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kathierif_ficTitle: Just Scars
Author: Kathie
Fandom: CSI:NY
Pairing: Mac Taylor/Don Flack
Rating: FRAO
Disclaimer: Not mine, never will be and never were.
Spoilers: Charge of this Post.
Word Count: 1,461 words
Summary: Mac is trying to make Don feel less self-conscious about the scars he got in the explosion.
Author’s Notes: For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
kink_bingo, prompt: Body Part Fetish (misc). Takes place after Charge of this Post.
~*+*~
Weeks had passed since the explosion, and Don had finally come home, seemingly unfazed by his brush with near death. Mac had welcomed him back with open arms and gentle touches; touches that were intended to soothe him and not aggravate the still healing wounds in his chest and abdomen.
The weeks quickly turned into months, and the touches became firmer again. Still, Mac couldn’t coax Don to take off his shirt in his presence as long as he didn’t switch off the light first. He complied with the younger man’s wishes, feeling just lucky that he still had Don in his life., but when Don announced that he was finally through with rehab, and, during the following celebration sex, still didn’t take off his undershirt, Mac started to worry a little.
He hesitantly had tried to talk to his lover, but when Don brushed him off gently but firmly, he reconsidered and started to plot.
After all, he knew what his lover was going through. He had been in his shoes before, and now he wanted to show the younger man not only that the scars were now part of him and therefore not only acceptable and really just a sign of survival, but also how much fun and how sexy they could be.
With some careful planning and a grain of luck, he finally found the perfect opportunity to put his plans in motion.
Don was still grinning and teasing when he was dragged into the bedroom, one of Mac’s arms tight around his waist, Mac’s leg pressed in between his thighs and Mac’s mouth fastened to the sensitive spot at the base of his neck.
When Mac gave him a little nudge to make him fall back onto the mattress of their bed, the grin turned into a seductive smile; however, as soon as Mac grabbed the hem of his shirt and slowly started to lift it, the smile disappeared.
“No, Mac…”
“What are you so scared about?” Mac asked quietly and shifted, to look into Don’s face. “It’s just scars.”
“Easy for you to say,” Don said bitterly, and in one fluid motion, Mac released his shirt and pulled his own shirt up and off, revealing the pale scars crossing his own chest.
“I have them too,” he said and took Don’s hand in his. “See?”
He squeezed Don’s hand briefly before pressing it against his chest, letting him trace the scars that were so much a part of him. Don had seen them, had touched them, countless times before, and yet, when his fingertips came in contact with the puckered, white skin, Mac had to suck in a shaky breath to stop himself from shuddering as sensations flooded his body.
“Sorry,” Don muttered and snatched his hand away, but Mac just grabbed it again and put it back against his chest.
“Don’t stop,” he said, his voice rough. “Please.”
“If you say so,” Don replied doubtfully, but he moved his hand gently over Mac’s chest, barely grazing the skin. Every time he did, Mac had to fight against the instinct to give up every bit of control he still possessed and give in to the arousal.
He still had a plan to stick to. Now wasn’t the time to think of his own enjoyment.
“Scars,” he explained while pressing himself more firmly into Don’s touch, “Are very sensitive. When I got these first, you could make me come by just doing this.”
He shivered slightly while running one of his own hands over his chest, showing Don exactly what turned him on. He knew that he was revealing his biggest hotspot to his lover, but that was unimportant now. “When they fade, the sensuality fades, too,” he continued, “But it still feels very nice.”
His back arched sharply when Don absent-mindedly flicked his nail against Mac’s nipple, and he had to bite his tongue to get himself back under control.
“Let me show you,” he requested, holding his breath slightly until Don hesitantly nodded.
Grabbing the hem of his shirt once more, he slowly dragged it off inch by inch, revealing smooth pale skin sparsely covered by wiry black hair, and there, the red, angry looking scars.
Finally, the shirt was off, and Mac gently coaxed Don to lie back, to let him take a long look at his lover’s torso.
“I don’t know, Mac,” Don said quietly and squirmed a bit under Mac’s gaze.
Mac settled a hand on his hip, to keep him in place, and ran a single fingertip over the healed wound in his abdomen he’d seen last when he’d taken the crime scene photos, right after the surgery.
“Trust me,” he breathed and leaned up to kiss Don briefly. “Just relax and let me take care of you.”
Don looked like he wanted to protest, so Mac kissed him again, his tongue running along his lips and finally pushing deep into his mouth, muffling every sound and word Don might have thought about uttering.
“I have a confession to make,” he murmured when he pulled away.
“Yeah?” Don murmured back and swiped his tongue over his lips.
“Yeah,” Mac nodded. “I have this thing. For scars.”
He bent his head down to look at Don’s stomach again.
“What, like a fetish or something?” Don asked. He sounded amused, but there were still traces of discomfort in his voice, and Mac smoothed his thumb down his stomach, along the edge of the scar, and downwards, to his mostly soft cock.
“ You could say that,” Mac agreed. “I think you’re absolutely sexy.”
He kissed a trail down Don’s chest before focusing on the soft scar tissue. “They’re a part of your body now,” he continued, his voice muffled slightly as he rubbed his nose against the healthy skin right next to it. His tongue sneaked out to trace the scars slowly. “I love you.”
“Love you too,” Don said quietly and tangled a hand in Mac’s hair while slowly releasing the breath he’d been holding. “Tickles.”
“Can’t have that,” Mac smiled and pushed his tongue against the scars again. The skin under him twitched, and Mac could hear the startled gasp from his lover as he finally allowed himself to feel what Mac was doing to him without fearing anything and without trying to hold himself so tightly under control.
Mac’s hand ran down his stomach and closed firmly around Don’s dick, patiently stroking it into hardness and then keeping up his ministrations until Don’s hips impatiently moved underneath him and a stream of words, only half of them making sense, fell from the younger man’s lips.
He rubbed his nose against the sensitive scar tissue again, kissed and licked it, until Don’s fingers tightened in his hair and he was pulled up and into a deep, tongue-tangling kiss. Don’s fingers slipped over his shoulders, down his chest, until they found the scars, and he rubbed against them, at first carefully and slightly awkwardly, but then with growing confidence.
Mac moaned again and wrapped one of his hands around his own growing erection, stroking sharply while his other hand stayed on Don’s, and then they shifted and Don’s hand was wrapped around his, their fingers entangled, stroking both of them together, and Mac hissed at the feelings running through his body and freed one hand to press it against Don’s scars again.
He loved the feeling of touching the slightly raised marks, brushing his fingers against them and watching the emotions play over Don’s face – the first touch, a hint of fear, the second touch, an expression of trust and love, and the third touch, Don letting himself go and fall into the sensation, without twitching or tensing under Mac’s hands.
They stayed like this for a long time, stroking each other teasingly, their hands wrapped around their dicks, squeezing and teasing, until the need grew to strong, and their movements sped up and they both spiralled out of control and into the almost liquid state of mind of post-orgasmic bliss.
“So,” Don murmured, his head pillowed on Mac’s shoulder and his fingers still gently brushing over his chest.
“So,” Mac repeated, clueless as to where this was going.
“So,” Don said again and craned his neck, to look at Mac’s face. “You have a scar fetish.” There was only curiosity in his voice, as far as Mac could detect, curiosity and a bit of the old, carefree Don that would tease him later about this with his new-found knowledge.
Mac chuckled. “I have a Don fetish,” he corrected. “The scars only turn me on because they’re on you.”
It wasn’t exactly true, he thought, but it wasn’t a lie, either.
And it was close enough to be an exclamation of love.
~End.
Author: Kathie
Fandom: CSI:NY
Pairing: Mac Taylor/Don Flack
Rating: FRAO
Disclaimer: Not mine, never will be and never were.
Spoilers: Charge of this Post.
Word Count: 1,461 words
Summary: Mac is trying to make Don feel less self-conscious about the scars he got in the explosion.
Author’s Notes: For
kink_bingo, prompt: Body Part Fetish (misc). Takes place after Charge of this Post.~*+*~
Weeks had passed since the explosion, and Don had finally come home, seemingly unfazed by his brush with near death. Mac had welcomed him back with open arms and gentle touches; touches that were intended to soothe him and not aggravate the still healing wounds in his chest and abdomen.
The weeks quickly turned into months, and the touches became firmer again. Still, Mac couldn’t coax Don to take off his shirt in his presence as long as he didn’t switch off the light first. He complied with the younger man’s wishes, feeling just lucky that he still had Don in his life., but when Don announced that he was finally through with rehab, and, during the following celebration sex, still didn’t take off his undershirt, Mac started to worry a little.
He hesitantly had tried to talk to his lover, but when Don brushed him off gently but firmly, he reconsidered and started to plot.
After all, he knew what his lover was going through. He had been in his shoes before, and now he wanted to show the younger man not only that the scars were now part of him and therefore not only acceptable and really just a sign of survival, but also how much fun and how sexy they could be.
With some careful planning and a grain of luck, he finally found the perfect opportunity to put his plans in motion.
Don was still grinning and teasing when he was dragged into the bedroom, one of Mac’s arms tight around his waist, Mac’s leg pressed in between his thighs and Mac’s mouth fastened to the sensitive spot at the base of his neck.
When Mac gave him a little nudge to make him fall back onto the mattress of their bed, the grin turned into a seductive smile; however, as soon as Mac grabbed the hem of his shirt and slowly started to lift it, the smile disappeared.
“No, Mac…”
“What are you so scared about?” Mac asked quietly and shifted, to look into Don’s face. “It’s just scars.”
“Easy for you to say,” Don said bitterly, and in one fluid motion, Mac released his shirt and pulled his own shirt up and off, revealing the pale scars crossing his own chest.
“I have them too,” he said and took Don’s hand in his. “See?”
He squeezed Don’s hand briefly before pressing it against his chest, letting him trace the scars that were so much a part of him. Don had seen them, had touched them, countless times before, and yet, when his fingertips came in contact with the puckered, white skin, Mac had to suck in a shaky breath to stop himself from shuddering as sensations flooded his body.
“Sorry,” Don muttered and snatched his hand away, but Mac just grabbed it again and put it back against his chest.
“Don’t stop,” he said, his voice rough. “Please.”
“If you say so,” Don replied doubtfully, but he moved his hand gently over Mac’s chest, barely grazing the skin. Every time he did, Mac had to fight against the instinct to give up every bit of control he still possessed and give in to the arousal.
He still had a plan to stick to. Now wasn’t the time to think of his own enjoyment.
“Scars,” he explained while pressing himself more firmly into Don’s touch, “Are very sensitive. When I got these first, you could make me come by just doing this.”
He shivered slightly while running one of his own hands over his chest, showing Don exactly what turned him on. He knew that he was revealing his biggest hotspot to his lover, but that was unimportant now. “When they fade, the sensuality fades, too,” he continued, “But it still feels very nice.”
His back arched sharply when Don absent-mindedly flicked his nail against Mac’s nipple, and he had to bite his tongue to get himself back under control.
“Let me show you,” he requested, holding his breath slightly until Don hesitantly nodded.
Grabbing the hem of his shirt once more, he slowly dragged it off inch by inch, revealing smooth pale skin sparsely covered by wiry black hair, and there, the red, angry looking scars.
Finally, the shirt was off, and Mac gently coaxed Don to lie back, to let him take a long look at his lover’s torso.
“I don’t know, Mac,” Don said quietly and squirmed a bit under Mac’s gaze.
Mac settled a hand on his hip, to keep him in place, and ran a single fingertip over the healed wound in his abdomen he’d seen last when he’d taken the crime scene photos, right after the surgery.
“Trust me,” he breathed and leaned up to kiss Don briefly. “Just relax and let me take care of you.”
Don looked like he wanted to protest, so Mac kissed him again, his tongue running along his lips and finally pushing deep into his mouth, muffling every sound and word Don might have thought about uttering.
“I have a confession to make,” he murmured when he pulled away.
“Yeah?” Don murmured back and swiped his tongue over his lips.
“Yeah,” Mac nodded. “I have this thing. For scars.”
He bent his head down to look at Don’s stomach again.
“What, like a fetish or something?” Don asked. He sounded amused, but there were still traces of discomfort in his voice, and Mac smoothed his thumb down his stomach, along the edge of the scar, and downwards, to his mostly soft cock.
“ You could say that,” Mac agreed. “I think you’re absolutely sexy.”
He kissed a trail down Don’s chest before focusing on the soft scar tissue. “They’re a part of your body now,” he continued, his voice muffled slightly as he rubbed his nose against the healthy skin right next to it. His tongue sneaked out to trace the scars slowly. “I love you.”
“Love you too,” Don said quietly and tangled a hand in Mac’s hair while slowly releasing the breath he’d been holding. “Tickles.”
“Can’t have that,” Mac smiled and pushed his tongue against the scars again. The skin under him twitched, and Mac could hear the startled gasp from his lover as he finally allowed himself to feel what Mac was doing to him without fearing anything and without trying to hold himself so tightly under control.
Mac’s hand ran down his stomach and closed firmly around Don’s dick, patiently stroking it into hardness and then keeping up his ministrations until Don’s hips impatiently moved underneath him and a stream of words, only half of them making sense, fell from the younger man’s lips.
He rubbed his nose against the sensitive scar tissue again, kissed and licked it, until Don’s fingers tightened in his hair and he was pulled up and into a deep, tongue-tangling kiss. Don’s fingers slipped over his shoulders, down his chest, until they found the scars, and he rubbed against them, at first carefully and slightly awkwardly, but then with growing confidence.
Mac moaned again and wrapped one of his hands around his own growing erection, stroking sharply while his other hand stayed on Don’s, and then they shifted and Don’s hand was wrapped around his, their fingers entangled, stroking both of them together, and Mac hissed at the feelings running through his body and freed one hand to press it against Don’s scars again.
He loved the feeling of touching the slightly raised marks, brushing his fingers against them and watching the emotions play over Don’s face – the first touch, a hint of fear, the second touch, an expression of trust and love, and the third touch, Don letting himself go and fall into the sensation, without twitching or tensing under Mac’s hands.
They stayed like this for a long time, stroking each other teasingly, their hands wrapped around their dicks, squeezing and teasing, until the need grew to strong, and their movements sped up and they both spiralled out of control and into the almost liquid state of mind of post-orgasmic bliss.
“So,” Don murmured, his head pillowed on Mac’s shoulder and his fingers still gently brushing over his chest.
“So,” Mac repeated, clueless as to where this was going.
“So,” Don said again and craned his neck, to look at Mac’s face. “You have a scar fetish.” There was only curiosity in his voice, as far as Mac could detect, curiosity and a bit of the old, carefree Don that would tease him later about this with his new-found knowledge.
Mac chuckled. “I have a Don fetish,” he corrected. “The scars only turn me on because they’re on you.”
It wasn’t exactly true, he thought, but it wasn’t a lie, either.
And it was close enough to be an exclamation of love.
~End.