Excitation Energy

by Nix
(crimsonquills AT gmail DOT com)


Author's Notes: Not betaed. Originally written for the Porn Battle.


Don drove home on autopilot. It'd been a long day--it was well past midnight when he left the office--but he wasn't tired. The exhaustion was there, but it lurked underneath a persistent vibration of nervous energy. The anxiety always came afterward, when the bust was over. Before, he was rock-solid.

It scared him sometimes to get in a car like this. It couldn't be good to spend half an hour on the road and not remember the drive. But he hadn't had an accident in years, and that time he'd been wide awake and aware of everything around him. At least, so he'd thought.

So he made the drive, the back-of-the-mind fear blending into the energy skittering over his nerves, and arrives safely in the basement of his building. The elevator takes him up to his floor and he finds his apartment on instinct. His key slides into the lock and turns smoothly. He once missed his place by one door and spent twenty minutes trying to figure out why his key wouldn't work. Fortunately, at two in the morning there hadn't been anyone to see.

The apartment isn't dark. The light above the stove is on, relieving the blackness just enough for Don to drop keys and jacket and gun in the right places. He turns it off and waits for his eyes to adjust, then makes his way to the bedroom by the glow of L.A.'s city lights leaking through the drapes.

He eases the bedroom door open and stands there for a moment.

Mac is sleeping on his side, curled up a little. The sheets have slipped down to his waist. They always do that when he's alone in bed. Don smiles to himself and steps into the room, closing the door carefully and undressing in the not-quite-dark, leaving his clothes where they fall.

Not so long ago, Don's autopilot would have been as likely to take him to Charlie's place as to his apartment. The house with his family in it had felt more like home, even if he'd slept here most of the time. It's amazing how quickly Mac changed that.

Don lifts up the sheets and eases into bed, trying not to wake his lover. It's futile, of course. The moment the mattress shifts Mac's eyes flutter and open. "You're home," he murmurs, voice rougher than usual with sleep.

"Yeah," Don whispers. He scoots up close to Mac and lies down. "Go back to sleep."

"You won't sleep." Mac sounds even more awake than before.

Don smiles wryly. Mac can always tell when the baseless anxiety is richocheting around inside him. "I'll rest."

Mac's response is to hum noncommitally and slide closer until their legs tangle together and he's near enough to kiss. He puts an arm over Don's waist and flattens his hand against Don's back, holding him as he turns his head a little and makes that kiss happen.

It's is slow and sweet and Don eases into it, closing his eyes and letting the gentle touch of Mac's lips and hands and body overwhelm the unwelcome energy leftover from the case. Mac's thigh pushes between his and Don shifts just enough to give him space. He's only half hard, but the pressure Mac's thigh, warm and solid, against his cock is enough to rouse him the rest of the way.

Don breaks the kiss and takes a moment to breathe, rocking against Mac's body, before he brings their mouths together again. This time it's more intense, deeper, tongues sliding together, the two of them trading breaths. Mac's hand is pushing on Don's back, as if to pull him closer, though they're pretty well entwined already.

Never releasing Mac's mouth, Don worms a hand in between their bodies and finds Mac's cock, hot and starting to grow slick with precome. Mac gasps into his mouth and then the two of them are shifting, just enough to bring their cocks together so that Don can wrap his hand around them both.

They break the kiss, their foreheads pressed together as shudders wrack their bodies. Don can feel Mac's breath on his face: hot, short bursts of air as he pants. Don moves his hand, enjoying the thick weight of the both of them across his palm and the way he can make Mac's breath slow or catch or speed up with the touch of his fingers.

There's a tiny, telltale catch in Mac's breath and then he moans, softly, and comes. The warm, slick rush of it over his fingers and his cock is enough for Don. He shudders through his own climax and sinks deep into the bed when it's done, still and quiet inside.

--End--