Bitterly - Part one
A/N: Here's the next installation of the ‘Villainy’ series, although it’s only Part One for now. The first entry was (Villainy in C Major), followed by (Made in California), (Sweeter than Bliss), and finally (Runaway - Part one).
Also, this update is dedicated to skyesurfer12, who made me realize how badly I missed evil!Casey and who entertained me with one of the most delightful AU fics I’ve read in... well, forever. She does Chuck and Casey justice, and I highly suggestion that you read her fiction.
Title: Bitterly (Part one)
Pairing: Casey/Chuck; UST Chuck/Sarah
Rating: Nc-17
Spoilers: even though the story takes place in an alternate reality, it touches base with many of the episodes concerning Bryce and Fulcrum; predominantly the first season, though, save for the fact that Cole Barker makes an appearance.
Disclaimer: I don’t own “Chuck” *unhappy sigh*…
Wordcount: Part one has approximately 3,300 words
Warnings: AU-ish (Chuck is a CIA analyst, Sarah is still a CIA agent, and Casey is an evil mercenary/NSA agent); more explicit smex; crude language; violence
Summary: Escape is never quite as simple as it seems...
She takes a seat in her quaint little kitchen and tries to clear her mind of all thoughts. Meditate, maybe. It used to work when she was a trainee.
...After a moment she begins to cry, feels the tears welling up in the corner of her eyes and just lets it all out. Her chest constricts as she chokes out a sob. She begins to tremble.
The digital clock on her stove blinks coyly as the minute changes from 3:27 to 3:28am, the most miserable 60 seconds of her entire life. On a night like tonight, when she’s had too much to drink and too little company to share her misery with, Sarah can’t bring herself to pull herself out of a rut. No rest for the wicked, she supposes. After all, it’s only suiting...
She kills men in cold blood. It’s her job—it’s her goddamn duty—but this is certainly different. This was a comrade in arms; a decent guy.
The guilt is killing her.
It’s gnawing away at her insides, some kind of desperate parasite trying to bleed out the last of her remorse. This is her hell on earth; her just dessert. This is what happens when you gun down the people you’re supposed to protect.
Oh, how the mighty have fallen...
Part of her wonders if he’s dead now, a ghost devoted to haunting her until the bitter end of time. There’s a whisper of him in every thought, lingering at the back of her mind as she tries to go about her daily life, pretending, maybe, that she had never met him at all...
Who the hell is she fooling?
Sarah rubs her eyes, frantically wiping away the tears, trying fruitlessly to collect herself in the quiet solicitude of her apartment. She has a plane to catch in five hours. Haiti. She’ll be alone on this one.
She needs the space.
‘But you trust me, right?’
‘...Yeah, of course.’
...Always. He always trusted her, so young and naive, some goddamn analyst who was a little too brave for his own good... He should’ve never come with her to Sao Paulo. Not in her wildest dreams did she ever imagine Casey taking advantage of him like that. He would’ve been better off dead.
And now he’s trapped with the man, doing god-knows-what...
Sarah remembers when she first met Casey, the NSA agent with a carte blanche from the government to do whatever he wanted, whenever he pleased. And he did just that. So long as he came up with dazzling results, the agencies could honestly care less what methods he utilized to complete his missions. John Casey could do no wrong.
And when she ran into him in Kyrgyzstan after a mission that turned quickly sour, with Bryce at the mercy of extremists and her other partner dead, she buckled and asked for his assistance. She didn’t know that he and Bryce had a history. She also didn’t know Casey would threaten to kill them afterwards if he ever saw them again.
But Sarah hadn’t really cared about the particulars. She was a greenhorn herself, a fresh agent in the field, and returning home with at least one of her partners in tow had been all that mattered to her at the time.
And then she ran into him again in Brazil. Chuck had been like her, new to the game but eager to help...
Sarah fought back the next wave of tears and glanced at the clock: 3:29.
An eternity in hell.
God, she missed him.
But she knew the way out. She could find Chuck; set the record straight. Haiti could wait...
And Chuck...She had contacts...She could...
Sarah glanced at the clock.
Still 3:29.
No...Haiti couldn’t wait.
-1-Casey-1-
He wakes just a few minutes shy of the dawn and allots himself a modest morsel of time to simply lie there and think of Roan Montgomery (the legendary Roan Montgomery), the man who had shown him the ropes of Seduction 101 and taught him some of the most backhanded tricks in the book. The fellow had the god-given power to inveigle women with just a few choice words and the right look, and it never seemed to fail. Roan could sack a nun if he wanted her enough.
Casey wouldn’t be surprised if he already had.
All the same, Casey doesn’t envy him.
The curtains are diaphanous and they glow as the sun rises beyond the windowsill. The night’s last chill clings to the room, quiet and soothing, the sole moment of peace in a potentially hectic day, and he takes a minute to bask in the glory. Roan Montgomery might’ve been able to seduce the best of the best, but Casey doesn’t imagine the man has ever savoured a conquest quite as satisfying as this.
Casey leans over to kiss the kid awake before the heat does.
Chuck is still half asleep when he responds, just allows himself to be pulled closer and held. It’s almost easier than training a puppy. Almost. There’s a certain degree of manipulation required for Chuck’s cooperation, and sullying the kid’s picture-perfect image of Sarah Walker is just the beginning. Knowing Walker, business is far from finished between them. And knowing Chuck, the kid’s moral compass is bound to find north sooner or later.
But for now, Casey really doesn’t give a damn.
“What time is it?” Chuck mumbles when their lips part. Casey kisses him again and he can feel the analyst smile against his mouth.
“Don’t know,” he breathes.
“And I don’t suppose you care either.”
It’s Casey’s turn to grin now. Chuck doesn’t realize how close he is to the truth.
“I need to get up.”
Casey slips his hand around to Chuck’s lower back and pulls him closer. He can feel the kid hardening against his thigh. “What’s the rush?”
“Food would be nice. And a shower. I know you don’t mind lying in these sheets all day but I prefer a hygienic lifestyle.”
“But so soon?” Casey inquires. And then he pushes Chuck over onto his back, kisses trailing down his chest and abdomen. He inhales the musk. Feels the kid shudder as he brushes his nose against the hollow of his hip. “I don’t recall hearing you complain about the sheets last night.”
“They were clean when we started...” he murmurs in response.
Coherent sentences. Casey doesn’t care much for those.
He kisses him just below the navel before sinking lower...
One of Chuck’s hands winds itself in his hair and gently tugs him up. “I’m really tired, John.”
Casey pretends not to hear the plea and gives the head of his penis a lick. It sends a chill down Chuck’s spine. “How tired?”
“For an old guy, your stamina certainly frightens me.”
“Remind me to buy you amyl. But really...” Casey asks, letting his breath work on the kid’s sensitive skin, “tired enough to call it a day?”
“Have I ever been able to say no to you?” Chuck replies. Sarcastically.
Casey doesn’t miss the double entendre. “But I can make it worth your while.”
“Oh, and don’t I know it...” The gentle pressure on his scalp lets up and Chuck relaxes again, his free hand fisting the sheets as Casey takes him into his mouth.
Casey let’s his teeth scrape the skin. Not enough to hurt, but it sends another delightful shiver down the kid’s spine. Casey can’t deny that he likes this nervous tension—can’t deny that he’d like to tie the kid up someday either, just lay him down and fuck him into the New Year. He still can’t get Brazil out of his head. Doesn’t think he ever will. You don’t quite forget the first time you have a go around the bend with someone who’s actually worth the effort.
“Oh,” Chuck gasps when he presses his tongue hard against the underside, dragging it up, up, up, tantalizingly slow and languid. He takes the kid deeper into his throat, swallowing as he teases Chuck’s entrance open with a finger. The kid’s still sensitive but he responds positively to the first probing digit by manoeuvring a leg over Casey’s shoulder, stomach muscles taut as he tries to suppress a moan.
Casey works him with a second finger and slides his head up, sucking as he goes. It makes the kid squirm and allows him to fit in a third impatiently before he feels Chuck tensing and clenching in a way that betrays his oncoming climax.
Casey pulls back not a moment too soon.
“John,” he breathes incredulously. The kid’s too polite to push his head back down but Chuck’s fingers wind themselves anxiously in his hair anyway. “Don’t be cruel...”
It’s getting hotter in here. The curtains aren’t glowing so much as they look like they’re burning and Casey would like to get this started before the heat kills the mood.
He pulls his fingers back, watches the kid writhe, and untangles himself from Chuck’s legs so he can reach for the lube on the bedside table.
His cell phone chooses then to ring.
“...I was beginning to wonder if that actually worked,” Chuck murmurs as he watches it hum and glow beside Casey’s wrist. Only a few of his contacts have the number and they know not to use it unless they’re bleeding from every orifice.
Exasperated, he snatches it off the table and flips the goddamn thing open. Chuck actually looks pained at the cell phone’s ill treatment. “You’d better be dying.”
“Well, no...but I think this is about as equally important, Major.”
Casey rests his free hand on Chuck’s knee and strokes the inside of his thigh teasingly with his thumb. Chuck’s still a little hot and bothered but he’s acting rather mellow given how close he was to reaching an orgasm.
“Tell me in ten words or less, or I’m hanging up.”
His contact—Pavel from Kyiv—pauses as though he’s actually counting before mustering a reply. “Dmitri Alekseev is in Paris. He’s killed Mihailova and Titov.”
Casey grimaces.
Mihailova and Titov were on the government’s hit list but they never knew Casey worked for the NSA and had readily offered him their services on a number of occasions. He was well aware that he owed them something in return, even if it was only in their memory.
He supposes it helps that he hates Alekseev’s guts.
“I’m on it.”
“Where are you now?”
He glances at Chuck coyly. “Wouldn’t you like to know...”
“Just call me when you get to Paris, big guy. I can’t speak French worth a fuck.”
“Fair enough.”
Hanging up, he leans forward and gives the kid a chaste little kiss, enjoying the way it flusters Chuck after working him into such a frenzy. “We’ve got to go...”
“If you tell me you planned this, I am never sleeping with you again.”
Casey palms his erection and tries to ignore his own hardon. “Come on, you don’t really mean that...”
Chuck let’s his head drop back and squeezes his eyes shut as Casey begins to stroke him in way of apology. Then he relaxes into it little more. “...No. No, I don’t mean that...not at all...Oh, God...”
“ ‘John’ will do.”
“You egotistical bastard. I hate you...”
Casey kisses the corner of his lips; speeds up his hand as the kid begins to shake. “Really? Because I can stop...”
And he does.
Chuck’s hand quickly covers his own and he opens his eyes. Beautiful brown eyes. “Don’t stop.”
Casey kisses him again and commences with melting his brains. Two more pumps and a well placed twist has Chuck cursing in both English and German as he finds his release—and being the sweet kid that Mr. and Mrs. Bartowski wanted him to be, Chuck’s long fingers find Casey’s cock a moment later, stroking him dutifully in reciprocation.
“Later,” Casey says as he gently removes the hand. He’d much rather get his rocks off inside him than with a little pump-action.
“Where are we going?” Chuck asks hazily, looking just the least bit surprised by Casey’s outright refusal for repayment. It’s such a sexed up look, Casey can’t help but lean in for another kiss.
“Ever been to Paris?”
They’ve been jumping across the globe for a while now—nowhere big, of course, because the States have operatives crawling all over the place. Casey doesn’t want to risk running into Sarah or any of her contacts, despite being the peewee that she is. The woman can be an absolute bitch to shake when she wants to be.
“No,” Chuck mumbles honestly, starting to look a little excited.
“Then I guess this is your lucky day...”
A/N: There’s more, don’t worry. I just have to fix it up a bit more. I literally cut this entry in half before deciding to post it (—so feel free to tell me if I made any grammar mistakes. I hate those...)...