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Sniper Dreams	By : IrenaAdler Category: M through R > NUMB3RS Views: 4954 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own NUMB3RS, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Sniper Dreams
- 1
Sniper Dreams—

Charlie lay comfortably on the couch in the solarium, his
eyes half closed against the warm afternoon sun. He was proud of the work that he’d done today
for Don, and for that arrogant sniper, Ian Edgerton. Maybe this time Ian would realize how helpful
Charlie’s math was. In the end, though,
it had come down to Edgerton looking through his scope at the target. That was what it always came down to.

Sleepily, Charlie thought about Edgerton’s hands wrapped
around a rifle. They were powerful
hands, hands that would hold, grip, imprison.
Ian’s strong, long body radiated feral energy. His eyes captured and assessed, flayed open a
person’s soul. So much power, so much
strength. If that strength was turned
against a person, that person died.

What if that strength
wasn’t turned against a person, but towards a person? Charlie felt a
sudden jolting throb go through him. God, what he must be like in bed … No sweet declarations of love, just pure, raw
sex. Charlie’s body began to throb
harder. Ian Edgerton would take what he
wanted, whatever he wanted.

Charlie felt a little guilty, fantasizing about someone
other than Colby, but strength turned Charlie on, and Ian’s strength was of a
very different type than Colby’s. And
Charlie would never fear Colby. Ian,
Charlie was afraid of.   His breath came
quicker at the idea of being under a man he was so afraid of. He wouldn’t want to be in that position in
real life, but in a fantasy it was awfully tempting …

Smiling, Charlie let his eyes drift closed and willed
himself to dream about Edgerton.

Charlie opened his eyes.
Ian Edgerton stood by the couch, his body outlined in the sun. Charlie said happily, “I’m dreaming.”

“Oh, you are, are you?”
Ian said, his voice warm but mocking, just like Charlie remembered.

“Yep,” Charlie said.
“So whatever we do is okay.”

Ian’s eyes lit up, a dark, predatory light that made Charlie
shiver. “Is that so?”

“Umm, yeah,” Charlie said, pulling back a little. Even in
his dreams, Ian scared him.

“So if I were to kiss you,” Ian said, moving forward with a
leonine grace, “You wouldn’t cry out?”

Charlie slowly shook his head.

“Too bad,” Ian murmured, coming even closer. Charlie scrambled up to a sitting position
and backed to the corner of the couch.

“Because I want you to cry out,” Ian continued.

Charlie swallowed hard and backed up even farther, pulling
his knees up in front of him.

“Promise you’ll scream for me,” Ian’s hands slid along the
couch toward Charlie’s legs.

Charlie’s mouth was dry.
Maybe this fantasy was a bad idea.
He willed the dream to change, for his father to come into the room and
stop Ian.

He must not have willed it hard enough, because no one came
into the room and Ian’s hands wrapped around Charlie’s ankles.

Ian jerked and Charlie was laid flat on his back on the
couch. Ian was suddenly braced above
him, their bodies only touching from the knees down.

“What do you say, Professor?” Ian said.

Charlie swallowed, staring at Ian’s mouth. It was a firm, definite mouth. What would it feel like against his? Charlie lifted his head slightly and that was
all the answer Ian needed. The full
weight of his body descended on Charlie, his lips crashed against Charlie’s. Ian’s tongue stabbed into Charlie’s mouth,
sucking in his gasp. Ian’s body was
heavy on his, pressing Charlie deep into the couch.

While attempting to hold his own in the kiss, Charlie ran
his hands down Ian’s back. It felt like
molded iron under his fingers. Ian
grabbed Charlie’s hands and held them above Charlie’s head. Charlie grunted in protest.

Ian lifted his head and smiled down at Charlie. It was a smile full of hunger, anticipation.
“You don’t get to touch me unless I say,” Ian said huskily. “I’m in charge here.”

Charlie’s eyes widened. “How will I know—“

“I’ll tell you,” Ian said firmly. “No questions, Professor, no
discussions. If you really want me to
stop something, call me Mr. Edgerton or tap three times.”

Charlie trembled under that gaze.

Ian gathered both of Charlie’s wrists easily in one of his
hands and brought his other hand down to rest on Charlie’s throat. “Otherwise, the only sounds I want to hear
from you are whimpers and moans.”

Charlie swallowed again, feeling the pressure of Ian’s hand
against his throat, the tight grip that held his wrists imprisoned. Charlie bit his lip and nodded.

“Good,” Ian purred and moved his hand from Charlie’s throat. He replaced his hand with his mouth, nipping
his way down his neck. Ian’s teeth were
sharp on Charlie’s tender skin. Charlie
pictured a trail of tiny red marks down his throat. Charlie lifted his chin, giving Ian full
access. Ian pulled the collar of
Charlie’s t-shirt down and sucked on the hollow of his throat.

Feeling the need for action, Charlie moved underneath Ian,
rubbing his body against Ian’s. He could
feel Ian’s belt buckle digging into his waist, his badge a sharp shape against
Charlie’s hip. Ian jerked Charlie’s
wrists backward, causing a twinge of pain to go down Charlie’s shoulders. Charlie froze.

“Still trying to be in charge, I see,” Ian said. With one fluid motion, he rolled off of
Charlie, stood up, and pulled Charlie to a sitting position, his hands still
above his head.

“What are you –“ Charlie gasped, before he could stop
himself. Ian smiled his wry smile and
shook his head.

“Do I need to gag you?”
Ian asked.

“No, Mr. Edgerton,” Charlie whispered. “Sorry.”

Ian nodded. He let go
of Charlie’s right wrist and twisted Charlie’s left wrist around behind his
back. With his other hand, Ian drew a
pair of handcuffs from the pouch at his waist.
Charlie’s breath quickened. Ian
moved to one side and Charlie felt the cool metal close over both wrists,
locking his hands behind him.

Ian stepped back and looked down at him. Charlie felt like a rabbit caught in the
sniper’s crosshairs. No, he felt like a
rabbit caught in the sights of a hungry lion.
Charlie trembled, fear and arousal merging together.

“Upstairs,” Ian commanded him. “Walk.”

Charlie staggered to his feet, made awkward by his bound
hands. He walked through the family
room, hoping to see his father or Don or Colby, but the room was empty.

Someone should be
here, Charlie argued with his dream brain.
Someone should come through the
door right now.

But no one did, and Charlie made his stumbling way up the
stairs. He got to the top of the stairs
and Ian said, “Stop.”

Charlie stopped, swaying slightly, as Ian did a quick check
of the upstairs rooms. Once Ian had
reassured himself that there was no one here, he pointed toward Charlie’s
bedroom. Charlie walked slowly through
the door.

His familiar room somehow seemed darker, more fraught with
possibilities. He stopped in the middle
of the floor and looked back at Ian. Ian
ignored him for the moment and did a thorough investigation of the room. His long fingers trailed across Charlie’s
desk, over his bookshelves, along his rumpled bedsheets.

With every touch, Ian claimed territory, until the room was
entirely his. Then he turned and smiled
at Charlie. Two steps and Ian grabbed
Charlie’s head and bent him back with the force of his kiss. Charlie felt bruises form on his lips as he
reflexively opened his mouth for Ian’s tongue.

Ian released him and shoved him backward, causing Charlie to
stumble and sit heavily on the bed. Ian
yanked Charlie’s t-shirt up and over his head.
It slid down his arms and settled around his handcuffed wrists. Ian pushed him back onto the bed and began
undoing Charlie’s jeans. He unzipped
them and Charlie obediently lifted his hips so Ian could slide the jeans down
his legs. Ian pulled off Charlie’s
sandals then his jeans. Charlie was left
only in navy-blue briefs that he didn’t remember putting on this morning.

Tossing the jeans aside, Ian raised his eyebrows. Charlie lifted his chin in a silent gesture
of defiance at the contempt he thought he saw in Ian’s eyes. Then Ian stepped closer and slid one strong
hand over Charlie’s thigh, and Charlie knew that he’d misread the sniper’s
expression.

“From the moment I saw you,” Ian said huskily, “all puffed
up and sure about your math, I knew I needed to teach you a lesson. Do you know what lesson that is?”

Charlie shook his head.
He had no idea what sort of lesson his dream-controlling unconscious
would think Ian wanted to teach him.

“To remember the animal brain,” Ian’s fingers trailed up
Charlie’s thigh, then up his bare chest.
“You spend too much time thinking, Professor. I am going to remind you what it means to
feel, without thought, from the deepest, most primitive parts of your brain.”

Charlie shivered.
Ian’s voice and touch were giving him goose bumps. He hoped he wouldn’t wake up anytime
soon.

Ian turned Charlie sideways, undid his cuffs from one hand
and tossed away Charlie’s shirt. Before
Charlie could breathe a sigh of relief, Ian pulled both of Charlie’s hands up,
looped the cuffs around a thick post on Charlie’s headboard, and clicked the
cuffs closed again.

Charlie lay flat on his back on the bed, his hands bound
above his head, and stared at Ian. Ian
just stood there, smiling his sniper’s
smile. Charlie felt very self-conscious
being nearly naked under that gaze. He
had to chew on his lip to stop himself from complaining or asking questions.

Ian watched him, like he knew Charlie’s inner struggle. Finally, Ian must have decided that Charlie
had stewed long enough. His eyes on
Charlie, Ian began to unbutton his shirt.

Underneath was a chest that seemed shaped from stone,
utterly smooth of hair. His nipples were
dark and hard and Charlie was happy to see some sign that Ian was also turned
on.

Ian left his shirt on but open and climbed onto the
bed. Charlie realized that Ian was still
wearing his heavy hiking shoes. For some
reason, that sent a fresh new jolt of arousal through Charlie.

Kneeling astride Charlie’s hips, Ian looked down at
Charlie. Charlie wanted to move, wanted
to touch, wanted to speak. Instead, he
bit his lip and whimpered. Ian smiled.

With a smooth movement, Ian pulled a long knife from a
sheath at his belt. Charlie gasped in
fear and couldn’t help trying to pull away.
Ian turned the knife in his hand, so the eight-inch blade caught the
light along its exquisitely sharp edge.

“Please,” Charlie begged. “Please, don’t.”

Ian leaned forward.
“Do you feel it?” he said throatily. “Do you feel the fear that rises in
your gut, comes from somewhere so deep and primal that it bypasses your
conscious mind?”

“Please,” Charlie said again, unable to look away from that
knife. “Please …”

“Yes,” Ian rumbled, “You feel it. Your blood pounds, your adrenaline
rises. Though you know you’re not
supposed to talk, you can’t help but plead for the knife to go away, to not
touch you.”

Slowly, excruciatingly slowly, Ian lowered the knife. Charlie tried to jerk away, but Ian held him
tightly between his legs. Charlie whined
in fear as the sharp edge came closer.

“Close your eyes,” Ian murmured.

Charlie’s eyes snapped to Ian’s face. “No, please.”

“Do I need to blindfold you?” Ian asked quietly.

Charlie fought a battle with himself. Would it be better to be physically capable
of seeing and choose not to, or would it be better to not be able to see,
whether he chose or not?

“No blindfold, Mr. Edgerton,” Charlie whispered. “Please, I want to be able to see when I
die.”

Ian smirked. “You’re
not going to die.”

“Okay, hurt a whole lot.”

“Shh,” Ian said, still quietly but with the strength of
command. “Trust me and close your eyes.”

Silently, Charlie closed them, wondering if he would ever
open them again.

He flinched when the cold steel of the knife touched his
skin, but he kept his eyes closed and his lower lip between his teeth so he
couldn’t speak. It didn’t hurt when it cut
along his chest, but he guessed that a knife that sharp wouldn’t hurt. It parted his skin, cell by cell.

Charlie squeezed his eyes tightly closed and gripped the
post his wrists were cuffed to. It’s only
a dream, it’s only a dream. The cold
slice of the knife came down again and again, traveling across his chest.

Unwillingly, the picture of Don’s chest when he’d gotten in
trouble came to his mind, with the hundreds of slash marks across his chest and
back.

Please stop, please
stop, Charlie silently begged, tears running down his face. Please
stop.

At last, the knife came down no more. “Very good,” Ian said warmly. “You can open your eyes now.”

Charlie pried his salt-encrusted eyelids open and stared
down at his chest. It was unmarked. He looked up at Ian, who was smiling his
sideways smile. He showed Charlie that
he’d been using the back side of the knife, the dull side, to “cut” Charlie’s
chest. Charlie sobbed in relief.

“Very good,” Ian said, setting the knife aside. “You’ve experienced fear, fear of injury and
death. Now you feel joy, the thrill of
being alive and whole.   Next is pain …
and pleasure. But first, a break.”

Charlie blinked at Ian, trying to catch his breath. Ian moved off of him and stood up.

Reaching up, Ian unlocked the handcuffs and brought Charlie’s
arms down to his sides. Charlie lay
quietly and watched as Ian undressed.
The sniper’s body was smooth and sculpted in a way different than
Colby’s. Where Colby was flesh and blood
and bulk, Ian was iron and wire and strength.
Soon, Ian was naked before him, no sign of discomfort. He stood as Charlie’s eyes traveled over him.

When Charlie was done with his perusal, Ian stepped out of
the room. Charlie waited, his breathing
finally returning to normal, until Ian returned with a bottle of lotion and a
wet washcloth. He sat on the edge of the
bed and gently wiped the tear stains from Charlie’s cheeks with the
washcloth. Charlie watched Ian’s face,
trying to understand this enigmatic man.

“You’re thinking again,” Ian chastised him. “Let go of your thoughts. Just feel.”

Ian squirted lotion into his palms. Taking each of Charlie’s hands, he gently
rubbed lotion into the red skin where the handcuffs had dug into Charlie’s
wrists. When he was finished with that,
he turned Charlie over onto his stomach.
His strong hands kneaded and massaged Charlie’s shoulders and arms,
easing the ache from his earlier position.

Charlie was feeling quite relaxed when Ian turned him back
over. Ian smiled down at him, running
one long finger down Charlie’s chest.
Then he took Charlie’s wrists and re-cuffed them to the bed above his
head.

Ian stood and went over to Charlie’s desk. He opened a drawer and pulled out something that
Charlie couldn’t see. He came back to
the bed and sat down next to Charlie. He
leaned over and touched his lips to Charlie’s.
Charlie lifted his head to strengthen the contact and Ian’s mouth smashed
down on his, driving Charlie into the mattress.
Ian’s tongue pierced through Charlie’s lips and plundered his
mouth. Ian’s mouth left his and moved
down his throat, biting and kissing. He
traveled quickly down Charlie’s chest until he reached Charlie’s left nipple. He sucked and teased it to hardness, then
continued to suck on it while pulling on Charlie’s chest hair. The dual sensations soon had Charlie
squirming, his cock already throbbing.
Ian shifted and gave Charlie’s right nipple the same treatment.

Lifting his head, Ian produced the items that he’d taken
from Charlie’s desk – two black binder clips.
He took one in each hand and quickly clipped them onto Charlie’s hard
nipples. Charlie yelped in surprise and
pain. The pain soon turned into a sharp
prickle.

Ian’s long, strong fingers moved downward, stroking
Charlie’s stomach and hips, then his legs all the way down to his feet. Ian’s touch battled for Charlie’s attention
with the pain in his nipples. Coming
back up his legs, Ian’s hands went at last to Charlie’s groin, stroking
Charlie’s cock through his underwear.
Charlie involuntarily lifted his hips, moving toward Ian’s too-light
contact. Ian shook his head and lifted
his hands away. Charlie whimpered in
protest.

The knife was in Ian’s hand again. Charlie’s eyes widened and he wondered if Ian
was going to cut him for real this time.
Ian smirked and brought the knife down toward Charlie’s cock.

Charlie couldn’t suppress a “No!”

Three slashes and Charlie’s underwear fell away, sliced
neatly from his body. Ian put the knife
away again and Charlie shuddered in relief.

Ian returned to Charlie’s chest and took the clips in each
hand. He captured Charlie’s eyes with
his own then removed the clips. Pain
shot through Charlie’s chest as blood rushed back into his nipples. His back arched and he gasped as the burning
heat bloomed in his chest. Ian stroked
Charlie’s cock, distracting him. Charlie
groaned as once again dual sensations of pleasure and pain fought for his
attention. The pain in his chest faded
to a throbbing heat and Ian’s sure hands teased his cock and balls until
pleasure was all he felt.

A drop of pre-cum formed on the head of Charlie’s cock and
Ian swiped it off with one finger. He
reached up and smeared the pre-cum along Charlie’s lips. Charlie licked it off, tasting the sharp,
salty liquid. Ian’s eyes narrowed, like
a cat who was pleased, his strong mouth curving into a smile of fearsome
anticipation. Charlie trembled.

Standing, Ian unlocked the handcuffs from the
headboard. He gave Charlie’s wrists and
shoulders a quick, blood-circulating rub.

Ian straightened up and said, his voice rough and throaty,
“Turn over.”

Charlie swallowed his own surge of anticipation and rolled
over, throwing off the remains of his favorite pair of briefs. Ian reattached the cuffs to the headboard
then ran his hands down Charlie’s entire body.
His hands turned and he ran his fingernails up the other way, sending shivers
throughout Charlie. Desperately, Charlie
resisted the urge to rub his cock between his body and the bed. He didn’t want this to end too quickly.

The sound of lotion being squeezed out of a bottle brought
another shiver. Charlie felt Ian’s
lotioned fingers at his asshole then abruptly pressing in. It wasn’t gentle – it was rough, burning,
demanding that Charlie open up to him.
Charlie struggled to relax his muscles, knowing that Ian wouldn’t wait
long.

Indeed, Ian quickly removed his fingers and Charlie heard
him apply more lotion, presumably to his cock.
What Charlie didn’t hear was
the sound of a condom package being opened.
He bit his lip as he realized that Ian was going to go bareback. Snipers didn't worry about safety. Frissons of fear and arousal went through
Charlie. Ian Edgerton was going to fuck
him now, and there was nothing Charlie could do about it. Forget his safe word. Ian took what he wanted, when he wanted it,
the way he wanted it. He’d set his
sights on Charlie’s ass, and like so many targets before, Charlie could only
submit to the sniper’s desires.

Ian’s cock was at his ass, then he shoved it in with one
slick thrust. Charlie cried out at the
sudden burning pain. Ian pulled all the
way out and shoved in again. Charlie
moaned, his ass splitting open to Ian’s hard cock. Ian pulled out and drove in, over and over,
until Charlie’s moans turned to gasps of pleasure. Ian felt like warm, molded iron in his ass,
hitting Charlie’s prostate with each slamming thrust. Charlie’s sensitized nipples rubbed against
the sheet, adding more points of stimulation.

Charlie could only take a few moments of that before he felt
his orgasm rise. Ian switched to
shallower thrusts, remaining inside him, though each stroke retained its
force.

Charlie suddenly realized that this was too intense, too present,
too real.

“This isn’t a dream, is it,” Charlie panted.

“No,” Ian growled. “No dream.”

Forgive me, Colby…

Charlie arched his back and moaned and Ian powered him
through a shuddering orgasm.

Whimpering, Charlie felt the sheet start to chafe against
his now-sensitive cock. He slid in a
hot, sticky spot of his own cum. Charlie
waited for Ian’s orgasm, but Ian’s motion didn’t change, just kept up the
deliberate, relentless pounding.

Every other time that Charlie had been aware of, when the person
being fucked orgasmed, it stimulated the other person enough for his orgasm to
be soon thereafter. But Ian continued
his measured pace and the world and time melted away.

Charlie’s prostate orgasm followed quickly. He moaned and shuddered and moaned. The stimulation didn’t stop and Charlie’s
cock went straight from spent to starting to harden again. Ian stroked his prostate again and again, the
pleasure pulsing through Charlie in endless, burning waves. There was no relief, no place to rest from
the bliss, and it overloaded his mind, scorched his thoughts, obliterated his
numbers.

Just when Charlie thought there was no possible way more
sensation could be wrung from his body, Ian sank his teeth through the skin on
Charlie’s left shoulder.

Charlie shrieked and the pain/pleasure ratcheted up a whole
new level. He felt the hot drip of blood
down his shoulder and his cock exploded with another orgasm, his body thrashing
against the bed as his balls pumped themselves dry.

Still, Ian didn’t stop.
His hard cock was relentless, hitting Charlie’s prostate with the
single-minded attack of the hunter.
Charlie’s eyes rolled back into his head, and his legs flailed as another
prostate orgasm slammed through him. Ian
snarled with feral delight.

Charlie lost count of his orgasms, his body spasming
uncontrollably.
He wept and pleaded and cried but still Ian drove him
higher.
Charlie was heat and ice and ecstasy and agony.
There was no ‘Charlie’, only a wild animal howling its
passion.

Finally, Ian’s measured thrusts sped up. He smashed into the throbbing, aching world that
was Charlie’s body until he exploded in a fury of pounding. Charlie screamed as the onslaught forced him
through yet another back-arching orgasm.
Ian’s hot cum burned into Charlie’s ass, like the fire of approval.

Charlie sobbed with overwhelming emotion. He felt …

He felt.

Ian gently unclasped the handcuffs, bringing Charlie’s arms
down to his sides. Ian pulled Charlie
close, and Charlie sobbed into his shoulder while Ian stroked his hair.

“Charlie,” Ian said softly.

“Ian,” Charlie moaned from the bottom of his soul. “Ian.”

“Shh,” Ian murmured, pulling a blanket up over Charlie’s exhausted
body and his own sweaty one. “You were a
good student, Charlie. You learned your
lesson well.”

“Ian,” Charlie moaned again, sure there was something he
wanted to say, but unable to form any other words.

Ian settled Charlie’s head against his chest and tenderly
brushed the hair from his face. “Ask
him,” Ian whispered.

Ask who?

“Sleep, my sweet, brilliant Professor. Sleep now, and it’ll all be clear when you
wake up.”

Charlie wrapped his sore body around Ian’s warm one and obediently
slept.

Charlie woke much later, fully clothed and lying on the
couch in the solarium. His body ached,
his hands were twisted into a blanket above his head, his underwear was stiff
and sticky with multiple orgasms. His
face was crusted with the remains of tears.
He stared up at the ceiling in the dark.

He had learned his lesson well. And he wanted more.
- 1
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Sniper Dreams