Title: Guns, Chocolate and Steel
Word Count: 3,944
Disclaimer: I neither own Chuck nor its marvelous characters, but I do have fun bringing them out to play.
Summary: What's hard and shiny, sweet and sticky? You've got to keep reading to find out.
Author's Note: This is a very belated happy birthday fic for my friend, Raevon0206, based on her prompts of "firing range" and "chocolate." It was a true pleasure getting to spend time with you in Vegas.
Ellie was armed and ready to bake. The ingredients, savory and sweet, were lined up on the kitchen counter. Butter, sugar, salt and flour cozied up to dark Belgian chocolate, cocoa powder, caramel sauce and the culinary piece de resistance, black Hawaiian sea salt. Satisfied that all of the edibles were accounted for, she grabbed the mixer and set the oven to preheat.
The tools of his trade were spread across the stainless steel table in Castle, and John Casey took a quick visual inventory. Lying next to the freshly oiled SIG was a boxful of .357 Full Metal Jackets, multiple magazines, earmuffs and a pair of amber-colored safety glasses. He grunted in approval and started loading the magazines.
As the oven heated, she brushed the insides of miniature ramekins with melted butter, dusting them with a mixture of cocoa powder and flour. She placed the small porcelain vessels on a cookie sheet and started melting the butter and chocolate together.
Ellie hummed a happy little tune as the chocolate warmed, pooling into a dark, glossy sheen threaded with the pale yellow tendrils of the melted butter. Baking was her bliss, and she loved the quiet, peaceful solitude of having the kitchen completely to herself. She loved having her family around, but this was her time.
Staring into the pot, she imagined dipping her fingers into the warm chocolate, not to taste, at least not at first, but to paint. John's bare, muscled back would make the perfect canvas. Ellie knew just how it would taste as she licked her artwork off of his skin. The heady combination of sweet and salty made her mouth water and a low, aching need began beating deep within her core.
The secret government facility buried deep beneath the Buy More was empty and stone cold quiet. Walker and Bartowski weren't making nauseating kissy faces at each other and the little gnat, Grimes, wasn't busy buzzing around, causing his inner calm to twitch. He made a mental note to add a military-grade fly swatter to his next supply order.
John was itching to break in Castle's brand spanking new indoor firing range, and he breathed deeply, barely managing to contain his excitement as he entered the large, sound-proofed room. "Hmmm, smells like a new shower curtain," he mused, inhaling the scent of the newly laid rubber berm as he assessed the length and breadth of the range from the shooting bay.
He loaded the SIG, slamming the magazine home with a short, powerful thrust from the heel of his hand. He donned the safety glasses, sent the paper human target sailing down the carrier line until it nearly kissed the berm. The familiar pebbled grip of the SIG felt like a part of his palm. "Let's break this mother in!" Casey got into shooting stance, sighted the target and fired.
As the chocolate cooled and began to set on the stovetop, the rhythmic fwap, fwap, fwap of the mixer filled the kitchen as the eggs, sugar and salt united. Ellie gently folded the still warm, satiny chocolate into the pale yellow mixture and added a small dusting of flower. She breathed deeply and the rich, velvety smell of deep, dark chocolate laced with buttery sugar filled her nostrils.
She partially filled the ramekins with the chocolate mixture, placing a generous spoonful of rich caramel sauce in the center, admiring the contrast of the tawny caramelized sugar nestled against the dark bed of chocolate. I can't wait to taste these with John, she thought as she sprinkled the shiny centers of each container with the light gray sea salt, the coarse grains sparkling under the overhead lights. After topping the concoctions with the remaining chocolate, she slid the tray into the oven and cracked open the fridge, bringing out the thick, whiskey peppercorn steaks that had been marinating for the past 24 hours.
More humming accompanied the easy sway of her hips as she carried the chilled plate of meat out to the courtyard. Time to fire up the grill.
Bullets tore into the target, traveling almost faster than thought, penetrating the rubber berm and embedding in the steel backstop at 1,400 feet per second.
The molten hot caramel bubbled inside the tiny chocolate cakes, cracks crisscrossing their tops, as the luscious smell of baked goods filled the kitchen.
He fired again and again, pumping lead into steel, barely feeling the slight kickback of the SIG as he concentrated on drilling the target.
As smoke curled from the barrel of the gun, the last magazine spent, Casey wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his forearm, and a huge grin spread across his face. "Ooh-rah!"
Testosterone coupled with adrenaline coursed through his veins. He. Wanted. More. There were only two options for satisfying his craving. It was time to fuck or fight. The choice for John was crystal clear as he slung the black backpack over his shoulder and left for Echo Park. Time to command and conquer.
The meat sizzled and flames leapt as Ellie flipped the steaks and lowered the lid on the grill. She hustled back into the condo and removed the cakes from the oven, putting them on the counter to cool.
She hadn't heard him yet as he walked into the condo carrying a plateful of perfectly cooked, medium rare meat. Her back was turned to him, and she was singing softly to herself as she gathered plates, glasses and silverware, giving him time to admire the way the crimson red sundress clung to her curves. Yeah, way better than fighting.
He set the plate down silently on the breakfast bar and kneeled briefly to unlace and remove his combat boots. He ghosted across the hardwood floor and was less than an inch from her when she stilled, his body heat his only tell.
Caught, he wrapped his arms around her waist, tugging her against him. She struggled slightly in his embrace. "John!" His name left her mouth as a startled gasp. "You surprised me!"
"Sorry, El." He lowered his head, dotting her neck with open-mouthed kisses. "I couldn't resist." He loved when she wore her hair back. It gave him much easier access to lick, bite and taste his way down her smooth, creamy white skin.
His scent enveloped her, an intoxicating combination of gun oil, tobacco and man. Her back bowed inward and her head fell back as she felt the stubble along his jaw line rasp across her skin and his teeth nip and suck at the flesh at the sensitive juncture of her neck and shoulder.
Ellie pressed back into him, the rounded softness of her behind meeting his rock hard erection, which was desperately trying to fight its way free of his cargos. She shifted, rubbing against him, wanting to feel all of him.
John stopped what he was doing and removed his teeth and tongue from her neck. He grabbed her hips, his fingers pressing into the warm, curvy flesh, and ground into her.
How badly did he want to bend her over the counter, kick her legs apart, flip up that flimsy red material, tear off her panties, unzip and pound into her? Very, very, badly! He could practically feel the hot, wet walls of her tight little tunnel clenching around his cock as he hammered away.
"John, the meat," she murmured, still pressed against him, and he almost chuckled, knowing that she was really referring to the meat on the grill.
He turned her in his arms, settling his hands on her hips, smiling when she was flipped around, facing him. "I brought the steaks in with me," he said, nodding toward the breakfast bar.
She rested her hands on his chest, loving the hard feel of his pecs through the warm material of his black t-shirt. God, the man did very, very dangerous things to the color black. "Thank you," she replied, chewing on her lower lip as she met his eyes with a small smile. "I didn't want them to burn."
He was about to experience some spontaneous combustion of his own if he didn't tear his eyes away from the sight of those sharp, white teeth sinking into her plump lower lip. Hey, he wanted to say. I should be the one eating away at that luscious mouth of yours."
Instead, he chose different words and answered "They're safe."
The steaks might be safe, but she certainly wasn't. Instead of a down and dirty 'wham, bam, thank you ma'am," he was going to go for the long, slow burn. Seared meat and those interesting looking little cakes sitting on the counter weren't the only thing on the menu tonight.
He still had her caged between his legs, pressed up against the counter, as he let one hand drop off her hip as he reached out and picked up one of the ramekins, inspecting it as he might a brand new weapon.
"It's a molten chocolate caramel cake," she explained. "I made them for dessert," she finished, unnecessarily, all coherent thought lost with him wrapped around her.
He tapped the bottom and sides of the ramekin against the counter and turned it over, allowing the cake to slide out. "You know how much I like eating dessert first," he said as he broke off a piece of the still warm pastry and brought it to his mouth, winking at her.
"Mmmm, delicious, but you taste even better, Ellie," he breathed against her lips, his hand firmly back in place as he kissed her, tonguing his way into her mouth.
As her tongue licked at his, she tasted chocolate, caramel, smoky sea salt and him. That long, slow ache that started earlier in the day continued to pulse and pound, growing stronger and steadier, pummeling and battering mercilessly at her core. She wanted. She needed. She craved.
He felt her shift against him as he continued to eat at her mouth, finding it impossible to get his glutinous fill. She moaned into his mouth, pressing even closer, wrapping her leg around his, her nails scraping lightly along his neck. They were meshed together so tight he was practically inside her, clothing the only barrier cock blocking him. There was a very easy and satisfying solution to that.
John shimmied his hands down her hips, over those long, lean thighs, stopping when he reached the hemline of her dress. He allowed his fingertips to tease the bare skin he found, hooking his hands behind her knees, pulling her gently away from the counter.
Her nails bit in, marking the skin at the top of his collar in response to him palming her ass and sliding her panties down. He hissed in response, sucking her tongue more deeply into his mouth.
Just as she felt the silky scrap of red lace hit her ankles, her dress was over her head, her arms automatically lifting as he eased it off her body.
His fingers momentarily lingered at the sparkling crystal clasp between her breasts before flicking it open with his thumb and forefinger. He smoothly divested her of the matching lacy bra and tugged her back into his embrace. His body heat poured over her, blanketing her bare skin, chasing away the goose bumps that rose where the cool air had swirled around her. As for the sexy, red, high-heeled sandals, well, she could keep those on.
She needed. She wanted. She craved. Ellie wrapped her arms back around him and tugged at his t-shirt, lifting it, all the while trying to hang on to a shred of sanity as he continued to kiss her senseless.
While he was deliberately taking it slow, he could no longer wait to be skin to skin with her, to feel her satin against his roughness. He aided her efforts, breaking the kiss long enough to peel the shirt from his torso and toss it aside.
As her breasts rubbed against him, her pebbled nipples poking him deliciously in the chest, he continued to nibble on her lush lower lip, drawing it into his mouth.
His cock was threatening to commit mutiny, painfully struggling against the confines of his cargos. He breathed a sigh of relief into her mouth as he felt his angel of mercy loosening his belt buckle, popping the snap at the top of his pants and unzipping his fly.
He sprang, thick and rigid, into her palm, and she encircled him, her fingers barely able to close around his girth. His dick twitched in response as she squeezed, maintaining pressure as she rode him up and down with her hand.
John Casey loved being in control. It was his creed, his motto, his mantra. But, he would gladly give it up and surrender to his beautiful Ellie as he felt himself being torn apart, piece by pleasurable piece, at her hands. One hand was harnessed around his cock, slowly driving him to the brink of madness, while the other was deftly tugging his pants down off his hips.
As gravity did the rest and his cargos hit the floor, he leaked into her palm. Suddenly, the Colonel was back in command. He wrapped a hand around her wrist, stalling the delicious friction against his dick. He broke the kiss and removed her fingers, giving them a soft squeeze as his penis jerked back toward her palm in protest. Stand down, big guy, not yet.
He kicked his cargos off and toed off his socks, standing there in boxers patterned with grenades and the words "Pull my pin." A little something he'd picked up at this year's WeapCon. Those, too, were soon shucked to the floor.
He kneeled, picking up one high-heeled foot after the other, easing her panties away, adding them to the mound of clothing already piled up on the floor. On the way back up, he kissed along the inside seam of those sky high legs of hers, licking and nipping at the delicate flesh of her inner thighs and ever so briefly grazing the cleft between her legs with his tongue.
Rising to his full height, towering over her, he swept her into his arms. She was too pleasure soaked to bat an eyelash when he asked her to grab the remainder of the mini cake from the counter. She did as he bade, scooping it up as John carried her to the dining room table and laid her down against the smooth, sturdy oak.
He climbed up behind her, removing the cake from her hand, setting it aside as he straddled her.
Closing her eyes, she felt his heat and weight pressing down on her. She didn't need to see, only feel. They kissed briefly, mouths open, tongues tangling. Before she could bemoan the loss of his mouth, she felt his tongue dipping into the slight hollow in the middle of her chin, followed by a nip of teeth.
She vibrated against his mouth, moaning as he trailed kisses down the column of her throat, laving at the hollow. He pressed a kiss to the center of her chest, between her beautiful breasts.
John took a ruby red nipple into his mouth, suckling, while he palmed her other breast, slowly circling the nipple with a calloused thumb. As he switched and suctioned the nipple of her other breast into his mouth, Ellie arched up, filling his mouth with the perfect amount of rounded flesh.
Reaching forward, he pressed his finger into the cake, dipping into the gooey center. A soft popping sound filled the otherwise silent room as he released the succulent globe from his mouth. Her breasts were now topped with dewy red raspberries. He could feast on her all day and never be full.
Her eyes were still closed and her lips were parted, her mouth slightly open. He watched her chest rise and fall as her breathing became shallow pants. Withdrawing his finger from the desert, he painted her body with the melted confection, slowly and deliberately drawing a line between her breasts, down to her navel, dipping his caramel-coated finger into the shallow depression.
As he began licking his way down the sugary trail, which was studded with dark chocolate cake crumbs, Ellie canted her hips, inserting one and then two fingers into her slippery wet core.
"Getting started without me, El?" he questioned softly, the rumble of his voice causing her to pump her fingers faster.
"Jonh!" she groaned. "I can't help it, I need—" He wrapped his hand around her slender wrist, covering her mouth with his, silencing her explanation. His tongue curled around hers in the wet heat of her mouth as he rocked her wrist back and forth, setting the pace of the fingers inside her. She cried out into his mouth, sucking his tongue deeper, her fingers continuing to piston in and out of her slickened sex.
Feeling her begin to tense beneath him, he pulled her fingers from her channel, bringing them to his mouth. He sucked her juices off, one digit at a time.
"My turn," he said, urging her to bend her legs and place her feet on the table a wide distance apart. His index fingers and thumbs steepled together forming a pyramid as he bracketed her mound with his hands, spreading her outer lips apart, revealing glistening pink petals, crowned by a blushing red rose bud.
He felt the trembling coming from her legs as he bent his head low. "Don't worry, baby," he soothed. "I'm going to kiss it all better." John licked at her engorged folds with the flat, roughened surface of his tongue, using long, slow, broad strokes. He pressed his open mouth to her center, dragging his lower lip along her weeping seam, a caress of liquid fire, as he curled the tip of his tongue around her clit.
She tunneled her hands into his hair, grabbing handfuls, her every nerve ending lighting up as he sucked, drawing the hot, wet flesh into his mouth. Her body wept for him, and she was breaking apart under his merciless torture, as evidenced by the moisture coating the inside of her thighs.
Ellie twisted beneath him, unable to endure much more as he impaled her on this tongue, thrusting in and out of her tight heat. He grasped her hips roughly in his palms, his fingers digging into the swell of flesh, stilling her struggles. He momentarily withdrew his tongue, pausing to flick the tip across her swollen clit. "Uh, uh, uh, Eleanor," he warned. "Not yet. We've still got a ways to go."
Ellie opened her eyes, looking at him through a haze of desire. Her passion-filled eyes plead with him, and he showed mercy. He plunged his tongue into her tight crevasse as he rolled her engorged clit between his fingers. Since she'd been teetering on the brink, her release came hot and fast. She exploded in his mouth, dripping sweet, hot nectar onto his tongue. He continued to greedily lick her out with long, deep strokes, starving for every last drop.
After he drank his fill, he placed his open palm gently against her, blanketing her mound, drawing her close, giving her gentle kisses as the aftershocks continued to roll through her body.
He held her as she continued to drown in ecstasy, finally coming up for air, her gasping breaths evening out as her respiration returned to normal.
"You doing okay, El?" he asked when she snuggled in deeper, burying her face in the crook of his neck.
"Yes. No. I don't know. God, John, that was just-" He chuckled. She was clearly at a loss for words.
He pulled her close, tunneling his fingers through her hair as he whispered in her ear. "I need to be inside you, Ellie."
She responded with a very Casey-like grunt of consent and sat up as he reached over, grabbing the thick protective table pad she had readied earlier on the breakfast bar in preparation for setting the table.
He unfolded the pad over the half of the table they weren't currently using. When he was finished, he came up behind her and again whispered in her ear, drawing the lobe into his mouth, scoring it with his teeth.
She ambulated on all fours, making her way to the other end of the table, her hands and knees comfortably cushioned by the pad. She felt him come up behind her, bracketing her legs with his. His hands stroked up and down her back, kneading her shoulders, rubbing her just right. She purred and arched, making him hard enough to hammer nails.
He bent over and kissed down her spine, taking care to make contact with each rounded vertebra, swirling his tongue in the divots adjacent to her tailbone. He sank his teeth into each side of her gloriously rounded ass, leaving bite marks behind.
Still reeling from her last orgasm, Ellie's mind fought for clarity, while her body dealt with the confusion of feeling simultaneously relaxed and aroused. She thrust her hips back as she felt him tracing the crevice of her bottom with the tip of his cock.
He continued to stroke her this way, fanning the fire that was already raging inside her. She was ready. She needed to feel him buried deep inside her, satisfying that ache that just wouldn't go away. Clasped the edge of the table with both hands, she tilted her bottom up, silently telegraphing her need.
He released himself as she offered herself to him, and he filled both hands with her firm, rounded flesh, spreading her apart. He caught the scent of her arousal, and his control finally snapped, unleashing the primitive part of him that he kept buried deep. The part of him that wanted to fight. The part of him that needed to fuck.
Without warning, he seized her hips and slammed into her. He tried to stroke in and out slowly at first, but he wasn't even capable of that. Instead, he jack hammered into her, pummeling her body with his.
Her need matched his with an urgency that consumed her. She pushed into him with each and every thrust, gripping the edge of the table so hard that the blood drained from her knuckles.
He was close. So close that he was about to lose it completely and explode. Sweat coated both of them, glistening on their skin as the last rays of the setting sun filtered through the kitchen window, gilding their bodies, making them glow.
His balls were boiling, ready to blow. He lowered himself over her, blanketing her with his body, biting down hard on her shoulder, making her scream in pleasure as he roared, his orgasm raging through him, setting off a chain reaction in her.
They lay tangled together on the table, greedily siphoning oxygen from the air. Both were wet from head to toe, their limbs slippery and warm against one another. They stayed like that for a long time, not moving, not speaking.
As the oncoming night drew down the moon, Ellie stirred in his arms. "Welcome home, John."