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fredbassettFandom: Numb3rs
Pairing/Characters: Don Eppes/Ian Edgerton
Rating: 18
Warning/Spoilers: None
Summary: Edgerton makes an error of judgment …..
Disclaimer: Not mine, no money made, don’t sue
Don Eppes lay sprawled on his own sofa, cum drying on his stomach.
Edgerton looked him up and down, like a cat watching a mouse, a slight smile on his normally impassive face.
Don was still fucking furious. Furious with the sniper, furious with himself and pretty damned hacked off with the world in general and his job in particular, although the latter almost went without saying these days.
But at the same time, he also had delicious aftershocks of pleasure inconveniently line-dancing up and down his spine which made it difficult to hate Edgerton, even knowing what the bastard had done. Even knowing what else those long fingers were capable of.
Don knew perfectly well that he was going to have a shit-load of regrets in the morning.
On top of which he was also going to have to face Megan, the rest of his team and Coleman’s lawyer. But none of that was going to be more difficult than facing himself, although just for once in his life, he wasn’t totally sure that he cared. Not at the moment, anyway.
In his line of work, Don had always subscribed to the view that actions spoke louder than words, and his own actions over the last few minutes had been pretty revealing. Even he had to admit that.
He’d basically just leant back and let Edgerton jerk him off.
And he hadn’t tried to stop him. And he hadn’t hit him afterwards. And he didn’t think he was going to, either.
In fact, the noises he’d made could quite probably have been described by an impartial observer, if there’d been one, as encouraging. And Don had a very nasty feeling that he’d accidentally managed to articulate some things that might have been better left unsaid. The don’t stop bit probably came into that category.
So why the hell had he done it? Or to be more accurate, why the hell had he let Edgerton do it to him? Why hadn’t he just made his excuses and gone to bed and spent the night with Mrs Palm and her Five Daughters in the time-honoured FBI manner.
Oh and the fact that Edgerton was the only guy who’d ever actually managed to scare him was another inconvenient fact he’d have to deal with at some point. Preferably later. Preferably much later.
Shit, Eppes, what’s wrong with you? Some sort of fucked up mid-life crisis? Dear Doctor, I’ve just watched a guy I know torture a suspect and it gave me a hard on. So I let him touch me up. Then I came in his hand. And I enjoyed it. Is this normal?
Yeah, even to him it sounded fucked up. Even copious amounts of booze couldn’t disguise that little fact.
Sure, he’d wondered sometimes what it might feel like to get up close and personal with another guy, but he’d never gone beyond wondering. OK, he didn’t exactly spend much time with women either, but that was the nature of the job, wasn’t it? Working for the Bureau didn’t exactly lend itself to relationships. But it didn’t mean that he fancied men, did it?
“Eppes, do you ever stop thinking?” the sniper’s voice was cool, controlled, faintly amused.
Don opened his eyes. “Do you ever stop being a bastard?”
Edgerton chuckled. Don Eppes was argumentative. The world was still turning on it’s axis.
And it was now Ian Edgerton who had the hard-on from hell.
By way of an answer he leant in close and swiped a tongue up Don’s neck, licking a trail of spilt beer from suddenly over-sensitive skin.
It drove another shiver up Don’s spine and his back arched involuntarily. Edgerton sucked at the base of his neck, teeth nipping along his collar bone and slid a hand up Don’s chest to stroke and tickle the hollow of his throat.
“Do you want another beer?” the question was murmured rather too close to Don’s ear for comfort and the shivers intensified.
What I probably want is your hand on my cock again. But for now I’ll settle for another beer. Even though you are trying to get me drunk.
Don nodded and watched as the other man uncoiled himself from the sofa and headed back to the kitchen, as long and lithe and controlled as a hunting cat, and twice as silent.
He stretched, grimacing slightly at the sticky mess on his stomach, already drying into the line of dark hairs leading down to his crotch. And as the other man settled back onto the sofa carrying another bottle, Don caught sight of the swift flash of yearning that jumped like small electric spark behind Edgerton’s normally unreadable dark eyes.
So, you want me, do you? But what if I don’t want to play this game any more, Ian? I’ve had my fun. I can stop now, before this goes too far. With another couple of beers inside me I can probably even get some sleep. And I’ll bet that’s more than you’re gonna manage right now, buddy.
Abruptly, not giving himself too much time to think, Don sat up and in one fluid movement, pulled the stained tee shirt over his head and dropped it on the floor.
The look he gave the sniper fell only a hair’s breadth short of open challenge.
Edgerton took a long, slow drink then lent over and carefully dribbled a trail of beer onto Don’s stomach.
The recipient of the unconventionally delivered alcohol gave a startled yelp and tried to grab the tee shirt to mop himself up, but a strong hand pushed him backwards and a cool tongue started to lap at his stomach, tracking lower, licking, kissing, teasing ………..
Oh shit, taking his tee shirt off suddenly didn’t seem like such a good idea after all.
What the hell was he doing letting Edgerton lap beer and cum off his stomach?
More to the point, what the fuck was he doing enjoying it?
A moment later, the cold mouth slid even lower and enveloped his still soft cock and started to suck and one hand insinuated itself into his jeans again and started stoking his balls. And he felt vaguely irritated that his jeans and pants were getting in the way of closer contact.
And something about the way his hips moved obviously managed to convey that irritation.
A moment later, Don found himself in possession of the beer bottle as Edgerton’s hands tugged insistently at the waistband of his jeans and dragged them and his underwear down over his hips. Then both hands were cupping his ass cheeks and everything was starting to feel interesting again..
He stopped cursing himself for the tee shirt stunt at exactly the point when the sniper went down on him again.
But even Don had to admit that there was something not entirely decent about being stark bollock naked on his own sofa while Edgerton was still fully dressed.
Actually, to be entirely truthful, there was something not entirely decent about lounging there drinking beer while another guy sucked his cock but that was something he preferred not to think too closely about right now. Especially as he was starting to get hard again.
“I suppose you’re gonna tell me that this is just another stress related reaction?” Even to his own ears, he hadn’t managed to achieve a casual tone.
Edgerton looked up, laughter dancing in his eyes, fanning the small spark of yearning and almost, but not quite, succeeding in driving away the haunted look of near exhaustion that he was intermittently failing to disguise.
“No, Agent Eppes, it’s a perfectly natural physiological reaction to being given a blow-job. And, for once in your exceedingly stubborn life, can’t you just shut the fuck up and enjoy it, or would you rather carry on asking dumb-ass questions?”
Don took a long swallow of beer and gave the question serious thought.
If it comes to dumb-ass questions, how about, why aren’t I trying to break your neck? Or, more to the point, what the hell are you doing with that finger?
Dear Doctor, I really do think this mid-life crisis is going a bit too far ………
He wriggled. The finger slipped in further. Edgerton sucked harder. Don nearly choked on the beer and the Dear Doctor monologue came to an abrupt end in a spray of alcohol.
“Edgerton, what the hell are you trying to do? Even my fucking doctor doesn’t get that personal!”
“Eppes, since when has your doctor ever gone down on you?”
Six beers on an empty stomach now meant that Don needed to give the question more consideration than it should have merited. A moment later he shook his head in a mixture of annoyance and confusion.
“I meant what the hell were you doing with your finger?”
Edgerton sighed and sat back on his heels. “If you need to ask me that, you’re probably drunker than you look.”
Don grinned and his usual frown lines vanished. “It’s surprising how sobering a finger up the ass can be.” He stood up and hitched his jeans back into place. “Enjoy the beer, Ian. We’ve an early start tomorrow, remember.”
And with that, Don sauntered casually into his bedroom, leaving Edgerton staring after him, torn between amusement and frustration.
Even the sniper had to admit that certain parts of the evening hadn’t gone exactly to plan.
And Don Eppes clearly hadn’t been quite as drunk as Ian Edgerton had originally believed.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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Date: 2007-10-23 09:08 pm (UTC)Feeling pity for Edgerton - now there's something I never thought would happen...
:-D
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Date: 2007-10-23 09:13 pm (UTC)And evil!Don is fun ............
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Date: 2007-10-23 10:05 pm (UTC)Waiting patiently (not!) for the next installment. *g*
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Date: 2007-10-24 05:13 pm (UTC)I'll try not to keep you waiting too long!
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Date: 2007-10-24 12:56 am (UTC)no other comment besides that....
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Date: 2007-10-24 05:13 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-10-24 01:11 am (UTC)*evil cackle*
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Date: 2007-10-24 05:14 pm (UTC)*careful with that trigger-finger Mr Sniper*
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Date: 2007-10-24 10:29 am (UTC)I find myself hopelessly addicted to fic's written by a certain floppy eared hound dog. Tears and split sides are often involved (occasionally damp pants as well - TMI, I know). This may be an early middle-aged crisis but frankly I don't care, I just want to know if you could prescribe some sort of steriods so she writes more, and soon?
::pities poor, blue-balled Ian::
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Date: 2007-10-24 05:15 pm (UTC)*floppy eared hound munches doggie-treats happily*
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Date: 2007-10-24 12:12 pm (UTC)There were many parts I'd like to quote but this is the one that sums up how much fun this was the read the best!
Great fic!
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Date: 2007-10-24 05:16 pm (UTC)Plot Bunnies keep biting my bum. Is that normal?
The Hound Dog
Thanks :)
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Date: 2007-10-24 05:22 pm (UTC)Seeequel!
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Date: 2007-10-24 05:54 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-10-25 02:44 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-10-25 02:47 pm (UTC)Looks like you might be working your way through Numb3rs fic :)
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Date: 2008-07-05 06:10 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-07-05 06:46 pm (UTC)