Tired and Cold; Lost - Charlie/Desmond
Title: Tired and Cold
Fandom: Lost
Pairing: Charlie/Desmond
Word Count: 759
Rating: R
Summary: Charlie wants out of the rain, and finds Desmond's tent.
Beta: toestastegood
Author's Notes: Written on a whim for my beta. Using lostpicksix's prompt, insomnia.
It was fucking pouring out, and yet Charlie was walking around in the rain. He should've stayed in Claire's tent and tried to sleep, but between Aaron crying and the fact that he just couldn't sleep, he needed to walk. That would've been fine, if it was any other night.
It'd started out nice, but now it was pouring. Claire's tent was too far away and all he knew was that he was running, just running towards Desmond's tent. There were closer ones, but Sawyer scared him, Jack's had Kate in it, Sun and Jin had some weird connection going on lately that left him afraid of what he'd find when he entered, and Hurley had a strange habit of making shadow puppets at the crack of dawn. Desmond, though he sometimes smelled like a bar, was a nice alternative. And he didn't awake to a baby crying, either, which was always a plus.
As he ran, a small bag of clothes clutched in his hands, he couldn't see anything. It was too dark and even though it was just a few feet to Desmond's tent, he found himself stumbling. He nearly fell into the drowned out campfire, he nearly collapsed into the camp's drinking water... All he needed to do now was run into a tree.
That was narrowly avoided, but the roots were not. Instead he tripped on one and with a loud yell, fell to the ground in a flailing mess. A groan came and he rolled over, the rain pouring down in sheets. It was too hard to breath, and that was it, he was going to drown. Not from the plane nearly falling into a huge ocean, or from being on an island and not being able to swim, or from having crazy inhabitants who wanted them dead. He was going to die because he was too lazy to roll over.
"Brother, what the hell's wrong with you?" he heard and it sounded like the best voice in the whole world. It meant shelter as Desmond peeked out from his tent, a confused brow raised. Charlie just grinned up at him and stood up, then quickly scurried into his tent.
"Bloody cold out there!" Charlie complained as he pulled off his shirt, followed by his pants. They didn't care about being clothed anymore - they'd gotten over that worry weeks ago on a long, boring afternoon between a bottle of wine. It'd been fun, but a different kind of fun than it was when Hurley was there and got drunk with them.
Desmond was rifling through his bag, looking for clothes, and sighed. "They're soaked."
That left Charlie with one thing to do. Maybe he'd hit his head too hard on the way down, or maybe he was just going hypothermic. But he found that it made perfect sense to lay there in the cold of night, naked. "Guess I don't need clothes then." Just as he began to rock his feet back and forth, lounging comfortably on Desmond's makeshift bed, the man moved over him to kiss him.
A small smirk, a grin, and Charlie pushed him away. "Nope. You use me too much." The dumbfounded look on Desmond's face was enough to make him give a giggle, something that surprised even him, before he straddled the other. Desmond's jeans were uncomfortable and he knew eventually they'd come off, but as he rocked lightly, it was alright.
"I like... I like it more like this," he murmured. "Just us," he tried to explain, but it didn't make sense, he knew that.
"It's always just us. Unless you're sleeping with Claire. Which is sort of--" Desmond's voice hitched halfway through, and Charlie grinned. "Difficult when she's looking at Sun all day."
"Mhmm." Charlie didn't care anymore about the conversation. Instead he found himself rocking gently as he played with Desmond's hair, and had to wonder how it was that long. Then he found himself wondering if it was wrong to let his mind wander during sex. It had to be, after all. Yet as Desmond grabbed him and pulled him down, closer, he gasped and didn't care.
It felt too good. Quick movements, hard thrusts against one another, his hair still dripping against Desmond's dry clothes. Just minutes later he came with a shout and Desmond followed after, though so much quieter. He never expressed himself, always quiet as if someone would overhear.
As they lay back, one clothed and one not, both messy and wet, Charlie figured maybe he'd done alright if Desmond was calm. But as Desmond drifted off, he found himself cursing because he still wasn't tired.
Fandom: Lost
Pairing: Charlie/Desmond
Word Count: 759
Rating: R
Summary: Charlie wants out of the rain, and finds Desmond's tent.
Beta: toestastegood
Author's Notes: Written on a whim for my beta. Using lostpicksix's prompt, insomnia.
It was fucking pouring out, and yet Charlie was walking around in the rain. He should've stayed in Claire's tent and tried to sleep, but between Aaron crying and the fact that he just couldn't sleep, he needed to walk. That would've been fine, if it was any other night.
It'd started out nice, but now it was pouring. Claire's tent was too far away and all he knew was that he was running, just running towards Desmond's tent. There were closer ones, but Sawyer scared him, Jack's had Kate in it, Sun and Jin had some weird connection going on lately that left him afraid of what he'd find when he entered, and Hurley had a strange habit of making shadow puppets at the crack of dawn. Desmond, though he sometimes smelled like a bar, was a nice alternative. And he didn't awake to a baby crying, either, which was always a plus.
As he ran, a small bag of clothes clutched in his hands, he couldn't see anything. It was too dark and even though it was just a few feet to Desmond's tent, he found himself stumbling. He nearly fell into the drowned out campfire, he nearly collapsed into the camp's drinking water... All he needed to do now was run into a tree.
That was narrowly avoided, but the roots were not. Instead he tripped on one and with a loud yell, fell to the ground in a flailing mess. A groan came and he rolled over, the rain pouring down in sheets. It was too hard to breath, and that was it, he was going to drown. Not from the plane nearly falling into a huge ocean, or from being on an island and not being able to swim, or from having crazy inhabitants who wanted them dead. He was going to die because he was too lazy to roll over.
"Brother, what the hell's wrong with you?" he heard and it sounded like the best voice in the whole world. It meant shelter as Desmond peeked out from his tent, a confused brow raised. Charlie just grinned up at him and stood up, then quickly scurried into his tent.
"Bloody cold out there!" Charlie complained as he pulled off his shirt, followed by his pants. They didn't care about being clothed anymore - they'd gotten over that worry weeks ago on a long, boring afternoon between a bottle of wine. It'd been fun, but a different kind of fun than it was when Hurley was there and got drunk with them.
Desmond was rifling through his bag, looking for clothes, and sighed. "They're soaked."
That left Charlie with one thing to do. Maybe he'd hit his head too hard on the way down, or maybe he was just going hypothermic. But he found that it made perfect sense to lay there in the cold of night, naked. "Guess I don't need clothes then." Just as he began to rock his feet back and forth, lounging comfortably on Desmond's makeshift bed, the man moved over him to kiss him.
A small smirk, a grin, and Charlie pushed him away. "Nope. You use me too much." The dumbfounded look on Desmond's face was enough to make him give a giggle, something that surprised even him, before he straddled the other. Desmond's jeans were uncomfortable and he knew eventually they'd come off, but as he rocked lightly, it was alright.
"I like... I like it more like this," he murmured. "Just us," he tried to explain, but it didn't make sense, he knew that.
"It's always just us. Unless you're sleeping with Claire. Which is sort of--" Desmond's voice hitched halfway through, and Charlie grinned. "Difficult when she's looking at Sun all day."
"Mhmm." Charlie didn't care anymore about the conversation. Instead he found himself rocking gently as he played with Desmond's hair, and had to wonder how it was that long. Then he found himself wondering if it was wrong to let his mind wander during sex. It had to be, after all. Yet as Desmond grabbed him and pulled him down, closer, he gasped and didn't care.
It felt too good. Quick movements, hard thrusts against one another, his hair still dripping against Desmond's dry clothes. Just minutes later he came with a shout and Desmond followed after, though so much quieter. He never expressed himself, always quiet as if someone would overhear.
As they lay back, one clothed and one not, both messy and wet, Charlie figured maybe he'd done alright if Desmond was calm. But as Desmond drifted off, he found himself cursing because he still wasn't tired.