Chuck: Casey/Chuck fan, prompt: "broken sunglasses"

*CRUNCH* Chuck swallowed hard. The young man slowly glanced towards the ceiling, closed his eyes, and prayed. After a few silent moments, he gingerly stood up from his temperamental NSA handler's couch and reached a trembling hand behind him. His hand closed around a pair of black sunglasses, a pair of broken, black sunglasses - snapped into two pieces - to be specific. Chuck moaned out an odd sort of whimper, then proceeded to dissolve into full blown panic mode.

"Oh Shit. Oh God. Oh God. Oh my God. I'm going to die. Casey is going to kill me. Oh my God. I'm going to die. I'm too...too young to die. Oh my God."

Whimpering, he frantically glanced around, searching for a miraculous solution. His panic deepened when he heard the one and only Colonel John Casey walking down the stairs. Practically out of his mind with terror, Chuck spun in circles, like a dog after his own tail, searching for a solution. As Casey neared the last step, Chuck lunged towards the three-seater and shoved the broken sunglasses underneath the center cushion. He spun back around as Casey rounded the corner.

"Bartowski? What are you moaning about now?" Casey's deep growl echoed over to Chuck. Even as Chuck swallowed and prayed for a quick, painless death, he could feel his pants tightening up at that oh-so-sexy growl.

"Um, well. You see, actually. Uh, it's nothing. Really. I mean it might have sounded like something. But it wasn't. I mean not that I think you wouldn't notice that. Because you're, like, an agent and you always notice if it's something. But it wasn't something. It was nothing. Really. Not that I'm saying you're wrong. Just that it's not anything. It's nothing. Really. I mean it. Um. So, what are your plans for...life. I mean, just in general. If you want to tell me, there's no obligation or anything. I mean we're friends right? Right! So, just I mean if you wanted to tell me stuff, you could. Because we're friends. Just...just...I...Ohmygodpleasedon'tkillme. I-I-I love you. I mean, I like you. As a friend. In a completely platonic, non-romantic way. I love you like a friend. Like. Morgan! Well, to be honest, not really like Morgan, but I mean-"

While Chuck rambled, Casey rolled his eyes towards the heavens and then proceeded to make himself comfortable on the three-seater couch. When Chuck's monologue showed no sign of letting up, Casey interrupted with a snarled, "Bartowski! Don't you ever shut up?"

"Wha-uh-me? No. I mean yes, I mean – uh."

Casey rolled his eyes, reached out a muscled arm, and yanked Chuck forward by his collar. With a yelp, Chuck fell forward into Casey's lap where he then proceeded to blush, stammer, and squirm. Casey simply smirked - the mischievous look on his face broadcasting his inner thoughts quite clearly – and roughly pressed his lips to Chuck's. The kiss left Chuck wide-eyed, gasping, and speechless. Lips curling up wickedly, Casey dipped Chuck backwards onto the couch and proceeded to cover Chuck's body with his own. Every inch of his own front pressing against Chuck's front, the older man used a knee to spread his charge's legs apart and settled in-between them. As Chuck stared up, wide-eyed, Casey licked his lips then gently sucked on Chuck's bottom lip before deepening the kiss. Chuck's half-strangled moan allowed Casey's tongue entrance into Chuck's mouth and the agent took full advantage. Smiling against Chuck's lips, Casey shifted his weight onto his left hand, in order to gain a bit of leverage. Just as Casey went to unbutton Chuck's dress shirt, there was a sudden...*CRACK*

Face absolutely blank, Casey looked down at where his hand was pushing into the couch cushion. He then glanced back over at Chuck. Calmly, he gave a simple command, "Get up. Now." Eyes wide and face pale, Chuck swallowed hard and shot up from the couch. Not daring to breathe, Chuck stood frozen as Casey reached a hand underneath the center cushion and pulled out the pieces of the now thoroughly shattered sunglasses. A minute passed, then two, both Chuck and Casey frozen in place, Chuck half-standing, a horrified, fearful expression on his face while Casey continued to stare at the black plastic in his hand. Quietly, Casey turned to the side table and set the sunglasses on it. He turned back to Chuck, completely emotionless, and ordered, "Strip."

Without a single word of protest, Chuck proceeded to rapidly unbutton his shirt, his fingers fumbling and catching as he struggled to get the shirt off.

"Slowly."

Eyes wide, Chuck slowly took off his clothes and waited for Casey's next command.

"On the couch. On your back. Spread your legs." Impassive, Casey ran a single hand leisurely up Chuck's inner thigh, just barely grazing his penis. Glancing at the needy expression on Chuck's face, Casey slowly gazed down his body then just as slowly stood up from the couch.

"Casey?" Terrified that Casey was going to leave, Chuck couldn't remain silent.

Jaw clenching, Casey barked, "Shut up." In an effort to keep Casey from seeing the slowly gathering tears, Chuck closed his eyes. "Open those pretty eyes of yours, kid. And keep them on me. Understand?" Chuck simply nodded, eyes wide open and staring directly at his favorite handler. With a cool smirk , Casey slowly unbuttoned his shirt, peeling it off once he was done and tossing it to the side. As Casey stripped, Chuck's eyes got wider and he began to pant, his cock practically flat against his stomach.

Three hours later, he was still panting as Casey ran a single finger down Chuck's chest and said, "You know, Walker's going to be pissed when she finds out you broke her lucky sunglasses."

Although completely exhausted and half-asleep, Chuck's eyes snapped open allowing him to stare at his lover in disbelief. "Sarah? Those were Sarah's? I thought they were yours! I thought you were going to kill me. I swear I saw my life flash before my eyes and you-you..."

Laughing, Casey rolled them so that Chuck was once again on the bottom. With a wicked grin, he replied, "Mmmm. You really want to talk about Walker right now?"

As Casey got to work, Chuck let out a mewl, then responded, "Nooo. No Sarah, just-just...mmmm." Unable to create a coherent thought, let alone a sentence, Chuck dissolved into moans and whimpers.