Standard Disclaimer: These characters and the basic continuing premise are the property of their creators, Josh Schwartz and Chris Fedak, and are produced by College Hill Pictures, Wonderland Sound and Vision and Warner Bros. Television, not me. The show airs on NBC, and I claim no rights to it. I am not receiving any compensation for this work, nor am I violating the writers' strike.
I personally know nothing about the sexual habits of Zachary Levi, Adam Baldwin, Matthew Bomer or Ryan McPartlin; as far as I know, they're all straight as an arrow. This work of fiction is nothing but a sort of fanfiction tribute, since I think Chuck, Awesome, Casey and Bryce are pretty hot.
Yeah, and in my head, the character of "Peter" looks like and would be played by a guest-starring Chris Evans; I don't know anything about his sexuality, either.
And, toward the end, there is a little fantasizing about M/F sex; don't worry. It's over quickly. __________
A couple of waiters brushed past the guests as they hurried around the consulate, and the crowds parted just enough to allow the red silk shirts a path back to the kitchen.
"Now remind me why we're here again?"
Charles Carmichael--real name Chuck Bartowski--dressed in a tuxedo and trying, with limited success, to look nonchalant at a dignitary's dinner, scanned the room over the top of his martini glass. John Casey, dressed similarly but filling out the tuxedo far better, was on his second martini and nearly done, but no worse for the wear as he scanned the room quite a bit more casually.
"NSA has reason to suspect that someone has been passing information from defense grid documents to certain powerful individuals inside mainland China," Casey said, trying to keep his voice low. "Stands to reason that the Chinese government would be interested, and anybody who's gained that kind of access who shouldn't is going to be in the Intersect data in that pretty little head of yours, right? So we're at the consul's dinner to see if you flash on anybody. Simple as that." One more drink, and even the olive disappeared into Casey's mouth. "Try not to look so nervous."
Chuck forced himself to take another sip as his eyes darted back and forth.
"Still no flashes?" Casey asked, handing his glass off to one of the waiters.
"No, no, nothing at all. Tell me again why Sarah couldn't come?"
"CIA got a hit off your buddy Bryce, Chuck, how many times do I have to tell you?"
"Sorry, I guess I just... don't want to think about it," Chuck pretended to smile. "It's just... I mean, the CIA must have other agents that could--"
Casey grimaced as one of the other suited men glanced up and over in his direction. He grabbed Chuck's arm and forced him off to one side. "Can I talk to you over here for a moment?"
Chuck stumbled along sideways as Casey dragged him into a nearby hallway, and then, suddenly, though a doorway into the dark. As a door slammed behind him, his eyes began to take in the shelves of a janitor's closet, and in the tiny, dusty space, Casey was coming toward him, an angry look in his eyes. One meaty hand planted itself on Chuck's left shoulder and pinned him against a shelf.
"How many times do I have to tell you that you can't go just dropping names like 'CIA' that casually? You were overheard, Chuck. I swear, if it weren't for the computer in your brain, I would have killed you a thousand times over by now."
Chuck tried to force a smile. "Well, I guess it's a good thing for me that Intersect V.2 isn't up and running yet, huh?" Casey pulled an arm back, about to strike him. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry, I'll be more careful!"
"That's more like it," Casey snarled, though he seemed distracted... the mention of Version Two seemed to get Casey thinking more about violence than about protecting Chuck lately, and Chuck needed all the protection he could get. Chuck pushed himself off the shelves and straightened out his shirt, edging gently around Casey's bulk and cracking the door.
The door wasn't open an inch before the breath caught in Chuck's throat; the man who had looked up at the mention of "CIA" was across the hallway, in the door to the kitchen. Still no flash, but he couldn't risk anything. He slammed the door, and turned around against it, panic in his eyes. "There's somebody out there," he breathed.
One of Casey's hands went to the gun concealed under the waistband of his pants. He held up the other. "Don't panic, Chuck. Let me check."
Casey stepped around Chuck this time and cracked the door, peering out through the opening. He gently closed the door again. "Okay, we can get out of this. There's a waitress coming."
"What? What good is that going to be?" As Chuck stepped back, Casey turned a bit, his hand on the front on his pants. Chuck's eyes went wide as he realized that Casey was handling his own cock through his pants, massaging it, getting it hard. "And what the hell are you doing?"
Casey took a step toward him and pulled him around to face him. "We can get out if we look like we have a reason to be in here, and it may not be dignified, but we have less than a minute, so take it from me, this is going to be the best option. Now get on your knees."
Chuck opened his mouth to protest, but as the first hint of sound escaped, footsteps on the other side of the door stopped him, and Casey's hand on his shoulder pinched down on his nerve and forced him to his knees. Horror freezing his face, Chuck glared up imploringly at Casey, who unzipped his trousers, reached into the fly of his boxer shorts, and pulled out a veiny, cut cock.
Still frozen in shock, his mouth slack hanging open, Chuck just stared at the thing; it was perhaps nine inches long, with a slight upward curve, about as thick as a can of Red Bull, and had a serious flare around the deep purple head. Beyond the fly of the trousers, Chuck could see the crisp white of Casey's boxers and a few long stray pubic hairs. Mere centimeters away, the musky scent was overpowering, and he just barely noticed the sound of the door opening.
There was no mistaking the sound of the waitresses' gasp, though, or the shaft of light that fell across Chuck's face and Casey's crotch. Chuck's eyes shifted to the hallway, and the shocked face of the pretty young Oriental woman who couldn't turn away.
"Oh, god," the woman stammered, "Oh, holy crap, I am, so, so sorry... I'll just-- I'll just give you a minute, shall I?" As she fought to regain her breath, she closed the door.
Only as the dark slid back over his face did Chuck notice that Casey's dickhead had slid up against his cheek, and he could feel the blood in the engorged flesh throb with each beat of the big NSA agent's pulse. Finally, he shut his mouth as he pulled back, staring up at Casey as he shakily got to his feet.
Casey smiled as he gave his penis a little shake in Chuck's direction. "Yeah, I know. Pretty nice, right?" He looked down and smiled as he gave the meat a squeeze, then smirked at Chuck as he tucked it back into his pants. "You keep eating your veggies, son, and maybe someday you'll have a big dick like this, too." Casey turned around and smoothed out his jacket and pants, making sure neither bulge--gun or crotch--were too noticeable, before he opened the door and looked around. "See? Nobody for miles." He threw the door the whole way open and stepped out.
Chuck finally got his feet under him again. He tried to say something, but only managed an incoherent "Bluuughh."
"Chuck."
No response.
"Chuck, buddy, you there?"
Morgan snapped his fingers right under Chuck's nose, bringing him back to the present. "Yeah, yeah, um... what's up, buddy?"
Ten a.m. was always a lull time at the Buy-More, even for Nerd Herd supervisors, and since Chuck was the only white-shirt in the place while the others were on an HD install, Morgan had decided to let all the other green-shirt associates deal with the two customers while he chatted up Chuck.
"Well, you know I had a date with Anna last night, and I think I may be getting to third base by the end of the week!" Morgan smiled his obsequious smile as he pantomimed swinging a baseball bat.
"Wow, that's, uh, that's great, Morgan."
Morgan raised an eyebrow. "You got something else on your mind?"
Chuck's mouth went dry and his eyes went wide, but as he stopped to think, he decided to go ahead with it. "Morgan, can I ask you a question? And I realize it's going to be weird and, just, completely awkward, but humor me, okay?"
Morgan pulled himself up onto a chair behind Chuck's Nerd Herd desk, and leaned back. "Shoot, man, ask me anything."
Chuck averted making direct eye contact, scratching behind his ear as he coughed out quietly, "Uh, how big--how big is your, uh, your penis?"
"Just under six inches," Morgan said, not even hesitating. "Perfectly average size. I mean, I looked it up... kinda wondering how I might stack up against the Chinese. White guys are the only ones who really vary sizes so much, you know. Well, white Americans. South Africans and East Europeans are generally bigger. Chinese guys, turns out, yeah, they're smaller, but not by much." Morgan slowed down his speech, probably slowly catching on to the fact that he was rambling. "I guess I was hoping having a Latino side of the family would help boost things a bit, but then I think the name 'Morgan' sapped the extra masculinity right back out. Thanks a lot, Dad."
Chuck was already regretting asking and trying to shut mental pictures out of his mind.
"Why do you ask?" Morgan asked, stretching as he got back up off the chair.
Without a word, Chuck turned and walked off.
Walking quickly through his front door, Chuck looked around the corner. "Ellie? You here?" When he got no response, he walked purposefully toward his own room as he loosened the knot on his thin black tie and pulled it off, throwing it aside as he got to his own room and untucked his shirt, unbuttoning as he went for the closet. Pushing aside the hanging clothes, he started poking through an old rack of burnt-disc jewel cases, shrugging off the shirt onto the floor. Picking one of the discs, he turned around, then set it on the dresser as he whipped off his belt and stepped out of his shoes, leaving him in his white wifebeater, loose slacks and black socks.
Just looking at the disc on his dresser, he felt himself swelling inside his boxers, and as he felt his organ plump and pull against the fabric, he watched the trousers slide away, revealing the blue cotton of the Gap boxers, and the heads of a few stupid-looking cartoon penguins.
Sitting in front of his computer, he opened the DVD-ROM drive and fumbled the disc into the tray before nudging it back into the closed position.
He hadn't even thought of the damn disc in years, but now he couldn't help but pull it back out and give it a look. He could feel his firm flesh throbbing against his boxers and wondered if it was beading precum yet--only the one time when Sarah had kissed him, just before they might have died, had he been even half this hard in months.
The media player opened on his computer, and he was looking at himself from his days at college, the shorter hair around his face giving away his lack of years, and his smile beaming out from his dorm room, staring into what had been his first webcam.
"Chuck? Is that you?"
The voice came not from the video but from the hallway; he quickly stopped the file and jumped up as he saw his sister's husband appear in the doorway. He tried to ignore the whirring of the disc in the drive as he choked up the man's nickname, no matter how asinine he though the name was.
"Captain Awesome... didn't know you were home."
His eyes scanned his brother-in-law... Awesome was in a red muscle shirt and black running shorts, absentmindedly scratching his stomach, his shirt riding up and showing off his abs.
"Well, I was out running a second ago," Awesome said, smiling in that stupid way he always did coming off an exercise high, and Chuck only then noticed the shine and the smell that betrayed some serious sweat on Awesome's part. "You ever think about going running with me, man?" His eyes traced over Chuck, who was suddenly feeling inadequate in his wifebeater. "You look like you've been getting in better shape lately, but everybody could always use a little extra cardio, huh? Get some better definition in those chicken wings?"
Chuck stood up, clumsily turning off his computer's monitor and moving around Awesome to head for the kitchen. Changing the subject and hoping Awesome would follow him away from the computer, Chuck opened the fridge. "You want a beer, Cap?"
"Sounds good," Awesome said, and, with his trademark lack of decorum, stripped off the muscle shirt before collapsing on the living room sofa. As Chuck walked around the sofa, he couldn't stop himself from letting his eyes wander up and down Awesome's pecs and abs. Awesome must have noticed; he chuckled. "Seriously, Chuck," he said before popping open the cap and taking his first swig, "you want abs like these, you can start working out with me. Not just running, I could take you to the gym, really get you started on a serious regimen."
"I'm sorry," Chuck stammered, collapsing on the couch next to Awesome. "I was just--just curious." He bit off the last word, shocked that he got it out. "I mean, have you ever wondered how you measured up? To other guys? I mean?"
Awesome smiled his broad, toothy smile as realization dawned. "Son of a bitch, Chuck, why didn't you say so?" He stood up and hitched his thumbs into the waistband of his shorts, pulling it out and letting them fall; Chuck's mouth went dry as Awesome stood in front of him just in form-hugging black boxerbriefs and running shoes, then Awesome gave him another shiteater grin. "The human body is nothing to be ashamed of, Chuck. I figure, why be ashamed of what God gave you?" With a clinical detachment, he dropped his boxerbriefs and grabbed his penis, giving it a little stroke and pumping some life into it. While not as fat as Casey's, it was still a good deal more plump that, say, the average hot dog, and as the blood poured into the organ, it began to fill out. It was still hanging straight, heavy in Awesome's hand, as Chuck opened his mouth, trying breathlessly to squeak out and ask how big it was.
"Twenty-two centimeters exactly," Awesome said proudly as he removed his hand and looked down his broad expanse of skin at the proud tube pointed at his feet. The head was rounder, darker, redder than on Casey's cock, Chuck noticed, and the circumcision scar was more pronounced. Awesome's thin, blond hair made for a smaller bush, and, unless Chuck was seeing things, his brother-in-law shaved his balls. "It's almost eight and three-quarter inches. Exactly three above average."
Chuck stammered, his mouth flapping open and shut. "That could be...?"
"Could be in porno?" Awesome gave another one of the stupid grins. "You know, you're not the first person to say that. A guy I met at the gym asked me if I'd ever thought of it about a year back." He gave his dick a pull, then set it swinging. "Didn't do it, though. I think he was into making gay porn, and, I mean, he did have a really great body, but your sister had dibs on the joystick by that point and getting it on with another stud in front of a camera was just one level of awkwardness beyond what I'd want to explain to her, you know?"
Chuck just nodded, and kept his eyes on the swinging cockhead between Awesome's legs.
Awesome looked Chuck up and down. "You're pretty well-proportioned, Chuck. Bet you're above average, huh? Got to be over seven inches? Seven and a half?"
Chuck blushed bright red, and finally managed to avert his eyes.
"Damn, Chuck, you actually never knew how you stacked up to other guys?"
His eyes darting between Awesome's cock and a point on the wall as far away from Awesome's face as possible, Chuck just stammered. "I mean, outside of the three pornos I used to have, the only dick I'd ever seen was... it was Bryce Larkin's, and he was bigger than me, and I guess I just assumed what that meant."
Awesome breathed in sharply. Any time Chuck brought up the name of Bryce Larkin, the man who had ruined his one college relationship and gotten him expelled, effectively ruining his life, he was in for a surly reflective mood, and Awesome had never had to deal with it by himself before.
Of course, Awesome knew only one sure-fire way to get the endorphins going, and in this case, it afforded Chuck the chance to look around and maybe feel better about himself. "Get some shorts on," he said, grabbing his boxerbriefs off the floor. "We're going to the gym."
"Okay, I think it's recording now." Years earlier, Chuck had smiled into the webcam perched on his desk. "This is so cool."
"You ready to get going on the main attraction?"
He looked away from the webcam across the room, at his classmate, his frat brother, his friend, Bryce Larkin. They were dressed in matching fraternity T-shirts-- Bryce already filled out his with a solid cut--and jeans, and the way they got along, it would be hard to imagine a time when they wouldn't be close. Bryce came over in front of the webcam and hugged Chuck from behind, hanging off his shoulders as he smiled into the camera.
"The, uh, the camera is really great, Bryce, but I'm still not sure about this..."
"Come on, Chuck," Bryce whined mockingly. "You had one crush in high school. One. If you want to move on and have at least one relationship--a real relationship--in college, you need to get over her. And the quickest way to get over somebody is to get laid."
Chuck tried to look up at him. "Still, you don't think this is weird?"
As Bryce moved in closer, Chuck could feel his hot breath and his stubble against his neck. "Chuck, I'm used to weird." An arm snaked down over Chuck's body, and as Bryce's fingers reached Chuck's lap, his whispered voice slipped smoothly into Chuck's ear. "And I think friends should help each other out, even if it means taking a bullet every now and then."
No matter how weird it was, another smile cracked Chuck's lips and a sigh escaped as Bryce's fingers, from stroking the lap up and down the length of Chuck's rapidly hardening penis, grabbed on and started squeezing. He looked up into Bryce's eyes, and no sooner had he done it than Bryce's lips were pressed against his, and, instinctively, he was sucking Bryce's tongue into his mouth.
Bryce pulled back, breaking the kiss, Chuck's bottom lip caught just between his teeth as they gently pulled apart. He spun the chair around and led Chuck up by the hand, pushing the chair out of the way of the camera and pulling him toward the bed.
"Seriously, Bryce, are you sure--?" Chuck was still stammering as he fell backward onto the covers, but Bryce laid a finger across his lips.
"Shhh," he said, straddling Chuck's legs, straightening up to peel off his shirt, and then leaning back down and tenderly sucking his friend's lips again. "I'm sure, he whispered directly into Chuck's mouth, before straightening up again. This time, his hands went to Chuck's fly, undoing his belt and button.
Chuck groaned, just feeling the work of Bryce's fingers on the other side of the straining denim. The thin cotton of his boxers rode up as his cock, harder now than it had ever been before, poked out the right leg where it was gathered in his crotch. And then another rub down it as Bryce slowly undid the zipper, and then his fingers were under the fabric, inside the boxers, and there was fresh, cold air as his jeans and his boxers were pulled down together, over the firm round curve of his ass, finally allowing his cock to spring out free.
On later viewings, Chuck would see the glint in Bryce's eye as the dick first escaped, and he smirked right at the camera as he grabbed the meat in both hands before backing down Chuck's legs and bending down to kiss the head.
A moan escaped from Chuck's throat as he felt the soft warmth of lips on his dick, and then the warmth was gone, and Bryce was looking up at him. Desperately, he nodded, hoping for more, and Bryce kissed it again, this time opening his lips and allowing the tip to slide into his mouth, sucking as he backed off again, and closed his lips in a tender kiss.
"Oh, god, Bryce," Chuck whispered, and Bryce's lips parted again, the whole of the head sliding in this time, his lips coming to rest on the underside of the flare. He was sucking again, and the nerves of Chuck's cockhead were screaming in pleasure; he could only let out a short, sharp sigh. As his moist mouth sucked at the cockhead, Bryce's tongue snaked forward and made contact with the piss slit, flicking up and down its length.
Gratified, Bryce watched as Chuck squirmed, the biggest smile on his face that Bryce had ever seen. He took his hands off Chuck's shaft and cupped his friend's ass cheeks, pulling the lap closer, and the shaft started to slide up between the lips further. Bryce backed off a little, his lips closing just around the tongue that still traced the slit up and down, until he took a deep breath and dove downward.
Chuck nearly screamed as Bryce's soft lips slid down the shaft, airtight pressure coursing down the sides of his dick as the cockhead pushed into the warm, wet recesses of his mouth and then, just meeting resistance, got Bryce to stop. He made a soft sound, a little moan, and the vibrations of the sound coursed through Chuck, from the tip of his dick to his backbone to every inch of his skin to the base of his brain, and he felt the boiling feeling in his balls he had only ever felt with his own hand before.
Bryce backed off, all the way off this time, stopping to lap up the precum that was pooling on his tongue. As he lifted his head from Chuck's cock, he brought a hand back around to grasp the shaft, and a line of spit and precum, from the pearly white bead still forming on the slit to his lips.
Planting a kiss on the underside of the cock, where the flare met the tender flesh, Bryce kissed down the side, one kiss after another, the dick rubbing against his face as he went down and finally sucked a ball into his mouth.
Unsure of what to do, Chuck's hands had grabbed onto the blankets under him and twisted then as Bryce opened even wider and the other ball disappeared into his jaw. Backing off again, Chuck took a sharp breath feeling the cold air on his balls again, and then the tip of Bryce's tongue poked at the tender skin under his balls. Chuck could feel the head of his cock rubbing in Bryce's hairline, smearing precum on his forehead, as his friend's tongue ran around the balls, tracing all the way to the top of the cock and then back down the crease of Chuck's thigh to the base of the balls again.
The hand still bracing Chuck's ass pulled his leg aside and Bryce's tongue, on the skin under his balls, started their slow strokes up and down, from the base of the balls to--oh, holy crap, Chuck couldn't even believe it, and he grimaced so hard that, even as much as he was smiling, there were tears in his eyes--from the base of he balls to the very edge of the asshole.
"Fuck, Bryce," Chuck panted, "I'm about to cum..."
A smile on his face and a sparkle in his eye, Bryce moved back up to the cock and dragged his tongue, first the tip, then the whole flat, up the side, until the head was back at his lips, kissing the beads of precum off.
"You liking this, Chuck?"
Chuck's face was frozen, his hands still tearing at the blankets.
"Tell me how much you want it," Bryce smirked.
"God, Bryce, I need you to suck my dick."
Bryce took the head in his mouth, sucking hard, then abruptly backed off again.
"You're sure?" he said, gazing up at Chuck.
"This is the greatest feeling I have ever known, Bryce. Keep sucking me, Bryce. I want to cum for you, buddy."
"That's what I wanted to hear," Bryce said, going back down, and Chuck's dick slid down into Bryce's mouth, and this time, as he hit resistance, the wall at the other end parted; Bryce swallowed Chuck's cockhead and Chuck slid deep into his friend's throat.
Bryce turned his head, screwing back and forth and his nose reached Chuck's pubes, and then he groaned, long and hard, the sound traveling up Chuck's cock, and the tight, wet feel, the warmth on every inch, was too much, and Chuck felt himself tense up.
"Oh, fuck--" he said, but it abruptly turned into a scream as the white-hot cum screamed out of his balls, up his shaft, and emptied into Bryce. When Bryce finally came off Chuck's still-long but softening shaft, cum was trailing from his lips.
He later told Chuck that it must have been eight shots down his throat, and he had swallowed nearly every drop.
Chuck stared out the car window as Awesome drove to the gym; he was still wearing the wifebeater and boxers, but he had added that grey fraternity T-shirt-- which he hadn't worn in years--and a pair of red running shorts he had had to borrow from Awesome.
"So what was it that got you thinking about other guys' bodies?" Awesome asked. "Obviously you don't go to the gym... somebody careless about zipping up in the bathroom?" When Chuck was quiet, Awesome chuckled to himself. "I can't imagine there'd be anything intimidating on those guys at the Buy-More--"
"It was Casey," Chuck blurted out. "Yeah, he didn't... he didn't get zipped up right away, and I just... I wasn't expecting it."
"John Casey... I bet you he'd let you go running with him, too. You don't like my workout, you could try it with him."
"I think things are awkward enough as it is," Chuck said absentmindedly, still staring out the window.
As the webcam kept filming, Chuck's still half-hard rod slapped down against the rest of his pale skin and the very bottom of his grey T-shirt. Bryce crawled back up the taller, thinner man's body and their lips met again, the hint of salty white cum flavoring the kiss, which Chuck hungrily devoured now.
"Bryce, that was amazing," he panted, and Bryce simply smiled, sliding back down, his hands trailing over Chuck's chest. The fingers stopped to tweak his sensitive nipples through the thin cotton of the T-shirt as his head continued back down between Chuck's legs.
"Oh!" Chuck screamed out as Bryce's tongue dipped under his balls again and this time went all the way onto his asshole, tracing the tip onto the tightly puckered rosebud, and then, gently, pushing its way inside. Chuck's legs spread farther apart, seemingly on their own, and though his hole wasn't relaxing, Bryce's fingers were doing the work pulling it apart, and as a fingertip slipped inside, the tongue was already well along the chute, snaking further into Chuck's warm insides. "Oh, shit, Bryce, that feels so good."
Then the warmth was gone, and Chuck looked up to see Bryce between his knees, kneeling, and undoing his belt. The button popped, and Chuck realized that Bryce wasn't wearing underwear, pubes peeking out of the top of the zipper. Knowing that, it was easy to see the outline of Bryce's penis through the jeans, a wet spot now beading on the end.
Bryce's jeans fell away, revealing his long cock, and Chuck breathed in his friend's body, naked at least from head to knees, showing the muscle tone he'd been developing, his smooth, nearly hairless body, his perfect, nickel-sized pink nipples, and, most mystifying to Chuck, a thin hood of skin riding up over the flare of his bright red cockhead. Bryce grabbed his dick and gave it a quick rub, and Chuck watched as the skin rode up over the head altogether, puckering in front and then peeling back as Bryce pulled the other way, revealing the red skin underneath.
At Chuck's stare, Bryce smiled. "You never seen an uncut cock before?"
Breathlessly, Chuck managed to get out, "I've never seen another guy's cock before."
"You ready to feel one?" Bryce asked, his fingers tracing up and down his smooth shaft.
"Fuck, Bryce, I still don't know..."
"That last bit was good, wasn't it?" Bryce asked, leaning in close, kissing Chuck again, his cock touching up against the skin between Chuck's thighs. His hands traced back up Chuck's torso, dragging the T-shirt up with it, and Bryce's tongue followed, up the center of Chuck's stomach, tracing over the tiny budding abs, and then over to one side under the pecs. Skipping up, the tongue flicked Chuck's nipple, the tiny bud already hard, and Bryce's teeth closed around it, giving it a gentle tug, and Chuck moaned. "You like what I'm doing now, right?" Bryce asked, as his tongue traced the backside of the chest muscle until his mouth was buried in Chuck's armpit, and he glanced up at the face of the writhing man under him. "And you trust me, right? Friends helping each other out?"
"It's just--you're bigger than I am, Bryce..."
"It's nothing you can't handle," Bryce whispered, licking Chuck's neck up to his earlobe, which he gently sucked between his lips and teeth. "Besides," he whispered, "I love you, buddy."
Chuck shot bolt upright, sitting up straight and forcing Bryce to his knees. "What was that?"
Bryce leaned down and kissed him again. "I said you can handle it, Chuck."
Chuck pushed him back, just a tiny bit, his fingers resting on Bryce's smooth chest. "No, do you... love me, Bryce?"
Bryce's hands finding their way into Chuck's hair, his fingers intertwining, pulling him closer, he breathed, "You know I do, buddy."
"Tell me you love me," Chuck whispered, his fingers now latched on to Bryce's nipple.
"I love you," Bryce said, his tongue slipping across Chuck's jawline. "You're my best friend, and I love you."
Chuck's hands slid over Bryce's strong shoulders to cup his face, staring right at him. "Tell me how much you love me."
Bryce pulled Chuck's head closer, and he kissed him, full on the lips, pressing as close as he possibly could, before finally whispering, right onto Chuck's face, "With all my heart and soul, Chuck, I love you."
And Chuck's hands were around Bryce's body, groping at the smooth expanse of his back pulling him closer, and between fevered kisses, he managed to groan out, "Then okay. I want it."
Finding it hard to tear his lips from Chuck's, Bryce breathed out, "What?"
"I want it, Bryce. I want to feel you inside me."
With one last deep, hard kiss, Bryce pulled back, and then grabbed Chuck's waist and flipped him, pulling his ass up to a doggy position. "You're sure?"
Chuck took a deep breath as he felt Bryce's throbbing cockhead line itself up with his asshole. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm sure. Oh, Bryce... fuck me."
"Now it's my turn," Bryce said, every syllable a hint of hot breath on the neck between Chuck's shoulderblades. "Tell me how much you need it. Tell me how you want my cock."
Bracing himself on his hands and knees, Chuck closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "I--I need it, Bryce. I need to feel your meaty, uncut dick deep inside me." He took another breath, and he could feel Bryce doing the same, just behind him. "I fuckin' love you, Bryce, and I want to feel it, down in every part of my body."
He could hear the sound of Bryce spitting; when he watched it on the video later, he realized that Bryce had spat on his cockhead and on Chuck's asshole, getting ready. Then his hand snaked around, bracing Chuck's hips, and as he guided his cock into the pucker of Chuck's ass, he grabbed Chuck's dick.
As Chuck started panting again, Bryce pushed in, the pucker just loose enough for the cockhead to slide in.
"You need to relax, Chuck. If you want me, you need to let yourself go."
Chuck couldn't get a word out, his face screwed up in intense concentration on the feeling in his asshole.
"Flex it, Chuck, Let it relax, like you're taking a shit."
Bryce felt the tight hole contract, pinching down on the head of his tool, and then it was more open, and he took his chance, driving further in.
Chuck screamed. Not a moan, not a groan, an honest scream. His ass felt like it had been ripped apart; there was warmth, and he wasn't sure if it was just Bryce's body heat or if he were bleeding. Nothing had ever stretched him that wide before, and the scream died away with a pained whimper.
"Do you want me to pull out?" asked Bryce's whispered voice in his ear, and Chuck vigorously shook his head no. "Are you sure? I don't want to hurt you. I'm not even all the way in."
"Put. It. All. In. Bryce," Chuck managed to groan, and Bryce could feel the pucker opening and tightening again, and, inch by inch, he slid further in, until the firm, smooth skin of Chuck's ass was against his hips. He grimaced in pleasure as he started to back off and then slammed his hips into the ass before him, and he knew he must have hit Chuck's prostate, because the full dangling piece of flesh in his hand was suddenly fully hard again, and Chuck was moaning.
Not screaming this time. Good moans, just like during the blowjob.
As Bryce started backing out, the wide empty space inside Chuck that had been his tight chute burned for the meat that had stretched it, and, as it was filled again, every nerve that had just screamed in pain at Chuck's brain started groaning with pleasure. His hips started rocking, meeting Bryce's on the way back, the cockhead striking the back of his prostate again.
Bryce's grip on his cock had also slackened, and now it rubbed easily back and forth, stroking off with the same rhythm as the cock in his ass.
The more Chuck got into it, the more energetic Bryce got; by the time Chuck had started rocking back, he saw on the video, Bryce had thrown his head back, panting and working up a serious sweat. The sweat dripped off his face, down his neck and chest, and, beading off his hard nipples, they dropped onto Chuck's ass.
"You like the feel of my cock in your ass?" Bryce panted.
"I love it," Chuck managed to say. "I need that cock in my ass, Bryce."
"Tell me how much you need it," Bryce said, his hips pistoning hard now.
"I love it, and I love you, and I want you to cum inside me," Chuck groaned, now having to lunge forward with every heavy thrust of Bryce's cock inside him, with every hard slamming between his cheeks, and both men's balls were swinging, Bryce's slapping against Chuck's ass.
Bracing himself on Chuck's shoulder, Bryce drove hard, and from the panting sounds below him, Chuck was nearly crying, though at a slight turn of the head, he could see him smiling from ear to ear. He flexed his fingers around Chuck's dick.
At the tickling on his cock, Chuck cried out as his balls tightened and he felt himself cumming a second time. The hot spooge crept up from his balls to the base of his cock, and then it raced out, over Bryce's fingers, and shot out, over his sheets.
As Chuck came, his ass clamped down around Bryce's cock, and the feeling was too much; with barely any warning, Bryce's cock was shooting, two shots in the depths of Chuck's ass, and then he was pulling out and jacking his rod, sending at least five more thick, ropey shots onto Chuck's back, lancing up as high as the shoulder blades, where they left spots on the grey cotton, and finally coming to pool in the top of the ass crack.
Bryce leaned down and scooped a load of his cum off Chuck's ass with his tongue, and listened to Chuck coming down from the high with an almost giggling sigh. Hugging him close, Bryce flipped him back over, and they lay down in the sheets, their naked legs twined together, Bryce's hand slipping up under Chuck's shirt to pinch a nipple.
Chuck looked over his shoulder at Bryce and smiled.
"You still love me?" Bryce asked, and Chuck just kissed him again, his tongue snaking between Bryce's lips.
Entering the locker room, Chuck couldn't help looking around. There were men in there in every degree of fitness and every state of undress; a large fat man had nearly finished getting dressed to leave, pulling his suit jacket on. A young man with a flat face, a heavy-muscled build and an eagle tattooed on his shoulder had his back to them as they came in, just pulling on a pair of briefs as he dropped his towel. Two middle-aged musclebound meatheads joked with each other on the way to the shower, both totally nude, and while both were totally soft, they were short enough that, hard, they couldn't be quite what Morgan said was average.
Awesome already had his shirt off, and he slapped Chuck on the back. "Strip down, Chuck, and we'll hit the sauna."
Reluctantly, Chuck pulled off the T-shirt and the wifebeater, stuffing it into the locker and taking the towel Awesome offered, though he wouldn't even move toward losing the shorts. Awesome, on the other hand, dropped his shorts immediately and wrapped his towel around his naked waist.
As they reached the door to the steam room, another man came out, wiping his forehead with his towel, wearing just a jockstrap.
The man was neither buff nor lanky, but every muscle he had was perfectly cut, with a rounded definition to every contour. A dusting of dark hair, all in a strip, ran from his nipples down his abs and into the jockstrap. The hair on his head was cut short, and his face was a permanent smirk. His nipples, deep red, stood out from their quarter-sized perches on his broad pecs, perfect eraser-heads poking from the chest hair. Every muscle stood in perfect view on the man's body. With the slight tan tint to his skin and the glimmer in his eyes, it was only the fact that he had stubble and not a full beard that kept him from being mistaken for an Olympian god.
And Chuck nearly ran into him.
"Chuck! You remember I mentioned a guy I met here, in the movie business? This is him, this is Pete," Awesome volunteered.
"Peter, actually," the man said, reaching out grabbing Chuck's hand, seeming to size up Chuck's body as he did so. Chuck felt suddenly inadequate again. "The name's Peter Woodlands."
"Chuck Bartowski," Awesome supplied when Chuck's mouth went dry.
"Good to meet you," Peter said, stepping aside. His locker was right next to the steam room; he opened it and threw in the towel.
Awesome stepped closer to Chuck. "Listen, you want me to talk to him? You got more than seven inches, I bet I could get you into a movie."
"God, no, I-- " Chuck hesitated. Peter had taken off the jockstrap.
A sudden ache seized Chuck' head, and he zoned out as, in front of his eyes, a giant schematic covered in government abbreviation flashed. Then came an image of foreign dossiers, written in Chinese; Roman letters betrayed names he suddenly recognized as spies within the Chinese and American governments. Possible methods of smuggling, including pirated media, flashed before his eyes, and, then, to his horror, came a brightly-lit picture of Peter, standing in front of a lithe and smooth Eastern European man on his knees.
In the image, Peter, his cock engorged, was receiving a blowjob, dressed from the waist up as an army general in his office, and undressed from the waist down. The other man seemed to be a lesser soldier, happily obeying his superior's orders. The younger man wore only his infantry beret, and his dick, looking like Awesome's but uncut, pointing at the ceiling. When the cockhead became briefly visible through the man's lips, it appeared to be huge; though the films might have exaggerated things, it was nearly a foot long and as thick as a beer can.
Then the scene magnified, and he could see, in the background, a young Chinese woman, stretched out on the general's desk, her panties to the side, fingering herself, and, behind her, on the wall, the same schematic he had seen earlier.
Then he snapped out of it, and caught himself staring at Peter's naked body, his heavy balls swinging, his thin but dark bush, and the cut cock, showing just a hint of the veins, still nearly as thick as a can and hanging around eight inches completely soft.
And Peter was smiling at him.
"Would you both excuse me just a minute?" Chuck asked, adopting his fake spy-smile. "I just remembered I have to make a phone call."
"The plans are getting out in what, now?" John Casey, filling out his Buy-More green polo shirt and khakis, held the cell phone close to his ear as he ducked into the sound-system testing room that usually afforded him some privacy.
"Adult films that are being pirated on the Chinese market," came Chuck's voice over the line. "I don't know who the leak in the DOD is, but he's passing the plans off as set dressing for a guy who calls himself Peter Woodlands. Makes bisexual porn."
"Damn it," Casey said, groaning as he leaned against the arm of the couch in the testing room.
"What, what? You know the guy?"
"Yeah, I did, back when he was still Mark Johnson. Access to the Pentagon until he got fired when his superiors saw his work impersonating a superior officer in a little film called 'Operation Enduring Boner.'"
"Okay, so what do I do now?"
"Where are you?"
"I'm at a gym, actually," Chuck said, and paused while Casey rolled his eyes and scoffed. "No, seriously. About a mile and half from home."
"All right, fine. I'll be there in five minutes. Keep him occupied."
"And how do you suggest I do that?"
Casey peeked out through the curtains to make sure no managers stood between him and the exits. "Well, I don't know, Chuck. Use your imagination."
Chuck unwedged himself from between the rows of lockers, nearly running into the guy with the eagle tattoo, who now had slacks and a wifebeater on, and was in the process of putting on a polo shirt, with a nametag proudly declaring his name was Matt and he worked at this particular fitness center.
Matt raised an eyebrow, watching Chuck climb out from behind the locker, and Chuck gave him a nervous smile.
"Guess I can forget about getting a membership, huh?" he said, trying to walk off casually.
Rounding the corner, he saw Awesome and Peter leaned against the wall in conversation. Awesome's towel had slipped, and both men were hanging over eight inches, though while Peter was still soft, Awesome had a dangling semi.
What this meant about his brother-in-law, Chuck decided he didn't want to know.
"Hey, Chuck, I was just talking you up to Peter here, thinking maybe there might be a place for you in his next film." Awesome winked, none-too-subtly.
Well, he had to keep him busy. What the hell?
"Um, yeah... you think there's any room for a slimmer, uh, kind of guy?"
Peter looked Chuck up and down again. "Well, you know, it all depends. You mind letting me get a closer look?"
Chuck shot a wild-eyed look at Awesome, who just shrugged.
Peter walked in the direction of the showers, pulling aside a curtain and motioning for Chuck to join him.
Awesome flashed him a thumbs-up and gave him one of those football-player spanks to get him moving.
Chuck stepped gingerly into the shower stall, and tried to flash a nervous smile as Peter closed the curtain around him.
"You ever done any film like this?"
"Just, uh, at the amateur level," Chuck stammered.
"Filmed yourself having sex?"
"It was college," he caught himself saying completely unexpectedly. It just slipped out. Peter laughed.
"So, how are you hung, Chuck?"
Chuck smiled nervously. "Well, I've always thought I was a bit underwhelming."
"Well, you know, not every guy can be hung like a stallion, Chuck, not even in the porn industry. And the Captain said you looked like at least a seven-incher, that's pretty damn decent."
"See, that's the thing..." Chuck was blushing.
"What?"
"I'd always compared myself to guy who was apparently really big, so I think I'm at least longer than I thought."
"Care to let me see?" Peter asked, kneeling in front of Chuck and grabbing the sides of his shorts.
Chuck took a deep breath, looked hard at the ceiling, and nodded the affirmative.
He felt the cold air on his nether regions, and then heard a sharp intake of breath from Peter. He looked down to see his cock hanging, mostly limp, right at Peter's eye level, the head kind of purple but not much darker than the rest of the skin, the thin ridge around the head, the one prominent vein, the small but dense mass of tangled, wiry pubic hairs, hanging over the edge of the shorts and boxers.
It wasn't thick. He still knew it wasn't nearly as thick as Casey's or Peter's, or even as thick as Awesome's. But as Peter ran a hand down its length, Chuck was prepared for the judgment.
"My god, you're huge," Peter said. "I mean, there are bigger guys, but, you, sir, are still a lucky son of a bitch, and you've got a place in one of my films any time you want it."
Was it Chuck's imagination, or was Peter's cock looking a little thicker? Just a little longer, just a little more... upright?
A shadow passed behind the curtain as Peter rose to his feet, and Chuck had just pulled his shorts back up over his dangling rod when the curtain pulled back, and Casey stood there, dressed in only a towel, a range of light hairs spread fully across his barrel of a chest. "Oh, sorry," he said, "I didn't know anyone was-- Mark? Mark Johnson, is that you?"
"John Casey!" Peter, real name Mark Johnson, glanced apologetically at Chuck and stepped out of the shower, still completely naked, and embraced the agent. If it made Casey uncomfortable he hid it well; over Johnson's shoulder, Casey cast Chuck a look that certainly made him uncomfortable, leering obviously over the fact that he'd been in a shower with a naked bisexual porn star.
Johnson stepped back, sized up Casey's clean-cut look, and punched him lightly on the shoulder. "What's up, man? You still hung like a wildebeest?"
"Actually," Casey said, "you think maybe I could talk to you over here, in private?"
Chuck glanced over in the direction Casey was headed, just barely making out the face of another NSA operative supposedly changing next to Casey's bag.
It was over.
He'd done good.
Now if only Casey would stop smirking about it.
After about ten minutes of cooling off and gently making out, Bryce broke off the kiss and smiled at Chuck. "Think you can move on to a real relationship now, Chuck?"
"I think that was a step in the right direction," Chuck had replied, looking deep into Bryce's eyes and nearly laughing.
"And I'm always here if things go wrong," Bryce said, stroking Chuck's hair. "You know I love you."
Chuck glanced over at his computer desk. "You think we can kill the feed now?"
Patting Chuck on the bicep as he levered upright, Bryce got up. With his eleven- inch uncut cock swinging soft between his legs, he crossed to the computer and turned off the webcam.
Chuck froze in shock as he entered his bedroom; the whir of the drive hadn't died away yet, and Sarah was still looking at the screen, her blonde hair tucked behind her ears, her mouth sagging open.
"Oh, god, Sarah, what you just saw--"
Sarah jumped up; she looked stunning in her little black dress, form-fitting, but with a high enough neckline and long enough to skirt to leave a bit to the imagination. But her imagination showed plain on her face, in what Chuck took to be slack- jawed shock.
"I mean, I can explain."
Sarah, blushing slightly herself at getting caught watching Chuck's video, shook her head.
"No, Chuck, this explains things. I mean, the way you hated Bryce, the way you wouldn't trust him, even after you learned that he got you expelled to keep you out of the program--it's perfectly clear now why that is, because he really and truly hurt you. He broke your heart."
"But, still, I mean..." Chuck paced his side of the room, his hands waving, not sure what to do with himself. "This can't be good for us."
"I don't know," she said, smiling as she stepped closer. "I thought it was kind of hot."
"Hot?" Chuck sputtered in disbelief. "Seeing me as Bryce's--as Bryce's bitchboy?"
"Seeing you as a man with a cock nearly as big as his," Sarah said, almost breathlessly, "who really cares about how and when he uses it." She had a faraway look in her eyes as she sighed. "Who knows that who you use it with is what matters." She was looking him straight in the eyes as she straightened up and kissed him.
"I know we've been on shaky ground since the truth serum, Chuck," she said, "but trust me. This doesn't make anything worse."
Still shaking from the kiss, Chuck once again felt himself firming up, straining against the boxers and the shorts.
Sarah reached the doorway and turned around. "I'll see you tomorrow?"
Chuck nodded, and gave a little wave.
Sarah smiled, and strode away.
As soon as the door clicked shut, Chuck ran to it, locked it in a hurry, and had his shorts around his ankles. Collapsing into his computer chair, he grabbed onto his cock with both hands and started stroking, pausing only, as per habit, to dip his finger in the pool of fast-dripping precum to take a taste.
He closed his eyes, and in his fantasy, Sarah was still standing in front of him, but this time, her hand was on his crotch, rubbing through the thin fabric like he was rubbing it now, and then she was on her knees, pulling it out. He was swinging his hips, slapping her across the face with his meat, leaving a smear of precum across her cheeks. She was slipping out of her dress, and as Chuck imagined Sarah's milky skin, down her shoulders, onto her firm, round breasts, his hands started roaming; while one kept stroking his cock, the other slipped up his shirt, pinching his nipple like Bryce had done so many years ago.
In the fantasy, Sarah had taken the cockhead in her mouth and was making little bobbing motions, letting the ridge ride in and out as she sucked... Chuck's fingers traced around and around the head. While he imagined Sarah's hand running down her body to her own dripping privates, his hand went down, cupping his balls, and then, as he had done since his night with Bryce, his fingers probed onward, onto the skin under his balls.
Making contact with the skin about halfway to his asshole, he could feel the pressure on his prostate and he shivered. Suddenly, fantasy-Sarah was gone and he was imagining his own hand on his cock, just like in reality, but the pressure between his legs belonged to somebody else. Fantasy-Chuck reached his hands around the pair of hips behind him, groping hard at the buns of steel his fingers met, and pulling them close, he could feel, even in his imagination, the soft hair nest spread across fantasy-Casey's chest, and the points of his nipples against fantasy-Chuck's back.
"Now it's my turn," fantasy-Casey said, every syllable a hint of hot breath on the neck between Chuck's shoulderblades. "Tell me how much you need it. Tell me how you want my cock."
And Chuck's real eyes popped open as his cock erupted, white-hot cum shooting first over his shoulder, then up on his chest, almost squarely on his nipple, and finally, dribbling out over the ten-and-a-half-inch shaft to pool in his pubes like magma from a volcano. Eight shots in all.
Shit. Fantasy-Casey had never shown up for a cumshot before.
"This can't be good," Chuck whispered to himself in the afterglow.