Title: Soft, Sweet, Thick
Fandom: Numb3rs
Characters: Don/Charlie
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 705
Warning: Incest
Challenge:![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/community.gif)
quoted20
Dedication:![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif)
schnaucl requested something sexy and sweet. Hope this is a nice break from all the angst I've been writing.
Summary: Charlie is turning 18 and visiting home from Princeton. Don is 23 and on break from Quantico.
Disclaimer: Not mine, don't want, only borrowing, just fun, no infringement intended
A/N: The Geena Davis movie referenced is The Long Kiss Goodnight, which references a book by Harold Robbins.
The quote:
your tongue in my mouth... [i. illegal]
Their mouths meet slowly– long, drawn out kisses with gentle, tentative tongues. Don puts his hand on Charlie’s neck, his fingers below the hard bone of his jaw, thumb at the side of his mouth and caressing so softly, it feels like silk against Charlie’s skin.
Don breaks their kissing and brings the joint back to his mouth, sucking in the sweet, harsh smoke. He closes his eyes as he holds it in and passes to Charlie.
Charlie inhales a little and starts coughing, thick grey smoke puffing out from his mouth. Don pats Charlie on the back, a pointless move but with good intention, and he reaches for the beer on the coffee table and hands it to his brother. Charlie takes several long swallows and then grimaces.
God, that’s disgusting.
It’s beer. You’ll like it when you’re older.
I’ll be eighteen in a week.
Still a kid.
Shut up.
Don takes the joint from Charlie and sucks in another hit.
Should you really be getting high, Don?
He blows the smoke out in little rings and pokes his fingers through one, breaking the circle into tiny curls spreading out like Charlie’s hair.
Man, Quantico kicked my ass. I’ve got two months until I have to go back. I’m going to enjoy my time off.
Don looks back over at Charlie, and a sickly sweet smile spreads across his lips. He leans back into his brother, and their mouths meet again, his hand slipping between Charlie’s thighs.
...your name on my lips... [ii. immoral]
Charlie spreads his legs wider as Don pushes his fingers inside.
Jesus, you’re so tight.
Is it supposed to feel like that?
I don’t know. No one’s ever done it to me.
Do you even know what you’re doing?
Don twists his fingers and hits Charlie’s prostate, and Charlie keens, his body jolting against the soft cotton sheets of Don’s bed. He thrusts his fingers in and out; Charlie rocks his body against Don’s hand, eager for that feeling again – harder and deeper.
He pulls his fingers out, and Charlie whimpers at the loss, but then the slick head of Don’s cock is there to replace them. Don presses inside, twin moans escaping their lips.
It’s so hot inside you.
Go slow. It hurts.
I’m sorry, buddy.
Don’s teeth bite down on Charlie’s earlobe, the pain transferred, and Charlie cries out.
Heard about it in that Geena Davis movie. Supposed to help.
It was a Harold Robbins book.
God, Charlie, you feel so fucking good.
As Charlie relaxes, Don quickens his pace – hard, fast, deep, Charlie tight and hot on his thick cock – and he buries his face against Charlie’s neck, chests slick with beading sweat sliding against each other and Charlie’s cock trapped between their bodies and growing harder with the friction of Don’s body riding up and down his. It never felt this good with the other guys and definitely not with the girls, nothing that made him feel so complete, and Don knows it’s wrong but he can’t bring himself to care when Charlie is making him soar higher than he’d imagined possible.
C’mon, Charlie, I want to feel you come on me, want you to feel me come inside you. Make me come.
Charlie shouts Don’s name and jerks against him, hot come splashing between their bodies, and Don follows soon after, grunts muffled by his mouth against Charlie’s.
...your taste on my tongue [iii. fattening]
Don presses another truffle between Charlie’s lips. He bites down on soft milk chocolate, and thick vanilla crème liqueur fills his mouth.
It won’t get you drunk, stupid.
The sweetness is chased by Don’s tongue, tasting sugar and Charlie, melting chocolate on his tongue.
He drizzles fudge over Charlie’s cock and slowly licks it off.
Mmm, tastes so good.
The chocolate or my dick?
Shut up, Charlie.
Charlie looks down at his brother, his naked body muscled hard from baseball and now Quantico, and he sees the humor in Don’s eyes.
You shut up. And suck me.
Look at you. Eighteen for a few hours, and you already think you’re the man.
Don swallows him down, sucking off all the fudge and then pulling back to spread on more.
I think we’ll run out of chocolate before I get tired of sucking you off.
Fandom: Numb3rs
Characters: Don/Charlie
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 705
Warning: Incest
Challenge:
quoted20Dedication:
schnaucl requested something sexy and sweet. Hope this is a nice break from all the angst I've been writing.Summary: Charlie is turning 18 and visiting home from Princeton. Don is 23 and on break from Quantico.
Disclaimer: Not mine, don't want, only borrowing, just fun, no infringement intended
A/N: The Geena Davis movie referenced is The Long Kiss Goodnight, which references a book by Harold Robbins.
The quote:
"All the things I really like to do are either illegal, immoral, or fattening." - Alexander Woollcott
your tongue in my mouth... [i. illegal]
Their mouths meet slowly– long, drawn out kisses with gentle, tentative tongues. Don puts his hand on Charlie’s neck, his fingers below the hard bone of his jaw, thumb at the side of his mouth and caressing so softly, it feels like silk against Charlie’s skin.
Don breaks their kissing and brings the joint back to his mouth, sucking in the sweet, harsh smoke. He closes his eyes as he holds it in and passes to Charlie.
Charlie inhales a little and starts coughing, thick grey smoke puffing out from his mouth. Don pats Charlie on the back, a pointless move but with good intention, and he reaches for the beer on the coffee table and hands it to his brother. Charlie takes several long swallows and then grimaces.
God, that’s disgusting.
It’s beer. You’ll like it when you’re older.
I’ll be eighteen in a week.
Still a kid.
Shut up.
Don takes the joint from Charlie and sucks in another hit.
Should you really be getting high, Don?
He blows the smoke out in little rings and pokes his fingers through one, breaking the circle into tiny curls spreading out like Charlie’s hair.
Man, Quantico kicked my ass. I’ve got two months until I have to go back. I’m going to enjoy my time off.
Don looks back over at Charlie, and a sickly sweet smile spreads across his lips. He leans back into his brother, and their mouths meet again, his hand slipping between Charlie’s thighs.
...your name on my lips... [ii. immoral]
Charlie spreads his legs wider as Don pushes his fingers inside.
Jesus, you’re so tight.
Is it supposed to feel like that?
I don’t know. No one’s ever done it to me.
Do you even know what you’re doing?
Don twists his fingers and hits Charlie’s prostate, and Charlie keens, his body jolting against the soft cotton sheets of Don’s bed. He thrusts his fingers in and out; Charlie rocks his body against Don’s hand, eager for that feeling again – harder and deeper.
He pulls his fingers out, and Charlie whimpers at the loss, but then the slick head of Don’s cock is there to replace them. Don presses inside, twin moans escaping their lips.
It’s so hot inside you.
Go slow. It hurts.
I’m sorry, buddy.
Don’s teeth bite down on Charlie’s earlobe, the pain transferred, and Charlie cries out.
Heard about it in that Geena Davis movie. Supposed to help.
It was a Harold Robbins book.
God, Charlie, you feel so fucking good.
As Charlie relaxes, Don quickens his pace – hard, fast, deep, Charlie tight and hot on his thick cock – and he buries his face against Charlie’s neck, chests slick with beading sweat sliding against each other and Charlie’s cock trapped between their bodies and growing harder with the friction of Don’s body riding up and down his. It never felt this good with the other guys and definitely not with the girls, nothing that made him feel so complete, and Don knows it’s wrong but he can’t bring himself to care when Charlie is making him soar higher than he’d imagined possible.
C’mon, Charlie, I want to feel you come on me, want you to feel me come inside you. Make me come.
Charlie shouts Don’s name and jerks against him, hot come splashing between their bodies, and Don follows soon after, grunts muffled by his mouth against Charlie’s.
...your taste on my tongue [iii. fattening]
Don presses another truffle between Charlie’s lips. He bites down on soft milk chocolate, and thick vanilla crème liqueur fills his mouth.
It won’t get you drunk, stupid.
The sweetness is chased by Don’s tongue, tasting sugar and Charlie, melting chocolate on his tongue.
He drizzles fudge over Charlie’s cock and slowly licks it off.
Mmm, tastes so good.
The chocolate or my dick?
Shut up, Charlie.
Charlie looks down at his brother, his naked body muscled hard from baseball and now Quantico, and he sees the humor in Don’s eyes.
You shut up. And suck me.
Look at you. Eighteen for a few hours, and you already think you’re the man.
Don swallows him down, sucking off all the fudge and then pulling back to spread on more.
I think we’ll run out of chocolate before I get tired of sucking you off.
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