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“Remember,” Sarah said, “Tarasov is insanely jealous and protective. If you pay even the slightest attention to his wife or his daughter, he’ll have you slaughtered.”

Chuck remembered the pictures he’d seen in his flash and gulped. “Uh, that might be a little difficult.”

“We got you covered, Bartowski,” Casey said cheerfully. “I’m going in with you as your partner.”

Chuck could see Charles Carmichael as Casey’s partner, sort of a good secret agent/bad secret agent thing, but he didn’t see how Casey would help him keep his eyes off of the assets that both Genevieve and Vivian Tarasova possessed and (judging by the photos) enjoyed showing off.

Sarah read his confusion: “Your intimate partner, Chuck.”

“Oh. Oh! You know, you guys are lucky I’m secure in my masculinity,” he pointed out.

Casey sneered at him. “Shut up or we’ll see just how securely you’re attached to your masculinity.” He checked his clip, then slid it back into his gun, which added a layer of symbolism that Chuck didn’t feel was entirely appropriate.

Of course Casey was okay with this. Chuck had noticed long ago that Casey either actually loved his covers, the more extreme the better, or just was so committed to his job that his enthusiasm spilled over. At least it wouldn’t be much of a reach for Casey to play butch.

“Ready?” Sarah asked.

Chuck swallowed and nodded.


Later that night, in Volkov’s elegantly appointed guest room, Chuck made sure to get under the covers before Casey came out of the bathroom. He pulled the blankets up to his chin, closed his eyes, and then turned over a couple of times. Should he stay on his back? Or maybe turn to his side, facing the edge of the bed? Or would that look too weird and he should face towards Casey?

When Casey came out, dressed only in a pair of boxer-briefs that didn’t look better on the underwear models, Chuck made a sound—maybe it was an eep—and Casey shot him a look suggesting that Chuck had better man the heck up. He strode over to the lightswitch and then the world went black, not a hint of moonlight bleeding through the bulletproof curtains. Chuck strained his ears listening for Casey’s approach.

The mattress was so soft that Chuck actually rolled a little towards Casey when his weight bore it down. He heard Casey arrange himself, and then oh holy Jesus Casey’s fingers were in his mouth. Chuck almost bit down just out of shock, but managed to hold himself still. Then Casey’s mouth brushed his ear.

“Infrared camera,” Casey rumbled, just at the edge of his hearing. “Gotta put on a show.”

Then Casey rolled on top of him, breathing hot onto Chuck’s face. His hand was between them, and he began to roll his hips, slow and dirty. “Relax, baby,” he said, loud enough for any listener to hear. “Let me take care of you.”

“C—” Chuck began, and Casey put his mouth over Chuck’s, swallowing the rest of his name, mashing Chuck’s lips against his teeth. And the agony of it was, Chuck was incredibly turned on by that, along with the bulk of Casey. They were the same height but Casey must’ve outweighed him by fifty pounds, and for some reason Chuck’s dick thought that was the most amazing thing ever, which Chuck considered a nearly unconscionable betrayal. Okay, he thought Casey was gorgeous in an objective way, and okay, he’d kissed the guy, but—hunh, maybe this wasn’t entirely unexpected.

Casey stopped for a second when he felt the press of Chuck’s erection, then continued moving with the same rhythm, but lifted his hips slightly so that their groins were no longer rubbing up against each other. “Oh, yeah,” he said. “That’s it, that’s my boy.”

Chuck had thought he’d known that it was impossible to die from humiliation—there’d been enough of it in his life—but apparently he’d reached a new low, and he half prayed for his heart to stop. At least that might drive his stubborn dick down.

And then Casey did the most amazing thing. Simultaneously, he bit down on Chuck’s jaw, just hard enough to make Chuck yelp, and he stuck his hand down Chuck’s boxers and wrapped his hand around Chuck’s dick. Even without any lubricant, his grip was perfect, like this was just another physical skill he’d mastered.

After that it was all over. Chuck came in about thirty seconds. Maybe less. At that point, there wasn’t really any percentage in being embarrassed, so Chuck didn’t bother. Also, his brain was kind of sending TILT TILT TILT signals.

Casey groaned, sounding exactly like a guy getting his rocks off, and after a long moment rolled off of Chuck, leaving him with a big wet patch soaking his shirt and a very troubled mind.

Chuck panted for a couple of minutes before Casey leaned back in, nuzzling his ear. “I don’t do on-camera shows,” Casey whispered, ignoring the fact that Chuck was shuddering like Casey’d just put his hand back on Chuck’s dick. “But I’ll let you make it up to me later.”

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