last, hungry kiss before starting to nibble his way down that long, graceful throat.
* * *
Charlie's head arched back into the soft pillows, and as Ian's teeth grazed across his pulse, Charlie's fingernails dragged involuntarily across the smooth skin of his broad shoulders. Ian shivered slightly
at the sensation, sliding one hand down the hip and thigh beneath him, pressing back up against the growth of hair to elicit a low moan and the tightening of long fingers in the short hair at the nape of
his neck.
His tongue probed the slightly sweaty hollow at the base of the long throat, his lips closing on the small knob of collarbone in a suckling kiss as his hand curved around the knee and pulled the thigh higher across his hip. He spread his knees for a bit more leverage, and the long fingers tensed and relaxed on his nape and shoulders in rhythm with his movements. As his tempo increased, the reactive
caress became more like kneading, guiding, conducting, deepening and slowing... He nuzzled down through dark hair, unusual and exotic in his experience, and as he headed down the heaving sternum, he slipped and Charlie froze. Ian could feel the trembling in the thighs around his hips, and he reached down with a warm, caressing hand, readjusting them along Charlie's fluttering belly as he lifted up to kiss his mouth softly.
"Don't worry, Charlie," he murmured, brushing the ringlets back from the sweaty forehead with his thumb as he started to move again. "I'm not going to push you." He kissed the strong bridge of the nose and lifted up, arching a little harder as he slid his hand around into the small of his back. "Do you want to be on top?" He caught the wide eyes and saw himself reflected, still the predator in the intensity of his focus, despite the softness of his expression.
Charlie caught his swollen lower lip between his teeth, and for a moment, Ian was sure the kid was going to go soft or cry and push him away, but instead, the teeth raked across the soft, deeply pinkened
flesh as the eyes fluttered closed and the long throat arched. His feet scrabbling a bit on the satin duvet cover before finding purchase, Charlie shook his head, keening almost inaudibly as he lifted hips beneath Ian's superior weight.
Ian groaned softly, meeting the movement as they found the rhythm again. The short, chewed nails left broken tracks on his back, and he felt the tension and perspiration building between them. "Jesus, Charlie!" he gasped blasphemously as one small hand pressed hard down against his tailbone, breaking his rhythm for a moment that nearly took him over the edge. The impish, shy smile that came over the strong features was impossible to resist as the thick lashes lifted halfway over gleaming dark eyes, and Ian laughed as he half-fell onto his elbow against the pillow, changing the angle just enough for Charlie to sling one leg over his hip and thigh, dry fingertips rasping just across the base of his spine. The fingers of his supporting arm reaching out to wind around the wooden spindles in the headboard, and Charlie nipped his shoulder, his fingertips dipping closer to the cleft.
"Brat!" panted Ian into the curls, and Charlie turned to nip at his throat a little harder before sucking hard, moving harder. That was going to bruise, and Ian wondered, very briefly, why that didn't piss him off the way it normally might, but then he brought his other hand up to the headboard as he rolled fully on top of Charlie again. His elbow caught the long curls, and he felt the involuntary flinch, murmuring softly, "Sorry," as Charlie shook his head, lying back against the pillows.
"'S okay," he said absently, face flushed beneath the sheen of perspiration, lips deep red as Ian pulled a stray curl out of his mouth, smoothing the long hair out of the way as he rubbed his thumb across the heated cheekbone. The long lashes fluttered closed as Charlie lifted his chin and turned, taking the big thumb into his mouth in a hot, subtle suckling that set Ian's spine on fire like a string of firecrackers.
* * *
"Charlie," Ian groaned. Charlie smiled a little but didn't release Ian's thumb from his mouth. He liked the reaction he was getting, and he liked the taste of Ian's skin. Charlie spent some time becoming acquainted with the texture and taste of Ian's thumb before he exchanged it for his trigger finger, grinning at Ian's groan of pleasure and the slight thrust of his hips.
Charlie continued to suck on Ian's finger while his free hand resumed wandering his body. He gently cupped his ass, then slowly drew his hand up, dry fingers ghosting over his cleft. Ian growled and took his finger from Charlie's mouth, replacing it with his tongue. Charlie moaned, body arching to rub against Ian as he sucked greedily on his tongue. He felt the vibration of Ian's laughter in his chest and that only caused him to moan louder.
He whimpered when Ian finally broke the kiss, but then a massive hand was in his curls and Ian's hot mouth was fastened on his neck. Charlie turned his head a little to give him better access. Right now he didn't care if Ian left a mark or not.
* * *
Ian dragged his his teeth slowly across stubbled skin, then sealed his mouth at the curve of neck and shoulder, his body pressing Charlie hard into the bed. The instinct to punish the impudence was mingled with amusement and not a little gratitude for the pleasure, though a dark glimmer ran through his thoughts as he sucked. What will your brother think of this, little professor?
The long fingers tightened on his shoulder and hip as he increased the pressure, and the long neck extended in a low moan that made his hips hitch harder against the smaller body. He felt the throb against his belly, and ran his hand up the underside of the thigh against his hip, against the growth of hair, provoking a deep shudder and another, louder moan as his hand tightened on the yielding curve of muscle. The hand at his shoulder shook as it moved to shove through his short hair, holding on.
Ian realized that the whooshing sound in his ears was his own breath, rushing through his nostrils as he fought for control, and he broke the suction, panting hoarsely. The small body under him shuddered, fighting for friction, and Ian pushed up just slightly on his elbow, sliding the opposite knee higher to ease his weight.
Charlie's soft cry was raw with relief, and his fingers dug into Ian's broad back, bitten nails skittering over sweaty skin. As Ian caught his breath, he worried the rising bruise with his teeth and tongue, his slow, surging tempo in counterpoint to Charlie's quickening pace.
As Ian used the hand in Charlie's curls to expose the other side of the long neck to his teeth, he realized that somehow he had missed the convergence of their rhythm and Charlie was pulling him quicker and quicker toward a climax. A soft whimper grew to a rough keening in his ear, and as he felt the hot, wet pulsing between them, what began as a low growl of protest rose to a roar of completion.
They lay without moving for several long minutes. The beating of Charlie's heart and his ragged intake of breath seemed unnaturally loud in the otherwise silent room. Ian recovered first, of course. But he waited until Charlie groaned and pushed himself up to look at the clock before he moved. He had enough time for a shower if he didn't linger. He didn't particularly want to give up Ian's company, but he also didn't want to get on a flight while covered in his own come.
He looked glanced over at Ian, feeling absurdly aware of his own nakedness now that the sex was over. Ian had nothing to be self-concious about, and if the look on his face was any indication, he knew it, too. He was suddenly uncomfortably reminded of high school gym. He'd always hated having to change with the other boys. He was so much smaller and less developed and they never let him forget it. He shook his head slightly. He was being stupid. Ian was hardly going to laugh at him and try and force him into a locker. Even if he could manage it without breaking a sweat.
Charlie cocked his head to the side, trying to imagine what Ian would have been like in high school.
"Thinking deep thoughts, professor?" Ian asked, voice still slightly husky.
He almost asked. After all, if there was any time Ian might be willing to talk about his past, and he'd never actually said he wasn't, it was during the post orgasmic haze. His courage failed him at the last minute and instead he said, "I should get a shower before I head to the airport. Would um--would you like to join me?" he asked, hoping his voice sounded more confident than he thought. "In the shower, I mean."
"Sure, Charlie. If you're sure there's room."
"I think we can make it work." He grinned and forced himself off the bed.