Title: I Never Told You
Fandom: Numb3rs
Pairing: Don/Charlie
Rating: NC-17
Prompt: #39 "Don and/Charlie are put in danger and have 'you/we almost died sex" for eppescest
Word Count: 3900
Warnings: Incest, rimming, torture, mention of rape
Disclaimer: Not mine, don't want, only borrowing, just fun, no infringement intended
A/N: I'll be the first to admit that the last section is choppy. I'm not very good at those descriptive sort of pr0n scenes, so things are kind of whacked.
Special thanks to jaredsexual for not only letting me slide on the deadline but also pointing out corrections that needed to be made. ♥




Don had come up against a lot of organized groups in his time, but nothing quite like this. The internal communication, the insider knowledge, the precision of their movements – these guys were highly-trained and had to have been planning this for a long time.

His team was falling apart. David and Colby were breathing hard and visibly fighting nausea, every sound that echoed through the warehouse making them jump. Megan was a complete wreck and understandably so, given what she'd just experienced. But worse than seeing his team in shambles was knowing that it was somehow his fault. Normally, they would have held it together. Megan had kept cool during her last abduction, and David and Colby never lost their control of a situation no matter how bad it got. They'd always been able to maintain the appearance of calm because they'd always had the hope that Don still had the upper hand and would come through for them; Don, the hero, never dropped his poker face.

Until this time. Now he was wringing his hands and crying and shaking, every single desperate emotion playing across his face. He'd made it through David and Colby's torture and just barely hung on during Megan's rape, but when those bastards took Charlie, he lost it.

The only thing that allowed Don to hold on was that he hadn't heard anything beyond muffled dialogue – occasionally punctuated by frustrated yelling – from the makeshift interrogation room. At least they weren't hurting Charlie. Listening to the sounds of what they had done to his team members was just as awful as experiencing any torture they could give him, but hearing them do those things to Charlie... god, there's no way Don would be able to survive.

These guys were damn good. They knew about Megan's past and came at her from that angle, trying to convince her that she was destined to be a disappointment to everyone. They knew about Colby withholding info from the team about Dwayne, so he was already a traitor in the eyes of his partners. They knew about how hard David had fought to get into the FBI and told him that he was always going to someone else's lapdog because the people running the country would never let some street trash have control (Just look at your suburban boss and the corn-fed Army kid and Miss Congeniality here), so he might as well stick it to the Bureau right now. They knew about all the people Don had slept with – many of them assistants on cases – and argued that with such loose morals, it would be impossible for Don to value anything over his own interests. And they knew about the never-ending hero worship Charlie held for Don and that Don had never given him the acceptance he craved, and no act of selflessness would ever change that.

The wait was killing him. His body had been tense for so long that he'd started to shake, and the nausea was growing every minute. Sweat soaked through his shirt. And he finally heard Charlie's voice rise up, a heated and passionate shout, begging and pleading, and then Don was on his feet and bounding to the door. His team was yelling at him to stop, and the guards had their guns raised and pointed at him, and the only reason he didn’t make it to the door of the room where they tortured Charlie was because the force of the bullet entering his shoulder pushed him back.

The door of the interrogation room opened at the sound of the gunfire, and orders were delivered to split up the group. The compulsion to fight back was needling at them – Don could see it in each one of his team member's eyes – but they kept their mouths shut and heads down as they were lead into different areas of the large, open space. God, there were so many of these people; Don figured they were outnumbered at least 3-to-1, and each one seemed to have some kind of military or special forces training. It made sense – you didn't use a five-person group of high school dropouts to abduct and torture a team of federal agents, especially when the whole point was to locate a shipment of nuclear warheads. And why the FBI was still on the case after Homeland had swept in was beyond Don, but – then again – the whole day had been a series of mind fucks.
He pressed his hand to the wound to block the blood flow, but it was pointless. Once they finished with Charlie, they'd start in on him, and they wouldn't stop. After he refused enough to speak, they'd just kill him, let that be a lesson to his team, to his brother. Once they were done with Don, they'd go back to the team and kill them one by one until someone finally told them what they wanted to hear. Then they'd probably kill the rest of them, anyway. Don knew enough about terrorists to know that they were fucked either way, and the smart thing would be to go the route that didn't end in millions of deaths.

The sounds coming from the interrogation room made Don wonder if Charlie really was as fragile as he seemed or if they were going harder on him for the added benefit of psyching out Don. He tried to not think of the hundreds of different things they could be doing, but trying to not think about it made it impossible to focus on anything else, and the pain in his shoulder was suddenly secondary to the heaving in his stomach, and he vomited on the cold concrete floor, already wet with his blood.

One of the guards looked down at him and made eye contact. Don stared back menacingly.
The guard scoffed. "No point in acting tough. Your brother will be dead before much longer, and you're next."

Don hardened his jaw and tried to keep up the tough guy routine, not that there was reason to; he'd cried, freaked out, threw up, and soon his father would be left a widower with two dead sons. This wasn't the time for façades. There was nothing that could be done, no way to rectify the situation. This was one of those times in life when one just had to accept his fate and make his peace with God.

But then Charlie screamed louder and more desperately, and Don knew that they were starting to kill him, and he couldn't give up. After thirty-plus years of protecting Charlie from the world, there was no way he could let it end like this. He just needed to think clearly. He closed his eyes, thought of the day Charlie was born, thought of playing baseball in the yard with Dad, thought of birthday parties Mom threw for him, his first date, prom, spring break with the guys in Puerto Vallarta, playing for the Stockton Rangers, graduating from the FBI, the thrill of his first recovery with Coop – all the great, exhilarating moments in life, and he took a deep breath, lifted his left hand, and placed his fingers to the bullet hole in his right shoulder.

1... 2... 3...

He dug his fingers into the wound, white-hot flashes of brilliant light exploding behind his eyes, and felt for the bullet. Between bone and tissue, his fingers sealed around the metal and carefully pulled it out, a long and low grunt bellowing from his raw throat.
"Jesus Christ," another guard gaped.

Don caught Colby’s eyes from his spot nearby, and the agent’s face reflected a complete understanding of Don’s mission. Colby knew about this better than anyone on his team; he’d been in this position countless times before in Afghanistan. The only thing that Don could relate to on this subject was the time at the championship game when he had run for second base, knowing that he’d be tagged out, and it gave Ruiz the chance to steal home and win them the game. But that was light years away from this.

Don knew he should be the one to do it as both team leader and the one who always took on the dirty work, but someone had to remain in control, and while he trusted each one of his partners, none of them had had to coordinate unplanned attacks in real-time, another thing that Colby understood, having been trained to keep the commanding officer alive.

Colby dove at one of the guards, and shots began to fire, but in that split-second, Don seized another of the guards, snapped his neck, and took his gun, firing at the guards nearest Colby. His team proved to be the crack outfit he’d taught them to be when they responded accordingly. Megan took a bullet to her leg but managed to get off four shots, and David and Don dispatched the rest.

They pointed their guns at the interrogation room, expecting the assailants inside to come blazing out in a hail of bullets, but the door remained closed, and they couldn’t hear any commotion inside. They quickly approached the room, and kicked in the door, visually sweeping the perimeter with their drawn guns running with their eyesight, but the room was cleared with nothing but a chair and a pool of blood in the middle.

“Fuck!” Don shouted, punching at the wall. “We need to get backup like yesterday.”

David’s eyes looked back at Megan and Colby. “And an ambulance.”


+++++++


“Agent Reeves will be fine,” Merrick informed in the FBI war room, “but Agent Granger’s still in surgery.”

Don paused his pacing. “And?”

“And it’s not looking good.”

Roberts from Homeland twisted a pen in his fingers. “Agent Eppes, can you think of what your brother might have told them?”

“I don’t know that he told them anything. Charlie’s been working with the NSA for years; he understands confidentiality and what’s at risk here if he says anything.”

“And that’s why interrogators use torture. What does Charlie know about the warheads?”

Don had been fighting to maintain composure since getting back to the offices – frustrated and scared was no way to handle a case of this magnitude – but the questioning had him walking a thin line, and he was already exhausted from the earlier events. “He knows their location. That’s more than enough.”

“Does he know how to arm them?”

Don slammed his hand on the table. “Do you even know who’s doing this?”

Roberts cleared his throat to recover from the sudden outburst. “Based on the descriptions given and what we were able locate in our databases, we believe this to be the work of Faluz al-Khalifa, a Fundamentalist radical.”

“What are the odds?” Don deadpanned.

“The best thing for us to do now is inform the authorities at the warheads’ holding station that there’s a possibility of attack.”

“Well, that’s one of the first things Agent Sinclair and I did when we got out.”

Merrick cracked a small smile. “Great foresight, Eppes.”

“It’s not foresight; it’s common sense.”


+++++++


Merrick had insisted that Don stay at the offices, but he managed to convince the director to at least let him come along and stay in one of the vehicles. He got the fact that he’d be a risk to the team going in – emotions with far too much potential to make him act irrationally – but he had to be there if they got Charlie out. When they got Charlie out. He had to be right there for his little brother. Don couldn’t even begin to imagine how scared Charlie must be. God, they should have taken him instead. Al-Khalifa made a big fucking mistake.

He didn’t mean to, but the only thing he could think about was what he would do without Charlie. The FBI was definitely out. If he did manage to keep himself together and stay with the Bureau, he’d end up being one of those guys who acts too impulsively and drinks too much, and he’d probably end up being relegated to a lifetime of paperwork just to keep him out of field work. He could go back to baseball, but he’d have no heart to play, so he’d just end up failing miserably because there’s no way to play when a man doesn’t have that driving force. He could end up moving in with Dad, trying hopelessly to hold the both of them together and maybe working for one of those consultancy groups like Blackwell. Most likely, though, he’d just give in to that void that’s been growing inside him over the last few years until it got so big that he finally stopped breathing.

There were so many things that he wanted to say to Charlie. I never meant to hurt you. I’m proud to have you as a brother. I could never have asked for more from you. You always had my approval. You’re my best friend. I love you.

I love you. Something tore at him, and then all he could see were Charlie’s big doe eyes, that halo of soft curls, the elegant way his fingers held chalk, that small and impish smile that crossed his face when Don gave him a compliment, the way he wore his heart on his sleeve and every emotion he felt was openly displayed.

And how would those curls feel against his skin? How would those fingers feel touching him? Which expressions would play on his face when Don pushed himself inside him and took him soaring? What would his eyes look like when he’s coming? Would he give Don that same sweet smile after they’re done and laid together?

Don tried to shake the thoughts, but it was useless. Tugging at his heart was the realization that this was what he’d always wanted, and this was the reason why he’d held back so much from Charlie over the years, why he’d been so reluctant to let Charlie in and give his approval. Maybe it had always been there, and he’d been too scared to let himself see it, too afraid to let it be real.

And now it was what he wanted more than anything.

When David brought Charlie out from the hangar, an incredible warmth washed over him, tension slipping away, and he basked in the calm of relief. He rushed to his brother and took him in his arms.

“God, are you okay, buddy?” He pulled away to look at his brother, miraculously marred very little. “You hardly have a scratch on you.”

“Yeah, well, you haven’t seen the rest of me,” he answered with a wry laugh, and the thought of seeing the rest of Charlie gave him a jolt. “Where’s everybody else?”

“Megan’s… doing okay. And Colby was in surgery, but he’s going to be alright.”

“You’d be real proud of your brother, Charlie,” David said, a hand on his shoulder. “He did some real Jack Bauer shit back there.”

Charlie smiled up at David. “I’m always proud of Don.”


+++++++


Don slowly ran his fingers over Charlie’s skin, surveying the damage. It wasn’t bad at all, just a few cuts and growing bruises.

“I was more scared than anything,” Charlie answered sheepishly to Don’s unspoken question as to all the screaming that had come from the interrogation room. He looked down at Don on his knees between his legs and then quickly turned away. “I don’t really want to talk about it, though.”

“Me, neither.” Don cleared his throat. “But there is something that I need to talk to you about.”

“Anything.”

“There’s something I never told you.” He slowly licked his lips. He was on the precipice, and it scared the hell out of him, almost as much as the thought of losing Charlie. And the possibility of losing Charlie wasn’t out of the question now, either. “I love you.”

Charlie smiled. “I love you, too, Don.”

“No, Charlie, you don’t understand.” He took a deep breath. Last chance to back out. He still had the window of opportunity to make a decent attempt at a recovery and then keep this a secret for himself. He didn’t have to say it. “I’m in love with you.” Charlie’s face dropped, mouth falling open, those big, expressive eyes wide and communicating acres of shock. “I’m in love with you, and the thought of losing you… the thought of never being able to tell you this… Charlie, I nearly lost you today. We nearly lost each other. And it took what we went through for me to realize it, but this is the reason why I could never let you see how much I cared, why I had to keep you at a distance. I didn’t want to see it. I didn’t want it to be true, but now I can’t deny it, and I can’t go for another moment without – ”

Charlie leaned in and cut him off with a kiss. Never breaking the kiss, Don got up from the floor and pushed them back into the couch, putting his knees on the sides of Charlie’s thighs. Charlie’s soft lips slowly opened at the prodding of Don’s tongue, and he tasted the inside of his brother’s mouth, so warm and willing and perfect.

“Come with me,” Don beckoned, pulling them towards his bedroom.

He directed his brother to sit down on his bed and then began unbuttoning his own shirt.

“Let me,” Charlie interrupted, his fingers touching Don’s as he took over the task. Charlie placed a kiss to each new revealed section of skin as he exposed more and more of Don’s body. Finally with all the buttons undone, he slid the shirt back and off Don’s shoulders, and they worked together to push the material free from his wrists and onto the floor. “I’ve wanted this for so long. I never thought you’d feel the same.”

They began working at each other’s pants, opening jeans and pulling them down until they stood in their underwear, heavy erections straining against cotton. Charlie brought Don to the bed, and they laid down together, taking a few moments to just feel one another. Don ran his hand over Charlie’s erection, and Charlie responded by reaching into his brother’s underwear and feeling his cock, skin to skin at last.

“How’s your shoulder?”

“Last thing I’m thinking about.”

They took off the remaining pieces of clothing and slowly rubbed their cocks together, reveling in the feeling of one another.

Don slid down and took Charlie’s cock in his hand, angling it to his mouth. Slowly, he licked at the head, earning a long and sweet moan. He teased until Charlie began bucking up, and then he took pity on his brother and swallowed the length, sucking fervently, desperate to provoke more of those delicious moans that ignited every nerve of his body.

“Need you,” they whispered together, and Don crawled over to his nightstand, pulling out a bottle of lube. He set it to the side of Charlie’s body and then returned to his spot, lifting up Charlie’s legs and pushing them back. He gave another lick to his brother’s cock and then dropped lower, tonguing at his balls, and Charlie pressed a hand to the short hair of Don’s head. His tongue continued, teasing at the spot behind his balls, and then he pushed Charlie’s legs back further, tongue slipping between the cheeks of his ass.

“Jesus Christ, Don!”

“S’okay, Charlie. Relax, buddy. I’ve got you.” He returned to his task, licking slowly at the soft skin and then pushing inside. Charlie squirmed against him, moaning loudly. Don’s hand reached for the lube, and he popped the top, squeezing a generous amount onto his fingers. He slipped one digit inside and then another, stroking at his prostate. He couldn’t believe how tight Charlie was and how his whole body was a live wire, responding breathtakingly to each thrust of Don’s fingers. “Have you ever done this before?” It probably would have been a smart idea to ask that before now.

“No. Was waiting for you.”

The answer sent another bolt through Don straight to his cock. Charlie had been aware of his want of Don for so much longer than Don could recognize having even an inkling of his own desire, and he’d held out hope for this moment for all these years. Charlie’s need for him was overwhelming and exhilarating.

“I’m going to take care of you, buddy.”

“I know you are.”

After a few more strokes with a third finger, Don pulled back and slicked his cock with the lube, then lined up his cock. “Just tell me if you want to stop.” Gently, Don pushed into Charlie, and the tightness and heat of his brother made him cry out with Charlie. So perfect. Everything he could have ever hoped for. Absolutely exquisite, and he couldn’t believe that he’d waited so long for this.

He pulled out and pushed in again, moving slowly, wanting to make love to Charlie and make him feel as whole and at peace as Don felt at that moment.

“Don’t, Don.” For a moment, Don panicked, afraid that Charlie didn’t really want this after all, that the realization of what they were doing had finally hit him and it wasn’t at all what he had thought it would be. “Don’t go slow. Don’t be gentle. I want it hard. I want all of you. I want you to let go.”

Don leaned down to Charlie and kissed him. He slammed back in, and Charlie cried out – long and needy and incredible. He gave his brother all that he had to give, wanting so much – needing so much – to make this everything he dreamed it would be, to complete him.

“God, Charlie, you feel so… so perfect.”

“Fuck me, Don. Please, yes. It feels so good.” He threaded his fingers with Don’s and squeezed. His moans escalated, echoing off the walls, and his body clenched hard around Don, driving him crazy, making him pound harder, each thrust hitting his prostate. “Fuck me. Yes, God, fuck me. Donnie, please.”

Don wrapped a hand around Charlie’s cock and pumped in time with his thrusts. “Come on, Charlie. Come for me, baby. Come for – ”

Charlie screamed out as his orgasm tore through him, spurts of hot cum splashing across his chest, and the spasm of his body brought Don over the edge, mindless thrusts draining him deep inside his brother.

He slowly pulled out, earning one last low moan from Charlie, and flopped down next to him, breathing heavily.

“Jesus…”

“That was… amazing, Don. Everything was… you were so…”

“You, too, buddy.” He lifted himself up on an elbow, thankful that it was the side that hadn’t been wounded. “I love you, Charlie.”

“I love you, too, Don.”

He kissed Charlie, learning the taste and texture of his mouth. “I’m really glad you didn’t die.”

Charlie laughed and kissed him again. “Me, too.”

“Glad that you didn’t die or glad that I didn’t die?”

He shook his head. “Why do you always have to be such a jerk?”

“Mmm, why do you always have to be such a brat?”

Charlie snuggled in next to Don, that beloved small and impish smile on his face.