[identity profile] castalie.livejournal.com posting in [community profile] rareslash
Hi there *g*

Title: Connection
Author: Castalie
Fandom: Players
Pairing: Ice/Charlie
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Huh yeah, we're going to have a problem here cause it's pure PWP. No really. So that's my summary, PWP.


Connection

At first glance, one wouldn't think of Isaac 'Ice' Gregory and one Charlie O'Bannon sharing the same space, much less the same bed. They didn't have anything in common; they were simply too different. Apart from each being a conman, they didn't even belong to the same world.

Well, Ice never cared about what 'people' could think, and he was nothing if not a philosopher and a pragmatic. He knew not to deny himself something that was so obviously good for him, that perfectly fit into his life – and Charlie was definitely that something.

What Ice wanted, Ice got – and, locking his eyes with his lover's, drinking the sight of the body arched beneath him, flushed, hard, slicked with sweat, and looking so fucking hot, he couldn't help but think that what he got, he kept – fiercely, if need be.

Ice thrust again but, instead of pounding hard and fast -- as he'd done previously -- into his lover's pliant body, he slowed the movement and sheathed himself again oh so slowly inside his piece of ecstasy. He was sure he was going to explode from the heat; Charlie was so tight and hot, it felt like heaven and hell. Heaven because few things in life were as good as being buried deep in his lover's ass; not even a successful con made him feel so alive or more powerful than when he was making love to Charlie. Hell because he never wanted the pleasure to end, but knew he wouldn't be able to resist for too long. He shuddered in time with Charlie when he heard the younger man cry his name, his voice hoarse.

His hands tightened their hold in Charlie's hair and he bent down to kiss his lover deeply. As the legs wrapped around his waist clasped him even tighter, he chuckled and nibbled Charlie's lips. Someone wanted to be fucked hard and fast apparently, but as he always did when they were in bed -- and Ice used the term 'bed' very loosely -- Charlie didn't say the words aloud, he used his body to speak for him. Ice bit the collarbone hard enough to leave a mark, to show his lover he'd been heard loud and clear, and smiled predatorily at him at the thought that always came to him during those intimate moments -- this Charlie was totally his; this Charlie belonged to him and no one else.

Everyone else got the other Charlie O'Bannon -- the one who would beat your ears off with those endless and bordering neurotic speeches, the one who hated being in the front line and would tell you about it for hours and hours, the Charlie whose paranoia made you smile at first but also think twice about a particular detail in your con afterward because under the paranoid lecture, you usually found some carefully hidden truth; you just needed to listen, and both he and Alphonse knew how to do that. Everyone else got the insecure and phobic Charlie who seemed to add a new phobia to his list at each new mission they were given, and of course they got the brilliant and genius Charlie O'Bannon as well, whose idea of a game was to hack the most complex systems and who drove everyone at the bureau crazy. Ice knew and loved that Charlie, but he got so much more than that.

Ice got the sexy looks and the sometimes contemplative smiles, he got the sweeter-than-wine kisses or the incendiary caresses, the whispers in the dark and the laughters first thing in the morning, the soft touches and the maddening blowjobs. He was the one who knew that the only way to shut Charlie up was to fuck him, because only during those times would he keep mostly silent. Also, that the other conman was anything but insecure when it came to demanding what he needed, be it a harder pounding or a just a long hug. No matter the 'incarnation' though, there was something sweet about Charlie too, and that was another part of the attraction. Ice wanted to own everything, and he knew without a doubt and without being presumptuous that he did.

When the legs around him tightened their hold once more and pulled Ice even deeper into Charlie's body, he relented and started to fuck his lover in earnest. His cock slid with long but powerful strokes this time, giving them both what they craved. Charlie arched his head as pleasure rushed all over him, then winced as the hands in his hair pulled it a bit too hard, but didn't protest. He just licked his lips as if he couldn't get enough of his lover's taste and decided to up the ante.

Ice grunted when Charlie suddenly clenched around him from deep within his body; he impaled himself even deeper in the tight heat and just let go. His mind only had one goal now -- reach climax and mark Charlie. Ice wanted to claim him even if they would be the only ones to know the sign. He also wanted to see his lover come all over themselves, needed to see Charlie lose control and know that *he* was the one responsible for it.

When he felt he was on the edge, Ice swiftly pulled Charlie up against him while he simultaneously sat back on his heels. He had his lover right where he wanted, now straddling his lap, plastered against his front. He swallowed Charlie's gasp with a hard kiss when the sudden change of penetration sent new jolts of pleasure all over his lover. Then he firmly put the other man's arms around his neck and nuzzled the flushed cheek.

“Fuck yourself, Charlie. Make us both come,” he ordered hoarsely.

Charlie moaned but did as he was told. His whole body was shaking, and the cock inside him felt even bigger and harder in this position. He buried his head in the crook of Ice's neck, biting and licking at the sweaty skin, and he started a new rhythm; rocking up and down, he felt the cock slide inside him sensually, and revelled in the almost painful grip of Ice's hands on his thighs. There would be new bruises tomorrow. He kissed his lover's neck in a silent thank you for the new marking, then it was his time to let go of any thoughts. He had a new 'mission' to accomplish, and he never let Ice down.

When they finally came with each other's names on their lips, Ice pulled out of Charlie and pushed him back on the bed, covering him again. By morning, they would go back to work, go back to their unconventional job, and he'd face the other Charlie again, sharing him with everyone else, though he would know things everyone else was ignorant of. He would also be a different Ice himself, the one who conducted their cons like a maestro. But right now, it was just him and *his* Charlie in the room, and he intended on taking advantage of it until the very end of the night.

Fin

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