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10 December 2008 @ 12:05 pm
Numb3rs Fic: Addiction Part 1  
Posted to numb3rs_slash
Crossposted to eppescest

Title: Addiction
Pairing/Characters: Don/Charlie
Rating: NC17
Spoilers: Season 1
Summary: A summer visit leads to twisted addiction tearing the brothers apart
Notes/Warnings: Read the disclaimer on my LJ

The first rush of freedom was intoxicating.

Charlie figured he should thank his logic teacher because he never thought he'd win the argument to spend his 17th summer alone back east.

His mother had protested he was still a minor.

He'd pointed out repeatedly he'd be eighteen before the fall semester of grad school began.

In the end they'd agreed to a compromise that still gave Charlie what he wanted desperately - privacy. Don had no plans for the summer and agreed to stay with Charlie for at least a month. He wouldn't be alone, but he wouldn't have parental supervision either.

Charlie assumed they bribed Don with something good, but his parents were mum on the topic, just saying that Don thought exploring nearby New York would be interesting as well as checking out different baseball teams on the eastern seaboard.

He had two weeks after his mother moved back to California and before his erstwhile chaperone showed up, so Charlie reveled in staying out all night, sleeping all day and living off takeout Chinese and pizza. He walked around naked, drank milk out of the carton with the refrigerator door open and took his time jacking off in the shower, no longer having to worry about his mother knocking on the door to remind him to hurry up for school.

He hadn't seen Don in months, not since Hanukkah. He'd filled out well during his college athletic training, putting on a solid 15-20 pounds of muscle over his already lean high school physique, and minor league ball had sculpted him even more. Don half-naked out of the shower had always been a distraction - and a more than guilty masturbatory fantasy - for Charlie growing up. Absence, and Don's more manly build, just made matters worse.

In preparation for his brother's stay, or at least he told himself that, Charlie went through every fantasy he ever had - in bed, in the shower, anywhere - making himself get off until he felt reasonably inured to the titillation of thinking of his brother.

And then Don had to ruin it all by showing up.


Don strolled through the airport as if he owned it, sports duffle slung casually over his shoulder like it weighed nothing.

Newly twenty-three he was on top of his game, on top of the world and ready to claim his place in the world of baseball.

Or at least he was until the Stockton Rangers put him on the injured list. A shoulder strain, bad enough to sideline him, but Don didn't sideline well. The team manager had sent him home to recuperate with strict orders not to play any sports until he got approval from the team doctor.

Thus, New York or to be more precise, New Jersey.

"Hey, Buddy..."

Don's one-armed hug was affectionate and brotherly, but all of Charlie's preparation went out the window at first contact.

This was going to be a long summer.


Yankee Stadium.

Don was in awe of the home of the famous Yankees.

Charlie was in awe of Don.

Don's coach had pulled in a favor and gotten him invited to a practice.

They sat watching the team run rapid-fire drills, throwing the ball from base to base with wicked precision.

And then batting practice.

A foul ball popped up and Don bolted a half a row over to catch it bare handed.

Always one to show off, rather than try to keep it, he threw it all the way from the box seats they were in to the pitcher's mound.

This earned him a nod of respect from the pitcher himself - something Don didn't shut up about for weeks after.

As if his ego needed a boost.


They fell into a comfortable routine, even if Don was the Felix to his Oscar. An outsider would have thought Don came from the military with his discipline: bed made every day, three mile run before breakfast, physical therapy three days a week like clockwork and a constant regimen of protein shakes, designed to keep him bulked up.

Making them made a mess every time in the kitchen, but Don dutifully cleaned up after each one, cuffing Charlie lightly across the back of the head each time he teased his big brother about being an obsessive compulsive - his favorite term from Psychology 101 - neat freak.

Charlie, on the other hand, reveled in his newfound inner slob. He'd been so used to having chores living with his mother the idea that no one made him take out the garbage and no one would punish him if he left the pizza box on the coffee table overnight was liberating. Don complained, but never did more than grumble and call him a lazy pig.

They lived off hot dogs and ramen more than they admitted to their parents, but Don at least tried to cook sometimes, saying the reason he went to the trouble of making pasta and all was that he needed carb loading.

Charlie's protests were mostly for show. Those were the dinners where they actually sat at the dining room table together, where they looked at each other, where they talked.

"So, what's up with all the nightmares?" Don asked out of the blue, while Charlie was halfway through a plate of Don's pasta. "I keep hearing you yelling and stuff."

Charlie just shook his head, dumbstruck. He'd had no idea he was having any, but Don dropped the subject and forgot about it.

Or at least Charlie hoped he had.

He sure hadn't.


It was almost 3AM when he heard the creak of the door opening.

Charlie pretended to be asleep and hoped Don would go away.

"Buddy, wake up." The hand shaking him was rough, insistent. "You were having another nightmare. Screaming in your sleep."

Frozen, Charlie's brain did a flip. He hadn't even been asleep. In fact, he'd been in the middle of jacking off thinking about Don - one last time as he told himself at least twice a week - and was still hard, his cock jutting out through his pajama bottoms.

Don slid into the bed behind him and if Charlie thought he was paralyzed before, now he was completely immobile and taut as a bowstring.

Don just settled himself onto the pillow beside his, spooned up behind him - close but not too close - and slung an arm around his middle before settling down.

"Try to go back to sleep," he muttered.

Like that was going to happen.

Caught, Charlie couldn't get up and go to the bathroom to deal with his erection, he couldn't ignore it - his body made that abundantly clear - so he waited until he felt sure Don was asleep and prayed he'd only last a few strokes so he could get it over with.

He edged his hand past the arm wrapped loosely around his belly and took his cock in his grip, careful not to brush or jostle Don's arm at all.

A minute or two in it was clear his anxiety was getting him nowhere fast. Trying to pretend his brother wasn't sharing his bed wasn't helping, so he caved. He shifted just enough to lean back into Don.

In his sleep, Don adjusted, tugging Charlie closer with his arm until his body was pressed up against Charlie's backside.

After that it took almost no effort, no imagination to come - lip bitten so hard it almost drew blood.

After dawn broke, Don was up and out for his morning run.

He didn't say anything about that night to Charlie.

Charlie's brains were going too fast to process anything, his mind a whirlwind of possibility and perversity.

Don. In his bed. Contact.

Any efforts he'd made in the past to exorcise that demon had gone to waste.

Now he was completely possessed.


He waited up a few more nights, but Don didn't return.

"You look like crap," Don said over the breakfast table, pushing over the first cup of coffee. "Those nightmares aren't letting you get any good sleep, are they?"

Charlie almost choked on the coffee.

Exhausted he fell asleep early, giving up on a nocturnal visit.

Of course that meant Don showed up.

This time the hand shaking him really did shake him awake.

"It's okay... It's okay, Buddy..."

Don slipped into bed behind him and wrapped himself around him, arm around his belly holding him close.

Only Charlie's sleepy daze saved him from an immediate erection at the feel of Don's body next to his.

Still, he wasn't able to fall back asleep so he lay there, listening to Don's breathing even out.

This time it wasn't him making noises during sleep.

A pleased little rumble in his ear was matched with an increased tightening of the arm around his middle as Don pressed up against him, their bodies flush without any space between them.

He was clearly still asleep, but also clearly aroused. Charlie could feel Don's erection brushing against him through both their boxers - first against his ass cheek and then, as Don shifted, between the cheeks of his ass, each thrust riding the thinly covered crack.

Charlie felt like he might come in his shorts even without masturbating. Don's cock riding his ass felt incredible and his brain nearly went offline with pleasure.

Don's arm released its hold on him and his hand began to roam clumsily, first up across a pec and the soft brush of hair there, then back down to his belly and the waistband of his boxers.

Just the faintest brush of Don's hand against the bulge in his boxers set him off and he came hard, a low groan escaping him despite his efforts to stay silent.

Not caring anymore - and worried what would happen if Don found out - he practically leaped out of bed, bolting for the bathroom.

After a couple of minutes, Don's sleepy voice was heard along with a rap on the door.

"Buddy, you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." He swallowed hard. "Just another nightmare."


July was a bitch, but August was worse. The air conditioning broke and while they waited for the repairman - the only appointment they could get in the heatwave was three days out - they walked around in next to nothing, sweating like mad despite the fans pointed at them.

Charlie used it as an excuse to shower often since watching Don walk around like that was pretty much an engraved invitation to an embarrassing erection.

Sleep was elusive. Sweaty and sticky even with the sheets off, Charlie felt the oppressive heat like a thick blanket over him.

At 3:30 in the morning he felt pretty confident that Don wasn't coming, so he kicked off his sweat soaked boxers and tried to get as comfortable as he could in the nude.

The oscillating fan swept over his body head to toe in slow passes, but it mostly blew hot air at him.

He lay on his side, facing the window, praying for a tiny cool breeze from the north.

And then he heard his door creak open.

Don didn't shake him awake, didn't say anything.

He lay down on the bed, pulled up a pillow and settled in as if he was just going to sleep, nothing out of the ordinary.

Only it was with his brother and his brother happened to be naked.

Their bodies weren't touching - it was too hot for that - so Charlie was able to keep his control, but just barely.

He waited, wary, but nothing happened. Don fell asleep and after a while that cool breeze did show up and he fell asleep as well.

He dreamed Don was pressed up against him, behind him, as he was before only this time he had his hand on Charlie's cock, stroking him expertly. His cock was heavy against Charlie's ass and Charlie ground back against him, begging for him to fuck him, to finally feel that perfect slide of Don's cock inside of him. And then it was happening. Don was on top of him and his whole body vibrated with pleasure.

And then he woke up.

Blinking with confusion, he found himself on his stomach.

With Don on top of him.

The whir of the fan doubled the rush of sound in his ears as the shock of reality overwhelmed him.

Don was making shallow thrusts against him, pressing him into the mattress with his bulk and weight.

Charlie was hard - no surprise - trapped between his belly and the bed.

Don was muttering something in his sleep that sounded a bit like, 'come on, come on'.

He was clearly getting off on rubbing against Charlie's naked ass and Charlie figured neither of them would last that long if Don kept it up.

And then Don's cock slipped through the slit in his boxers and sprang free.

That first nudge of Don's bare cockhead against his ass blew his mind.

Before he could react, Don shifted slightly and pressed back in, this time driving his cock between Charlie's closed thighs.

The tight sweaty crevasse must have been what he was looking for, because Don started pumping faster, letting out little groans.

One more slight adjustment and the head of Don's cock grazed behind his balls and Charlie was lost, pumping come into the bed as he bit his pillow, shuddering his way through the most powerful orgasm he'd ever had.

Don stiffened behind him with an inarticulate grunt then fell still, with his weight still on him.

At first he was too dazed to complain, but when he eventually writhed in discomfort Don rolled off of him, turning away on his side and sleeping on.

Charlie already kept clean up supplies in his nightstand so he was ready.

He pulled out a fresh pair of boxers and put them back on before letting the post-orgasmic malaise claim him and pull him into sleep.


Again, Don said nothing of the nighttime excursions or any inappropriate behavior.

He took day trips and overnights to check out ballparks further away, but always came back bitching about Charlie's lousy housekeeping.

Almost two weeks passed and Don hadn't been back to his room.

Charlie guessed that Don had discovered a mess the next morning and decided it wasn't a good idea to bunk with his brother and let it go.

But he could never get past the one fundamental flaw: this had all started because Don said he had a nightmare he hadn't actually had.

Then he had an idea. Two could play at that game.

He went to bed early - for him anyway - and waited until he heard Don get ready for bed.

He couldn't scream convincingly, so he arranged a small stack of books on his nightstand he could conveniently knock over with his faked thrashing.

Sure enough after the thump of falling books, the door creaked open.

"Buddy, hey wake up..."

Charlie flutter opened his eyes, feigning confusion.

"You had another nightmare. I think you knocked over your books."

Charlie let his head fall back to his pillow with a disconsolate sigh.

"Scoot over, I'll keep you company while you try to go back to sleep."

He took his time, wanting Don to feel certain he really was asleep, and finally settled down curled up facing away from Don.

This was the frightening part - not knowing for sure if Don was asleep yet. If he tried this and Don was awake and horrified? He waited another half hour, praying Don would be out of it by then.

Finally, after an interminable wait he turned - ostensibly in his sleep - and curled up facing Don, slinging an arm over his body in the same way Don had done to him, only awkwardly given that Don was sleeping on his side facing him.

When Don didn't react Charlie waited a little bit then edged closer, rubbing their legs together and bringing his head to about Don's chest level - off the pillow - and his arm wrapped tighter around him.

Nothing. No reaction.

Emboldened, he let his hand begin to roam over Don's body - first his broad back then his furred torso finally skimming over his hip down to his thighs.

He could hear Don's breathing quickening, but nothing else.

Don's body responded as he hoped it would, edging towards the touches. By the time his hand took the daring leap up Don's thigh to his groin he was already hard.

It took almost no effort to brush the fabric aside and let Don's erection escape the slit in his boxers.

A little hitch in his breath was all he got out of Don, but then he suddenly shifted position, resettling on his side.

Moment of truth time.

Charlie dredged up every bit of his bravery and had his ready protest of being asleep memorized.

Then he moved.

He shifted down the bed until he was curled in a ball under the sheets, the dimmest of light silhouetting Don's cock in the shadows.

Shivering with excitement, he reached out his hand and closed it around Don's thick shaft before leaning in and delicately sucking the head between his lips.

The taste of Don exploded on his tongue, a thousand flavors of bitter, sweet and oh god all in one. The breach of the smooth spongy tip past the O of his lips was a revelation. How could he have this and not want it all the time?

The cock in his hand was thick, warm - almost hot - and twitching along with the exploration of his mouth. He dragged his lips around the ridge, learning every millimeter of it. He dipped the point of his tongue into the slit and earned a jolt, which he felt ricochet through Don's body.

His other hand slipped down to free his own cock, stroking it carelessly as his lips descended, slowly taking Don in as far as he could.

This time the moan was unmistakably loud and Charlie froze, unsure if Don was awake or not.

Hands drifted clumsily into his curls so clearly Don was asleep - he was never clumsy when he was awake, his athletic gifts ensured that. He fisted Charlie's hair and started to pump his hips, fucking his brother's mouth.

Charlie's hand sped up on his own cock, hopelessly turned on by Don taking control over him, over Don doing this to him rather than him doing this to Don.

He sucked greedily like a newborn calf, desperate for life-giving nourishment. This was his manna; he could live on this, his drug, his addiction.

And then Don was coming in his mouth, pulsing over as Charlie followed suit, the throbbing cock between his lips more of an aphrodisiac than he ever imagined.

Don rolled over afterwards like nothing had happened.

Charlie didn't fall asleep until dawn, both elated at fantasy made real and horrified that he'd now officially had sex with his brother.


Don left for a whirlwind four-day tour of five stadiums the next day, telling Charlie he didn't want to see the coffee table covered with trash when he got back.

Charlie spent those days pacing, trying to figure out what to do, wondering if what he did counted as rape, wondering what the odds were that Don really had been awake for everything.

The odds that Don wanted this too.

It seemed an incredible longshot, but from Don's point of view if he wanted something they could never have, why not create a scenario where neither of them was to blame if it did happen?

It seemed absurd since - if they did want it - who would ever know? They lived three thousand miles from their parents and no one else had any idea what went on behind locked doors at night.

He kept trying to go back to work: research, reading journals, checking out potentially interesting graduate seminars for the next term. But it all came back to Don: the feel of his hard body beneath his fingers, the sight of his chest hair running in a tantalizing line down to his cock, the salty taste of him filling his mouth...

His fingers itched, but not for chalk. His mouth watered for a flavor he craved, but couldn't sate. He got hard, but getting off wasn't enough to kick the habit.

He needed 100 percent pure Don. Nothing else would do.

Yet, he needed something - anything - to help get him through in the interim.

His mind registered the disturbing thought that it was no longer if he'd try again, but when Don got home. This sick addiction was complete. It no longer mattered what Don might want or not, if he was awake or not, Charlie had to have it.

Out for a walk on the last day before Don's return, he found himself at a farmer's market. He bought a few pieces of fruit for snacks then halted in his tracks in front of the vegetable stand.

That night he stole a condom from Don's shelf in the bathroom closet - he had plenty, he'd never miss it.

The zucchini was a bit more slender than Don's cock, but it was enough.

He lay on his stomach trying to bring back the memory of Don's weight on top of him, Don's body thrusting against him. He brought up his filthiest imaginings of Don's cock inside of him and slid his improvised toy inside.

He came so fast he waited and just did it again.

And again.


Don got home later than expected, growling about traffic before flinging himself on the sofa for a nap.

Some homecoming.

Charlie just stared at him until he realized his thoughts were about Don sleeping so long on the couch that he might not be able to sleep long enough in Charlie's bed for him to do what he wanted.

He stared down at his brother's face, made peaceful and innocent by sleep, and turned away - nauseous.

Charlie bought more zucchini, made some to go along with Don's pasta that week and secretly kept one or two for his room.

He couldn't do it and he couldn't do nothing.

"Everything okay, Buddy?" Don asked over dinner one night with an honestly worried expression.

He nodded and offered a plastered smile, hoping Don would bring up the nightmares.

He didn't.

That night he knocked over books again, but Don didn't come.

Desperate, he resorted to the zucchini later, only to panic mid-orgasm - ass in the air with his hand busy fucking himself - thinking he'd heard the door creak.

When he turned around the door was closed as normal.

It took a while for his heart rate to come down and even longer to eventually fall asleep.


"You need some fresh air," Don proclaimed and dragged him off to Atlantic City.

Charlie was underage, but they roamed the boardwalk, scoped out girls and got a bit of a sunburn at the beach.

By the time they got home Charlie was almost giddy between the overdose of sun and the half a beer Don had let him have.

Don just pushed him into the bathroom and told him to shower and get ready for bed.

The full day had worn him out and before he knew it he faceplanted into his pillow and was out like a light.

This time the hand that woke him wasn't on his shoulder.

It was down his boxers.

It took him a few seconds to remember to play asleep, so he shifted a little then settled back down in a position that gave Don's hand more room to maneuver.

Don nestled up behind him and a thrill ran through Charlie when he realized he didn't notice the sensation of fabric against fabric.

If Don was naked...

Charlie's cock twitched strongly in Don's hand and he closed his grasp around it, stroking it painfully slowly.

A blaze of euphoria ripped through Charlie's mind and body. He'd managed cold turkey for a few days, but the addiction was back stronger than ever.

He'd imagined Don's hand on him a thousand times, but all of his imaginings paled in comparison to the real thing. Strong yet gentle, clearly talented with just the right amount of pressure and a twist at the top.

Playing along - which mostly meant doing exactly what he would have wanted were he awake and not feigning sleep - he ground his ass back against Don's cock, reveling in the thickness of it between his ass cheeks.

Don ground back, humping him slowly in time with his hand's movements - nothing abrupt, nothing that might wake someone who was sleeping. Almost deliberately so.

Charlie wanted to think this new data through, to try to figure out if Don really was awake and plotting same as him - but the hand on his cock was too good, too much of what he wanted, needed, craved for him to think.

He came faster than he would have liked, gasping his way through helplessly. Don's hand stilled on his cock at the unexpectedly loud noise and Charlie made sure to settle down quickly and let his breathing return to normal as if he'd never woken.

Don extracted his hand and then unexpectedly started tugging Charlie's boxers down.

Charlie's brain lit up with a combination of panic and sexual electricity.

Was Don going to fuck him, for real? What did he want? How could he be asleep and still do this?

Should he stop him?

It's not like they'd had the talk about sex and guessing how much Don had slept around he worried about not using a condom, because since when would someone put on a condom in their sleep?

Don pulled the boxers down, but not off, and haphazardly slathered Charlie's come from his hand into the crack of his ass.

Don's gracelessness wasn't a comfort this time.

The head of Don's cock nudged against his ass and he reflexively tensed.

Taking hold of his hip, Don just rocked his cock between the slippery globes, making no effort to actually penetrate. After a couple of minutes of quietly frenzied thrusting he came messily over Charlie's ass and fell dormant.

Charlie waited, but Don didn't move, his spent cock still lying against Charlie's exposed ass.

This was evidence, he thought. No way both of them could wake up and not know something had happened.

His mind raced through the probabilities: that Don was awake and thought he was too, that Don was awake and thought Charlie wasn't, that Don himself was asleep...

Finally he tossed math aside and got up for some wet washcloths. He cleaned himself up in the bathroom and switched to fresh pair of boxers then carefully cleaned up Don with the second one, burying it in the hamper afterwards.

The next day at breakfast Don made pancakes. More carb loading. Business as usual.

Only not for Charlie.


Math was a joke. All he could think about was sucking Don's cock, Don's body on top of his, Don fucking him...

If teenage males were supposed to think of sex every seventeen seconds then he was clearly skewing the average.

At this point he dreaded the start of school and took down all the calendars, not even wanting to face that there would be a day when Don would go back to his real life and he'd be stuck: an addict without a supplier.

It was too late to change grad schools to go somewhere on the west coast in September, but the idea of being 3000 miles away from that body, that taste, that intoxicating presence, was too much to bear.

For once in his life he actually wanted a therapist, but what good would that do? He could never tell anyone - ever.

Even without the calendars he knew his time was running out.

So he broke the air conditioner on purpose.

Don bitched and called the repairman who said he could probably make it out the next day.

Cursing up a storm, Don stripped down to his boxers and put all the fans on high.

Charlie didn't shower. For once he wanted to be sweaty.

He just went to his room to jack off until it was time for bed.

Don disappeared for a bit and returned home looking a bit flushed.

Charlie wasn't sure if he'd gone for a run, just been out in the heat too much or if he'd had alcohol.

He just said his good nights as Don headed into the shower.

And waited.


A creaking door had become a Pavlovian reaction to him. That one sound got him hard as soon as he heard it.

Don's footfalls were near silent - he'd always been good at that - but the dip of his bed was unmistakable.

Charlie was ready: naked, sheets off, fans on high.

He'd even prepared himself with lube he'd stolen from Don's shaving kit, turned on by the feel of his own fingers in his ass.

Don slung an arm around him, same as usual, only this time he was naked too.

The wait was interminable. Hard as he was he couldn't react too quickly, he had to be convinced Don was asleep and he had to be convincing as being asleep.

Finally he shifted, seemingly accidentally brushing his ass against Don's groin, and the game was on.

Don nestled in closer, his burgeoning erection nestled against Charlie's thigh. After a while he started rubbing lightly against Charlie, growing harder by the minute.

Then Charlie executed his plan.

Pretending to resettle in his sleep, he pulled his pillow from under his head and pulled it towards his stomach, curling around it even though that meant pulling away from Don. He waited a few seconds then shifted again, as if finding that position unsatisfactory. Finally, with a flustered exhalation, he turned on his stomach, legs splayed out - laying on top of the pillow he'd put there ostensibly by accident in his sleep.

He pillowed his head on his arms and settled back down, breathing quietly and evenly.


Eventually Don rolled over and turned away on his side.

Flustered and sexually frustrated, Charlie ground his teeth. What did he expect? Don would just fuck him by invitation?

It was late enough that when he decided to give up and fall asleep it wasn't hard. Just disappointing.


This had to be a dream.

It had to be.

The pressure, the weight all felt right.

The body lying between his legs, making his cock throb, could only be Don's.

But the cockhead breaching his hole, splitting him open?

That couldn't be real.

But if it wasn't, why would it hurt like that?

Hypersensitive, he fought to relax and the pain passed.

This was happening.

He was still on his stomach, still with the pillow beneath him - hips canted up - only now Don was on top of him - fucking him.

Oh god...

Don withdrew just enough for the head to pop free then pushed in again, with steady pressure.

Still slicked up from his earlier preparations, he felt the intimate entry consume him, inflame him, and he helplessly raised his hips in hungry response: more.

Don sank in another inch with Charlie's unexpected movement, but immediately pulled out.

Charlie's heart beat so loud he could hear it in his ears. Had he spooked him? No, no... He needed this. Please, he begged to whatever deity might be listening. I need this. Please.

After a brief pause, Don sank the head of his cock back in, seemingly content to go no further.

Having this, having Don, but not having all of him was killing him.

Greedy, he wanted the whole fantasy: Don sunk to the hilt in his ass, pounding him until they both exploded together.

Wanting to encourage him, but not wanting to seem awake, Charlie made little murmuring noises like Don had before, little breathy pleases along with a slight rocking of his hips.

Don took the bait.

He sank inside, burying himself in Charlie's tight heat.

Once he was fully seated, he moved just so.

Charlie's mind shorted out.

Dead, alive, heaven, hell - there were no boundaries, just the most sinful illicit pleasure ever, nerve endings singing their way through his body and into Don's where they connected.

Then Don really started to move and Charlie was lost.

The friction of his cock against the pillow, Don pounding the spot inside him that made the earth open up and swallow him, the absolute wrongness and perfect rightness of what they were doing all balled into one perfect sphere of sex, love, life, death, horror, ecstasy.

And then it exploded.

"Buddy, wake up. You're having another nightmare."

He had to have blacked out, there was no other explanation, only Don had boxers on and was standing over his bed.

Don got into bed with him, like he'd never been there, and just went to sleep.

But Charlie could feel where Don had been, could still feel the aftershocks shimmering under his skin.

This had been real.

Don and he had connected in the way he'd always wanted.

Only he still wasn't sure if Don knew about it.


The air conditioner got fixed, but Charlie didn't go back to wearing boxers to bed.

It made him feel more adult to sleep in the nude, like he was more of Don's peer than his little brother.

That and the sex.

Charlie prepared every night and Don didn't disappoint.

The next night he came back, wrapped himself so tightly around Charlie he couldn't shift onto his stomach, then fucked him spooned together from behind as Charlie jacked his own cock in time with his shallow thrusts.

The next night Charlie took a chance and sucked him off again. It was worth it.

Emboldened, he waited until the next night to try something truly dangerous.

He waited until Don was long settled then slipped out of his arms to move up to the top of the bed.

He presented his already leaking cock to Don, letting the head graze his lips until he automatically opened his mouth.

It took a few short penetrations before he seemed to catch on and closed his mouth to suck.

Charlie only lasted a minute and was sure to pull out before he came, but it had been almost impossible to hold out with those perfect lips bowed around his shaft.

Pure hubris fueled him; he no longer felt any sort of boundaries of propriety. This time - this bed - was a place free of morals and ethics and even self. He and Don were one here - each took what they wanted and offered whatever was needed.

At least that's what he told himself as he tried to roll Don to lay on his stomach on a pillow.

He'd gotten drunk a few times, tried pot once, but nothing compared to the rush of watching his cock sink bareback into Don's ass. The tight heat, the pressure, it was too much and it was all he could do to bite back his gasps as he lay there fully sheathed and unable to move without crying out in the throes of ultimate passion.

A few long slow strokes, trying to maintain some semblance of control, and it was over - his cock pulsing hot into Don's still ass, emptying his self, his soul, into the vessel that had already claimed his life.

That morning Don got up and did his three mile run, same as normal.

Charlie woke with a new kind of clarity, got up and vomited into the toilet, filled with shame at what he'd done.


Through a series of subtle experiments, data gathering and statistical analysis he'd convinced himself that Don couldn't be awake for these encounters, merely experiencing some sort of sleepwalking type phenomena.

Therefore it was tantamount to rape.

And yet sick as he was, every night he'd leave his door unlocked, waiting for that creak.

As if to prove himself wrong, he pushed the boundaries - letting the sex get more active, less careful. He reacted more: rising up to meet Don's strokes, sucking his cock more avidly, even kissing him on the mouth at one point, though he recoiled when it seemed that might be enough to wake him.

Still, he kept up his end just in case - keeping his eyes shut so that Don would think he was asleep. He only stole glances when he was sure Don wasn't looking, like when he was going down on him or behind him.

There was one thing they hadn't tried yet and Charlie wanted it. He made sure he planted himself on his back and would not be moved.

When Don tried, he resisted enough that he soon gave up.

Then he shifted position, bending his knee briefly before putting it back down.

His knee bent again, only this time Don was making it bend. He bent both legs back, slowly and carefully, as he lined his cock up with Charlie's already slicked entrance.

As he sank inside Charlie let escape a particularly telling moan, but didn't care. Don was inside him, that was all he wanted.

He took Don's weight on his legs, feeling the burn of the stretch in his thighs and in his ass, and welcoming it.

Don ploughed into him with abandon, each thrust wild, no longer measured as if he worried about Charlie waking.

Charlie met him with equal abandon, knowing they had only days before Don's departure and desperate to feed the ravenous beast within him while he could.

His hand went automatically to his own cock and he fucked his fist as Don unerringly drove into his prostate.

"Yes, yes, yes..." The words tumbled from his lips: a plea, a prayer, a validation.

He could die happy now. His life was complete.

Don's hips snapped with a mesmerizing regularity, a metronome of sex, his rhythm, his clock counting off the seconds of his true life here in this bed.

And then he was spilling over his hand, the giddy kaleidoscope of pleasure hormones swirling in his brain as he road the wave Don's tide had drenched him in.

Blissed out, he felt Don stiffen between his legs and looked up to watch his face screw up in delicious agony as he came.

And then Don opened his eyes and saw him watching.


Dry heaves didn't produce anything, but Charlie stayed in the bathroom long after he heard Don go out the front door.

He'd ruined it.

There was no way either of them could deny it now, no way they could hide in the world of make believe Charlie had turned his bedroom into.

He'd not only lost his brother, he'd lost any chance he ever had of being with Don again.

He dragged himself to the kitchen and drank every beer Don had left until he threw them up too.

He tore through his drawers and found the pack of cigarettes he'd bought to experiment with once his mother left. He'd tried one then and decided it was disgusting - every bit the filthy habit his parents had warned him about.

He chain-smoked most of the pack - feeling as filthy as the cigarettes themselves - until the nicotine left him sicker than before, lying on the bathroom tile with his insides and his brain revolting against him.

He heard the front door open and sounds of activity in Don's room.

Every fiber of his being wanted to rush out, grab his brother and say... Say what? There was nothing he could say.

Less than ten minutes later, the front door closed again.

He didn't venture out for another hour, but when he did, he found a hastily scrawled note on the dining room table.

'Assistant Manager in Philly said he wanted to see me in action. Too good an op to pass up so I changed my flight to leave from there. Sorry had to leave early.'

An invented excuse, but one their parents would forgive him for.

Don always did want to chase his dreams.


He didn't have one anymore.

Thirty days after Don left, Charlie got his thirty-day chip at Narcotics Anonymous.

Just before he left Princeton for good, he got his year chip.

He never told them what drug he was kicking, just pretended like it had been prescription, but he survived the withdrawal.


Eventually he moved to England, got a flat with a hot blonde and went about his life as everyone expected him to.

Including, apparently, his brother.

Don congratulated him on his doctorate and on bagging Susan Berry.

But the distance between them never lessened.

Even the few times they were in the same room.

Emma DeMarais: BlueEyeemmademarais on December 10th, 2008 08:07 pm (UTC)
Please see Part 3 for Confession post.


Emma DeMarais
fredbassettfredbassett on December 10th, 2008 09:42 pm (UTC)
WOW, that was very impressive :)

Hot and angsty!
Emma DeMaraisemmademarais on December 10th, 2008 09:45 pm (UTC)
Thank you very much! Far more angst to come, trust me. ;-)
One Part Exuberance; Two Parts Obsession: be in my bunkpenguingal on December 10th, 2008 09:58 pm (UTC)
Jesus Christ, woman. I think you killed me! Or at least fried my brain. Damn. I'll just... well, I think the icon says it all.
Emma DeMaraisemmademarais on December 10th, 2008 10:28 pm (UTC)

Oh, that does my heart good to hear. Thank you. I was so afraid this fic would go over like a lead balloon. I may have taken a long break from writing Don/Charlie, but I had hoped the cesters would take me back after coming back with a vengeance this fall.

Speaking of, I hope you're feeling better this week!
One Part Exuberance; Two Parts Obsession: all smilespenguingal on December 10th, 2008 10:39 pm (UTC)
I am improving. Tonight I am ordering out for dinner because I am tired of eating soup and there's not much else in the house. :)

And of course the 'cesters would welcome you back with open arms!
Emma DeMaraisemmademarais on December 10th, 2008 10:46 pm (UTC)
Oh, that's good to hear! And yes, splurge on dinner! If I could send you groceries via one of those online supermarkets I would. I made soup for Mel yesterday and it got my domestic instincts going. LOL

I feel bad for falling by the cest wayside, but I signed up for 12 more episode related fic at eppescest so I figure 2009 will have plenty!
dream_in_a_jardream_in_a_jar on December 11th, 2008 03:24 pm (UTC)
Emma DeMaraisemmademarais on December 11th, 2008 07:42 pm (UTC)

/is kicking it old school style with this one/
rubynye on December 16th, 2008 04:26 pm (UTC)
Oh, Emma, EEEEEEEEEEEE. I'm woeking my way back to NUMB3RS, and oh what a story to break my fast with, full of desperation and addiction and sinful, hot, wrong desire. I'm so flushed I'll have to splash cold water on my face before I come back from my break!

I don't know if I can survive the next parts, and yet I absolutely must read them!

Emma DeMaraisemmademarais on December 17th, 2008 04:52 am (UTC)
LOL! What a great reaction! Thank you, my dear! You made my evening!

/fans you/
(Deleted comment)
Emma DeMaraisemmademarais on April 12th, 2010 04:46 am (UTC)
Re: *sobs*
Wow... I think I'm a bit in awe of this *comment*! I'm honored beyond belief at your words and feel almost guilty at them - like I didn't really earn it. This was, I admit, a very painful fic to *write* so I'll agree that I paid more to create this one than most others (Simon Says excepted - likely my post painful story to write ever).

So much of what I hope to do with my writing is to get people to *feel* - it really makes me feel proud to hear that my writing has affected you. I thank you so much for being willing to delurk and share those thoughts with me. /gives you cookies and milk and sets up a nice comfy chair for you to relax in/

FWIW it took me a while to get to this point so my advice? Keep writing! I got my million words in and kept going (there are some advantages to being prolific) but really the more stories you write the more you learn about writing stories - as long as you're open to learning. Some people also learn from reading - they have that 'how did they do that?' gene that makes them pick apart fiction to see how the author made it work. I'm not one of them, but whatever works. :-)

I have quite a humongous back catalog so it might take you a while to get through it! I'm not sure if you're going by memories or tags or just by month, but know that if you use tags at all I've seen there be some issue with LJ displaying all the tagged entries (mostly because I have so many).

In regards to Alan so many people just gloss over him (the whole he can never know/keep it a secret take on it) but I thought it would be a good challenge to have Alan find out and for the brothers to have to deal with the repercussions.

I've actually been thinking about a sequel to this fic as of late. It's called Cure and here's hoping your kind words will wake the muse and get her to consider starting it up.

Thank you so much for sharing your feedback with me and I hope to see more of you here on my LJ.

/gives you more cookies for good measure/
fractalmoonfractalmoon on November 24th, 2012 08:23 pm (UTC)
Just read part one - wow! I feel for Charlie.