A/N: This starts off as canon from episode 2x13, then plays the scene out to show how I wish Monroe had reacted. Charloe and some rough lemons.

"You are kidding me. You have GOT to be kidding me!" Monroe could hardly believe his eyes as he approached the campfire. It was a nightmare come true. His son, Connor, half-naked, clearly just finished having sex. With Charlie. The one woman in the world he didn't want his son touching. Didn't want anyone touching.

Fuming, speechless with rage, he waited while they got themselves decent, then dragged his son away to berate him. Keeping tight control, his voice strained, he demanded of Connor, "We're literally surrounded by whores—and you choose HER?"

Connor smirked, the smug asshole. "She chose me," he drawled carelessly, clearly unaware of the true reason his father was upset. "I didn't really have much say in it."

"What happens if… Miles and Rachel find out," Monroe said, grasping for excuses to warn his son away. Connor's gaze started to wander back to Charlie, and Monroe cut in, "Hey! Think. You're an idiot." That got his attention. "And you're thinking with the wrong head." Stay away from her. Whatever it takes. Keep him away from her.

"Okay, LOOK," Connor said, pissed now. "You've been my dad for what, all of fifteen minutes? So just stop." Referring to their moving forward, leading the band of men out of New Vegas, Connor continued, "This is either to work with us as partners… or it's not going to work."

Just then, Charlie walked over to where they stood, arguing. Monroe could barely stand to look at her, afraid of how he might react. At Charlie's approach, Connor ducked away, heading toward the bright lights of town. Probably off to pout and drown his sorrows in booze like the child he was, Monroe thought scornfully.

Charlie addressed Monroe directly, and he couldn't ignore her any longer. Casually, expressionlessly, she asked, "We get those mercenaries?" He looked down at her face, her tousled hair. She was still adjusting her fucking clothes. Goddamnit.

Monroe turned toward Charlie, but his stare remained unfocused. He felt like his tongue was heavy as he replied, "Yeah, we got 'em. Just gotta pay for 'em."

Charlie kept walking, curling her mouth up into what looked like a smile, as she nodded and made an affirmative sound. She kept going, in the opposite direction from where Connor had gone, further out into the wilderness. Monroe felt himself staring after her dully, miserably.

So that was it. He'd been fighting his feelings for Charlie for weeks, months. He'd been distracted by his quest to find Connor in Mexico, by fighting the Patriots, but all the while Charlie haunted his thoughts. She was not only the most beautiful woman he knew, but also the most intriguing, the most spirited, the most intelligent. He'd been drawn to her since the day they met.

Because of their age difference and because she was the niece of his best friend Miles, Monroe had forced himself not to act on his feelings. He'd held out for as long as he could. Only recently had he begun to realize that nothing else mattered to him but having her. Not his friendships. Not morality. Nothing. He couldn't ignore it any longer. But now, Monroe thought, he'd waited too long. And she'd fucked his son instead.

Misery quickly morphed into fury as he replayed walking up on the two lovers, on an infinite loop in his mind. Part of why he couldn't ignore his feelings for Charlie any longer was that he had thought she returned them. The tension between them, he thought, was so intense he could sometimes see it shimmering in the air. The witty banter they shared, the laughter, the conversation—she didn't have that with anyone else. Sometimes, he knew she was undressing him with her eyes. Enough women had done it before that he knew what it looked like.

So why would she do this. How could she do this. It didn't make sense. As the shock wore off and rationality set in, Monroe knew he hadn't been wrong about what was between him and Charlie. He had to find her. At least ask the question, know once and for all: did she want him?

Decision made, he stalked after her, out into the wilderness. She hadn't been moving fast. He heard, then saw Charlie up ahead, stopped in a clearing. As he got close, she whipped around, meeting his eyes.

Charlie's face was a mask of misery and shame. Gone was the detached woman of just a few minutes before. She looked like she was drowning, pleading with him to pull her to safety. Monroe's resolve strengthened.

"If you want him, and not me," he choked out, using every ounce of willpower to keep tight control over his emotions, "tell me. And I'll walk away."

Charlie stared back at him, and her head shook slightly: no. He wasn't even sure she'd done it consciously.

"If you do want me…" he stepped closer, so they were almost touching, saying intensely, "I am going to erase every memory of that boy from your mind." Monroe grabbed her roughly, pulling her against him. He began devouring the side of her neck, kissing and biting his way down to her shoulder.

"Until only… I… remain…" With that, he captured her mouth in a forceful kiss that demanded, took, controlled. She responded with abandon, their tongues tangling, her arms wrapping desperately around him. Charlie let out a soft moan against his lips and he broke away from her.

"Did he kiss you here?" Monroe asked, again working his way down her neck. Getting no response, he paused and lifted his head. He shook her, teetering on the edge of violence. "Tell me!" His voice made it clear he was to be obeyed.

"Yes," Charlie said breathlessly. "He did."

Monroe ran his hands over her body, fondling her breasts forcefully, filling his hands with them. "Did he touch you here?" he asked. He could feel his dick getting hard as he manhandled her.

"Ugh, yes…" Charlie's voice was hazy.

Quickly, Monroe pulled off her shirt and bra, so she stood before him, half-naked in the moonlight. "Did he use his hands?" He ran his rough palms over her bare breasts, savoring the soft, hot feel of her nipples. "His tongue?" He dropped his head down, sucking one nipple hard into his mouth, using his teeth, bruising her.

"Yes… yes…" Charlie breathed, holding Monroe's hair as he laved his tongue across her taut nipples, abrading the sensitive skin there. His hands were digging into her ribs, holding her in place before him as he worked her over.

Releasing her, he moved his hands to her waist, unfastening her jeans, pushing a hand inside, rubbing her hot center. Her slick wetness under his fingertips, the confirmation of her lust for him, turned him on even more, and he felt like his cock was about to explode.

"Did he touch you here? Like this?" he asked, his voice husky with desire. He pushed his fingers deep inside her, outwardly maintaining control, his face stoic as his insides threatened to unspool. Inside her, he found her g-spot, stroking her in a punishing rhythm.

Charlie's legs quaked. "Yes, there," she stammered. "No, not like that. Not like… uh, God. Oh, Godddd…" Monroe watched her as he relentlessly fingered her, riveted as she came on his hand, her pussy clenching around his strong fingers. Jesus Christ.

He pulled his fingers out of her, rubbing her orgasm-sensitive clit lightly. "What about here? Did he taste you here?"

Charlie shook her head wordlessly, and Monroe snorted in disbelief. Foolish boy. Soon, very soon, he would bury his face in Charlie's pussy, coating his face in her juices, licking her sweetness. But for tonight, he was focused only on removing all traces of his son from her body, from her memory.

Monroe stepped away from Charlie, and she looked up at him in fear and anticipation. Holding her gaze, he threw off his own shirt, then opened his pants and pulled out his large, hard cock. Her eyes dropped to it and widened. She swallowed hard.

"Did you suck his prick?" Monroe demanded, almost angrily. Charlie's eyes snapped back up to his, but she didn't answer. Monroe stroked himself slowly, pointing his length toward her, igniting all his nerve endings. Darkly, he repeated himself, already knowing the answer.

"Did you. Suck. Him." Charlie nodded.

"Get on your knees," he commanded flatly, and Charlie dropped down as if someone had kicked out the back of her legs from under her. She stared up at him, her mouth partly open, and he stepped toward her still holding his hard cock. Monroe stopped with the head of his penis just touching Charlie's jutting lower lip.

Without further prompting, Charlie opened her mouth wide to take him in, wrapping her own hand around his hardness. She licked him wantonly, sticking her tongue far out, then closed her lips around him to form a tight sheath as she plunged her mouth down on him.

For the first time in their encounter, Monroe let slip a little bit of his tight control, flexing his hips into her, moaning in pleasure. Charlie slammed him into the back of her throat, once, twice, gagging hard on his length. Monroe placed his hands behind her head, thrusting harder now, fucking her mouth, forcing his pre-cum down her throat. When he felt his climax building, he let out a mighty groan and pulled out of Charlie's mouth with a pop. Breathing raggedly, he looked down at her. He was barely able to get his next words out.

"How did he fuck you?" Monroe was tortured by the thought of his son—a taller, darker, younger version of himself—inside Charlie. He had to erase him. Had to be her last. Her only, from then on.

"He was on top," Charlie responded, her voice throaty with arousal. "He mounted me, and he fucked me. From on top."

At this, Monroe dropped to the ground and pushed Charlie roughly onto her back, quickly shoving his shirt behind her head. He yanked her jeans down and then off, throwing them aside, leaving her naked and ready for him. His own pants he left on. His cock was out and painfully hard at the sight of Charlie with her legs spread wide below him. Her pussy open to him. Finally.

Monroe positioned himself at her entrance then, bracing his arms on either side of her, he thrust his cock up into her in one long stroke. She cried out, and he pulled away then slammed back inside, drawing another cry from her.

He worked faster now, pushing his cock into her to the hilt, as deep as he could go, bottoming out in her, the head of his dick stroking her tender flesh inside.

"Like this? Was this how he fucked you?" Monroe growled, thrusting furiously.

"No," Charlie said, gasping for air under his assault on her pussy. "No, not like this."

"Tell me," Monroe demanded. She hesitated. He raised one hand and slapped her ass, hard. "Tell me!"

"You… you're bigger," she breathed. "Harder…. Rougher." She flexed her hips into his, matching his rhythm, somehow taking him even deeper. "Better. You're better."

Monroe was elated. "God. Damn. Right," he uttered, feeling his orgasm stirring inside him. Below him, Charlie closed her eyes, working her hips against him desperately. Suddenly, he felt warmth and more wetness coat his dick and Charlie cried out, "Bass. Oh God, Bass, oh God…" as she came a second time.

Her saying his name as she came nearly put him over the edge, but he harnessed himself for a few beats more. Pulling her into his arms, continuing to pound into her, Monroe rasped a final question into her ear.

"Did he come inside you, Charlotte?" He needed the answer to be no.

It was. "No," she said quickly. "I don't… no one does."

Monroe smiled grimly. "Wrong," he said with significance, and she gasped. He increased his pace as he pumped into her. "I do. Only I do."

Charlie whimpered slightly, then said softly, "Yes… uhh, yes," and opened her thighs as wide as she could. Her opening to his seed, coaxing him into her womb, finished him, and he exploded with his orgasm. Hot, ropy cum surged out of him and deep inside her, marking her as his, searing himself on her insides. She screamed softly with the ecstasy of it, and he collapsed to the ground beside her, satisfied.

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Eventually, they peeled themselves off the ground and made their way back to the campfire, where they slept twined in each other's arms.

The next morning, Monroe was awakened by a shadow across his face and a sardonic voice saying, "Well, well. Looks like the old man's not above taking my sloppy seconds."

Monroe was on his feet in an instant, careful not to wake Charlie, yanking Connor away from her by the arm. When they were clear of the campsite, Monroe said seriously, "She's not 'your' anything. She's mine. What happened between you two was a mistake."

"Yeah, well, maybe we'll ask her about it when she gets up," Connor said with a smirk. "If she ever does. She must be tired. All fucked out."

Monroe didn't hesitate—his fist flew through the air, landing a brutal punch on Connor's jaw. "Don't ever speak of her like that again. Or I will kill you," he warned, seething.

Connor rubbed his chin, flexed his jaw experimentally, then said, "Yeah, right. Kill me, your only son?"

"I've killed better men than you, for less," Monroe said with disgust.

Connor paused for a few seconds, and then his face dawned with realization and he began to laugh, rolling his eyes up to the sky.

"What the fuck could be funny?"

Connor had a huge, shit-eating grin on his face as he explained, "Last night, while Charlie and I were…" he gestured, then continued, "She kept calling me 'Monroe.' I tried telling her that if anything, I'm a Bennett, but she wouldn't listen. Eventually I just went with it." Connor shook his head. "Bitch was thinking of you the whole time."

"I told you not to speak of her like that," Monroe warned, but his heart wasn't in it. He was too stunned by what he'd just learned—Charlie had been calling his name, even when she was with Connor? Fucking Connor, he reminded himself. For the hundredth time since he'd found them, Monroe cursed himself for waiting too long. But it didn't matter now.

"Whatever, old man," Connor said. "Seems like you won this race before I even entered."

Monroe just glared at him, and Connor added, "I mean I get it! She's yours, hands off. Understood. Now can we please get the hell out of here? There are uh, probably a few women back in town looking for me, and I'd really rather they didn't succeed." He looked sheepish and turned, heading back toward their campsite.

Monroe followed quickly behind, not wanting his son to be near Charlie unsupervised for even a second. He of all people knew that when a Monroe wanted something, someone telling him "no" made it all the more tempting.

A/N: I wrote this as a one-shot, but I also want to explore Charlie's reaction to this whole thing, so there may be more coming. Hope you enjoyed it!