browngirl

Title: Tales Told
Pairing/Characters: Charlie / Amita; Don/Charlie discussed.
Rating: R
Spoilers: None at all.
Warnings: Het, slash, and incest.
Author's Notes: Inspired by several conversations and by Teeming With Secrets; written for

numb3rs100's Prompt #1, Conversation. Kinda-sorta a sequel to "What He Would Not". Also, my first contribution to the Merry Month of Masturbation.
Disclaimer: None of these characters or their settings belong to me.

"Oh, my God, I can't believe you!" Amita chuckles breathily, cloth rustling beneath her voice. "How old were you?"

"Do you really want to know?" Charlie grins, hiding his gasp under her incredulous laugh as he firms up his grips on the sleek phone and his own dick. He can't replicate the angle she tends to use on him, but with his eyes closed he can imagine her watching him, across the room instead of across the country.

"Ugh, no, I don't think I do. Mmm." A hotter, wetter sound than cloth moving echoes through the phone, rippling heat down Charlie's spine. "The precocious Professor Eppes. Tell me more."

"The demanding Dr. Ramanujan," Charlie murmurs, evoking another happy noise. "Where were we? Ah, yes. His shoulders, hard and muscular. I couldn't even dent them no matter how hard I squeezed." Charlie moves his hand in long slow strokes, humming with pleasure and memory. "He used to pin me, hovering just out of reach, grinning as he watched me struggle for way too long before he'd kiss me."

"I bet you liked that," Amita sighs, a tremor building in her voice. "That smile, those shoulders. He sounds pretty hunky. Was he an archaeologist? A geologist?"

Thinking of the next thing to tell her, Charlie remembers Don, pressing him down onto the couch, kissing him hard enough to knock all the thoughts from his head. "Nah," he replies, and if his voice shakes it's just with sex. "Not an academic, no one I knew from school."