Fic: Falling (part 2)
Title:Falling (part 2)
Genre:Slash, AU (slight)
Fandom:Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles
Characters:Charley/Derek
Summary:Alone time is so hard to come by when you're being hunted...
Author's Notes:This is the continuation of Falling, a piece of fanfiction about Charley Dixon and Derek Reese for the nascent slashdom of the Sarah Connor Chronicles at scc_slash. I do not own any of the characters here, just the twisted mind that puts them together in the following story. Also, I'm trying something new... I've picked a song or two that struck me as good background music for the scenes. If you've got iTunes or something open (and have these songs), throw them in a playlist or party shuffle and play them in the background as you read, and let me know what you think =)
Soundtrack: Lifehouse - Hanging By a Moment
Derek had been thinking about nothing but survival and the mission for so long, he hardly remembered what it felt like to obsess over anything else. He couldn't even remember the last time he cared for someone other than his brother... but more and more his mind would wander back to the rough, handsome man who had saved his life.
It had been nearly a week since they met... a week during which Derek could barely restrain himself whenever Charley showed up to check on his wounds and change his bandage. A week during which he wished with all of his pent-up energy that Sarah and her son would just get the fuck out of the house. A week during which he was forced to cherish the brief brushes of skin, the knowing smiles, and the deep voice of Charley Dixon. A week in which he began to wonder if the metal guardian John had sent himself was capable of recognizing the lust and want in his eyes... it always seemed to be around when he and Charley were together.
It wasn't until Sarah convinced the robot to accompany her back to the resistance fighters' safe house to pick up the second stash of supplies about which Reese had informed her that he got any privacy.
---
Charley was on his way back from the hospital, and drove by the Connor stronghold (or so he thought of it) to make sure there were no lasting complications to the bullet wound in one of its occupants. He knew this charade wasn't going to last... it was healing nicely, and it would only require a few more clean bandages. All of which could be administered by Sarah or John just as easily as him.
Or even the Very Scary Robot, he thought to himself. He still couldn't decide--or, perhaps, admit to himself--if he kept coming back for Sarah, or if it was for Reese. He was content with allowing Sarah to believe that it was for her, as it gave him more time to figure it out for himself.
The house seemed quieter than usual as he pulled up, out of sight from the main road. He thought the house was deserted when he entered, but soon found the recovering fighter sitting in a chair in the back room facing the window, lost in thought.
"Hey," he ventured.
The man in front of him rose slowly and turned, sliding the chair closer to the table and re-seating himself. "A new bandage already?" he inquired.
"Yeah. It's probably the last one you'll need." Charley sat himself down in the chair in front of Reese, propped the aid kit open on the table, and turned to face him.
"At this point, it's mostly to keep your shirt--" he reached forward, and began to pull the slightly damp white undershirt off of the muscular chest, "--from making it any more difficult to heal."
Reese put his arms over his head and allowed his shirt to be removed. As Charley began to unwrap the bandage from his chest, he took the shirt from the table and tossed it over his shoulder.
"If it means I don't have to wear that stupid bandage, I'll just go shirtless." Charley watched him fight to keep a straight face.
"This might hurt a bit." Charley reaches toward the man's chest with a swab covered with alcohol and antibiotic, and slowly dabs at the wound. He learned very quickly that the man had a high pain tolerance, and was surprised when, as the cotton came in contact with his chest, the man flinched visibly.
He looked up at Reese with interest.
"It was cold. I wasn't paying attention," he said with a shrug. Charley looked closer at the man's eyes to see if he was lying. He still couldn't convince himself that he wasn't reading too much into Reese's looks and side comments. The more he wanted to think that there was a mutual attraction, the more evidence he thought of to the contrary.
As Charley packed up the antibiotics and put away his gloves, he worked up the nerve to ask a question that had been burning in his mind--along with a spectacular image of the body in question:
"So, where did you get these other scars?" he asked tentatively, reaching out his hand to lightly feel the mottled tissue of Reese's shoulder.
Reese's eyes closed at the caress. His mouth opened and closed, and then he opened his eyes again. "You want a beer?" He asked.
Charley's heart fell. "Sure."
Reese rose and walked past Charley toward the kitchen without a word. Charley buried his face in his hands and marveled at his stupidity. He remembered now more than ever why he had married Michelle. She was quiet, she was pretty, she was smart. He could always maintain the illusion of control without having to always assume responsibility. He could ride off on his motorcycle when he felt powerless, relishing the roar of an engine between his thighs that was entirely at his beck and call, and she would understand. He never had to fear rejection from her, she loved him and she trusted him. He finds Sarah again, only to find out that she had never believed in a them. When he finally starts to open his heart up to let someone in, he gets burned again. If his bike had been out back, he would have climbed on it and ridden it until it or he could go no further. He desperately needed to feel in control again, to feel like a man, not like some idiotic, crushing teen.
He didn't hear the footsteps behind him. The first thing that registered was the warm, strong lips pressed against his own. He opened his eyes to find himself standing, turned around, and pressed against the still-shirtless Reese. His fears completely forgotten, he opened his mouth and kissed back, slowly exploring the rough lips against his own. His tongue began the quest into the hot, waiting mouth beneath his and met no resistance. He tentatively brought a hand up and placed it against the warm flesh of the resistance fighter's muscular abdomen, picking up confidence when Reese didn't pull away. He felt the warm, slippery tongue follow his own back into his mouth, and then he was being kissed deeply, thoroughly, roughly. In no time flat, he was being pressed against the wall, a strong hand bracing his neck while the other unbuckled his belt and untucked his shirt. Their lips broke contact for a single agonizing second as his shirt was drawn up over his head, and then their tongues intertwined again.
Charley's hands moved with a mind of their own against the sweaty, scarred flesh pressed up against his. He explored every inch of the body within reach, intoxicated with heat and longing. The pressure between his legs was tightening with every panting breath, with every moan of need breathed into his mouth. Rough fingers swept trails of fire along his skin, immolating the last of his inhibition.
Charley felt Derek's fingers slide between them again and down to the waist of his jeans, where they made short work of the button and fly. Their mouths parted and Charley opened his eyes to find twin green rings only inches from them, silently asking permission. Knowing that words would fail him, he leaned forward and placed a light kiss on the man's wet lips in answer.
In a show of strength that Charley couldn't help being impressed by, Derek reached down and picked him up, setting his legs astride his waist. Charley laughed and wrapped his arms around the man's shoulders and allowed himself to be carried into the next room and thrown onto the bed, where Derek began to kiss him slowly from his neck on down. As the kisses trailed their way down his stomach, he arched his back into the welcome moist lips and smooth tongue. He bit his cheek and held his breath as Derek swiftly attacked his aching heat.
---
Soundtrack: Snow Patrol - Chasing Cars
Reese knew what he was doing. It'd been a long time since he'd been with anyone... even longer since he'd been with a guy, but desperate times had called for desperate measures, and he called upon every pleasurable flick and twist and well-placed hum that he had picked up along the way to express the gratitude he felt toward the strong man who was presently lying beneath him completely helpless to resist. When he felt Charley's breath quickening and his muscles tightening, he slowed down and backed off, trailing soft kisses up to the softly moaning mouth of Charley Dixon. He took his hand and slowly kept pace with Charley's forced slow breathing, giving him time to regain some semblance of control.
Derek sped up his pace as Charley's hand found its way to his belt, unbuckling it and fumbling with the button on his jeans. He reached his other hand down to help, and soon they were both lying on the bed, completely naked, eyes locked together, hands slowly carrying one another toward an inevitable climax. He leaned in, softly biting and sucking at the soft skin at the base of the EMT's neck, kissing back to the man's mouth. He controlled his breathing as best he could, held back his own ecstasy until he felt Charley bucking into his hand. They both let go in the same instant, collapsing as one into the racking aftermath of their climax. When his body was his own again, Derek gathered the other man into his arms and whispered the only words that even came close to how he was feeling.
"Thank you."
Comments are much appreciated! Sorry again for an unbeta'd fic, but I do my best =)
Soundtrack: Lifehouse - Hanging By a Moment
Derek had been thinking about nothing but survival and the mission for so long, he hardly remembered what it felt like to obsess over anything else. He couldn't even remember the last time he cared for someone other than his brother... but more and more his mind would wander back to the rough, handsome man who had saved his life.
It had been nearly a week since they met... a week during which Derek could barely restrain himself whenever Charley showed up to check on his wounds and change his bandage. A week during which he wished with all of his pent-up energy that Sarah and her son would just get the fuck out of the house. A week during which he was forced to cherish the brief brushes of skin, the knowing smiles, and the deep voice of Charley Dixon. A week in which he began to wonder if the metal guardian John had sent himself was capable of recognizing the lust and want in his eyes... it always seemed to be around when he and Charley were together.
It wasn't until Sarah convinced the robot to accompany her back to the resistance fighters' safe house to pick up the second stash of supplies about which Reese had informed her that he got any privacy.
---
Charley was on his way back from the hospital, and drove by the Connor stronghold (or so he thought of it) to make sure there were no lasting complications to the bullet wound in one of its occupants. He knew this charade wasn't going to last... it was healing nicely, and it would only require a few more clean bandages. All of which could be administered by Sarah or John just as easily as him.
Or even the Very Scary Robot, he thought to himself. He still couldn't decide--or, perhaps, admit to himself--if he kept coming back for Sarah, or if it was for Reese. He was content with allowing Sarah to believe that it was for her, as it gave him more time to figure it out for himself.
The house seemed quieter than usual as he pulled up, out of sight from the main road. He thought the house was deserted when he entered, but soon found the recovering fighter sitting in a chair in the back room facing the window, lost in thought.
"Hey," he ventured.
The man in front of him rose slowly and turned, sliding the chair closer to the table and re-seating himself. "A new bandage already?" he inquired.
"Yeah. It's probably the last one you'll need." Charley sat himself down in the chair in front of Reese, propped the aid kit open on the table, and turned to face him.
"At this point, it's mostly to keep your shirt--" he reached forward, and began to pull the slightly damp white undershirt off of the muscular chest, "--from making it any more difficult to heal."
Reese put his arms over his head and allowed his shirt to be removed. As Charley began to unwrap the bandage from his chest, he took the shirt from the table and tossed it over his shoulder.
"If it means I don't have to wear that stupid bandage, I'll just go shirtless." Charley watched him fight to keep a straight face.
"This might hurt a bit." Charley reaches toward the man's chest with a swab covered with alcohol and antibiotic, and slowly dabs at the wound. He learned very quickly that the man had a high pain tolerance, and was surprised when, as the cotton came in contact with his chest, the man flinched visibly.
He looked up at Reese with interest.
"It was cold. I wasn't paying attention," he said with a shrug. Charley looked closer at the man's eyes to see if he was lying. He still couldn't convince himself that he wasn't reading too much into Reese's looks and side comments. The more he wanted to think that there was a mutual attraction, the more evidence he thought of to the contrary.
As Charley packed up the antibiotics and put away his gloves, he worked up the nerve to ask a question that had been burning in his mind--along with a spectacular image of the body in question:
"So, where did you get these other scars?" he asked tentatively, reaching out his hand to lightly feel the mottled tissue of Reese's shoulder.
Reese's eyes closed at the caress. His mouth opened and closed, and then he opened his eyes again. "You want a beer?" He asked.
Charley's heart fell. "Sure."
Reese rose and walked past Charley toward the kitchen without a word. Charley buried his face in his hands and marveled at his stupidity. He remembered now more than ever why he had married Michelle. She was quiet, she was pretty, she was smart. He could always maintain the illusion of control without having to always assume responsibility. He could ride off on his motorcycle when he felt powerless, relishing the roar of an engine between his thighs that was entirely at his beck and call, and she would understand. He never had to fear rejection from her, she loved him and she trusted him. He finds Sarah again, only to find out that she had never believed in a them. When he finally starts to open his heart up to let someone in, he gets burned again. If his bike had been out back, he would have climbed on it and ridden it until it or he could go no further. He desperately needed to feel in control again, to feel like a man, not like some idiotic, crushing teen.
He didn't hear the footsteps behind him. The first thing that registered was the warm, strong lips pressed against his own. He opened his eyes to find himself standing, turned around, and pressed against the still-shirtless Reese. His fears completely forgotten, he opened his mouth and kissed back, slowly exploring the rough lips against his own. His tongue began the quest into the hot, waiting mouth beneath his and met no resistance. He tentatively brought a hand up and placed it against the warm flesh of the resistance fighter's muscular abdomen, picking up confidence when Reese didn't pull away. He felt the warm, slippery tongue follow his own back into his mouth, and then he was being kissed deeply, thoroughly, roughly. In no time flat, he was being pressed against the wall, a strong hand bracing his neck while the other unbuckled his belt and untucked his shirt. Their lips broke contact for a single agonizing second as his shirt was drawn up over his head, and then their tongues intertwined again.
Charley's hands moved with a mind of their own against the sweaty, scarred flesh pressed up against his. He explored every inch of the body within reach, intoxicated with heat and longing. The pressure between his legs was tightening with every panting breath, with every moan of need breathed into his mouth. Rough fingers swept trails of fire along his skin, immolating the last of his inhibition.
Charley felt Derek's fingers slide between them again and down to the waist of his jeans, where they made short work of the button and fly. Their mouths parted and Charley opened his eyes to find twin green rings only inches from them, silently asking permission. Knowing that words would fail him, he leaned forward and placed a light kiss on the man's wet lips in answer.
In a show of strength that Charley couldn't help being impressed by, Derek reached down and picked him up, setting his legs astride his waist. Charley laughed and wrapped his arms around the man's shoulders and allowed himself to be carried into the next room and thrown onto the bed, where Derek began to kiss him slowly from his neck on down. As the kisses trailed their way down his stomach, he arched his back into the welcome moist lips and smooth tongue. He bit his cheek and held his breath as Derek swiftly attacked his aching heat.
---
Soundtrack: Snow Patrol - Chasing Cars
Reese knew what he was doing. It'd been a long time since he'd been with anyone... even longer since he'd been with a guy, but desperate times had called for desperate measures, and he called upon every pleasurable flick and twist and well-placed hum that he had picked up along the way to express the gratitude he felt toward the strong man who was presently lying beneath him completely helpless to resist. When he felt Charley's breath quickening and his muscles tightening, he slowed down and backed off, trailing soft kisses up to the softly moaning mouth of Charley Dixon. He took his hand and slowly kept pace with Charley's forced slow breathing, giving him time to regain some semblance of control.
Derek sped up his pace as Charley's hand found its way to his belt, unbuckling it and fumbling with the button on his jeans. He reached his other hand down to help, and soon they were both lying on the bed, completely naked, eyes locked together, hands slowly carrying one another toward an inevitable climax. He leaned in, softly biting and sucking at the soft skin at the base of the EMT's neck, kissing back to the man's mouth. He controlled his breathing as best he could, held back his own ecstasy until he felt Charley bucking into his hand. They both let go in the same instant, collapsing as one into the racking aftermath of their climax. When his body was his own again, Derek gathered the other man into his arms and whispered the only words that even came close to how he was feeling.
"Thank you."
Comments are much appreciated! Sorry again for an unbeta'd fic, but I do my best =)