Numb3rs Fic: Eleven Imaginary Men
Posted to numb3rs_slash
Title: Eleven Imaginary Men (Companion Fic to Nine Imaginary Men)
Pairing/Characters: Don/Colby, Don/David, Don/Ian, Don/Alvin, Don/Howard, Don/Oswald, Don/Marshall, Don/Larry, Don/Tim, Don/Billy, Don/Charlie
Rating: NC17
Spoilers: Seasons 1-5
Summary: Imaginary Don makes an excellent masturbatory fantasy for a lot of men
Notes/Warnings: Read the disclaimer on my LJ
Colby set the shower to hot and let it pound down on his body, washing the last of the cordite and sweat away until he smelled it again on Don coming up behind him. The hard cock pressed up against his ass was exactly he wanted, but when Don's gun-callused hand wrapped around his erection he was torn, wanting both, all, everything - now.
David always won at pickup games, yet he all but let Don steal the ball, let him make the winning basket and then let him drag him behind the garage in the dwindling twilight. Don's order to assume the position came with a chuckle that sent a chill down his spine; Don's hands frisking him, freeing him, bending him over - that heated him back up fine.
Ian followed the rules: he tracked Don and caught him, he was fair game. So having Don spread out and bound on his hotel room bed - all those toned muscles and that perfect round ass just there for his pleasure - was a treat he intended to savor and he did, sliding his slick cock into that tight heat so slowly he could feel every delicious inch of victory.
Alvin didn't feel quite so tall and powerful on his knees, especially with Don's fist buried taut in his hair. Watching Don open up those jeans one-handed was tantalizing and his mouth watered when Don all but presented his cock to suck, edging forward on his knees to take Don's hard length into his mouth, body humming as Don called him a good boy.
Howard sat at his desk, ego swelled by winning a Hail Mary case - a decisive win in the courtroom that had also won him a bet with one Agent Don Eppes at the FBI. He leaned back, enjoying the view of the city out his windows as Don knelt under his desk, those sinful lips wrapped around his cock, sucking him off while he sucked on a Cuban cigar.
Oswald showed up to Charlie's office, but it was his brother Don sitting behind the desk, not his mentor. Don ordered him to lock the door, ordered him to strip off his clothes, ordered him to put his hands behind his back - the click of the cuffs on his wrists just as much of a thrill as Don's rough voice in his ear, talking dirty as he jacked Oswald off.
Marshall made sure he 'forgot' to lock the office door because the only thing better than fucking Charlie's brother was going to be the look on Charlie's face when he saw his hero screwing his rival. That and Don was hot enough to make Marshall want proof he'd been worthy of Don impatiently clearing Charlie's desk with a swipe of his arm before the sex.
Larry didn't allow himself to indulge in such decadence as pornography, however there were some sights that a man had to allow as worthy of titillation. Watching Don shower, that slow act of soaping up a muscular frame then stroking a cock to hardness, was definitely on Larry's list of views that were worthy of taking matters into his own hands.
Tim started to peel his gear off when a second set of hands appeared, helping him shed heavy body armor, removing layers of sweat-soaked clothing until only skin remained. Adrenaline fueled sweat-slick bodies smashed against each other - skin on skin - held up only by the lockers as friction and cordite mixed, explosive, as he and Don ignited.
Billy slipped the bartender a twenty to look the other way then dragged Don into the dark back room. Messy open-mouthed desperate kisses were paired with frantic hands opening up each other's pants as they jacked each other off with careless brusqueness - his whiskey-rasped groans buried in Don's neck, Don's teeth buried in his shoulder.
Charlie was shaking in a corner of the garage, but then Don showed up - white bandages still marked with fresh blood - and Charlie threw himself into his brother's arms, distraught. Don pressed consoling kisses to his temple until Charlie raised his head, demanding a real kiss with his mouth and demanding proof of life with his body.
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Title: Eleven Imaginary Men (Companion Fic to Nine Imaginary Men)
Pairing/Characters: Don/Colby, Don/David, Don/Ian, Don/Alvin, Don/Howard, Don/Oswald, Don/Marshall, Don/Larry, Don/Tim, Don/Billy, Don/Charlie
Rating: NC17
Spoilers: Seasons 1-5
Summary: Imaginary Don makes an excellent masturbatory fantasy for a lot of men
Notes/Warnings: Read the disclaimer on my LJ
Colby set the shower to hot and let it pound down on his body, washing the last of the cordite and sweat away until he smelled it again on Don coming up behind him. The hard cock pressed up against his ass was exactly he wanted, but when Don's gun-callused hand wrapped around his erection he was torn, wanting both, all, everything - now.
David always won at pickup games, yet he all but let Don steal the ball, let him make the winning basket and then let him drag him behind the garage in the dwindling twilight. Don's order to assume the position came with a chuckle that sent a chill down his spine; Don's hands frisking him, freeing him, bending him over - that heated him back up fine.
Ian followed the rules: he tracked Don and caught him, he was fair game. So having Don spread out and bound on his hotel room bed - all those toned muscles and that perfect round ass just there for his pleasure - was a treat he intended to savor and he did, sliding his slick cock into that tight heat so slowly he could feel every delicious inch of victory.
Alvin didn't feel quite so tall and powerful on his knees, especially with Don's fist buried taut in his hair. Watching Don open up those jeans one-handed was tantalizing and his mouth watered when Don all but presented his cock to suck, edging forward on his knees to take Don's hard length into his mouth, body humming as Don called him a good boy.
Howard sat at his desk, ego swelled by winning a Hail Mary case - a decisive win in the courtroom that had also won him a bet with one Agent Don Eppes at the FBI. He leaned back, enjoying the view of the city out his windows as Don knelt under his desk, those sinful lips wrapped around his cock, sucking him off while he sucked on a Cuban cigar.
Oswald showed up to Charlie's office, but it was his brother Don sitting behind the desk, not his mentor. Don ordered him to lock the door, ordered him to strip off his clothes, ordered him to put his hands behind his back - the click of the cuffs on his wrists just as much of a thrill as Don's rough voice in his ear, talking dirty as he jacked Oswald off.
Marshall made sure he 'forgot' to lock the office door because the only thing better than fucking Charlie's brother was going to be the look on Charlie's face when he saw his hero screwing his rival. That and Don was hot enough to make Marshall want proof he'd been worthy of Don impatiently clearing Charlie's desk with a swipe of his arm before the sex.
Larry didn't allow himself to indulge in such decadence as pornography, however there were some sights that a man had to allow as worthy of titillation. Watching Don shower, that slow act of soaping up a muscular frame then stroking a cock to hardness, was definitely on Larry's list of views that were worthy of taking matters into his own hands.
Tim started to peel his gear off when a second set of hands appeared, helping him shed heavy body armor, removing layers of sweat-soaked clothing until only skin remained. Adrenaline fueled sweat-slick bodies smashed against each other - skin on skin - held up only by the lockers as friction and cordite mixed, explosive, as he and Don ignited.
Billy slipped the bartender a twenty to look the other way then dragged Don into the dark back room. Messy open-mouthed desperate kisses were paired with frantic hands opening up each other's pants as they jacked each other off with careless brusqueness - his whiskey-rasped groans buried in Don's neck, Don's teeth buried in his shoulder.
Charlie was shaking in a corner of the garage, but then Don showed up - white bandages still marked with fresh blood - and Charlie threw himself into his brother's arms, distraught. Don pressed consoling kisses to his temple until Charlie raised his head, demanding a real kiss with his mouth and demanding proof of life with his body.
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