From: WPAdmirer Date: 22 Aug 2000 19:01:53 GMT Subject: NEW: CHICAGO STORIES II: THE BIRTHDAY TITLE: CHICAGO STORIES II: THE BIRTHDAY AUTHOR: WPAdmirer@aol.com ARCHIVE: Yes, but please write and tell me where. CATEGORY: Slash Crossover (XF-ER) Skinner/John Carter, AU (Alternate Universe - cause damnit, I like the beard) SPOILERS: None RATING: NC-17 SUMMARY: It's John's birthday. AUTHOR'S NOTES: I got tired of waiting for some good John Carter slash, and there's never enough Skinner fic to suit me. The full set of stories (thus far) can be found at the Complete Kingdom of Slash, under ER fic: http://slasharchive.simplenet.com/warn.htm and in the Basement Archive under WPAdmirer: http://www.squidge.org/basement/library/XAUTHW.htm. At the moment I don't have a personal page. Sorry! DISCLAIMER: It's not the author's intention to infringe upon or profit from the characters created and owned by Chris Carter, 1013 Productions or the Fox Network, nor Warner Brothers and NBC. Skinner and Carter were borrowed temporarily and returned almost immediately. SPECIAL NOTES: This story was beta'd by McAddr and Bone and KiMeriKal while my dear friend ewade was moving into her new house. I want to thank them for their generous help. It's been months since I posted a John/Walter story, and I want to thank all of you who wrote to me and asked when I was going to get back to them. Real life wasn't cooperating, but hopefully things will go well now. Thank you for your patience, and maybe this little birthday interlude PWP will be a nice way of getting back into the swing of things. ************************************************************ THE BIRTHDAY by WPAdmirer Walter was determined that this would be the best birthday that John Carter ever had. To that end, he'd rented a sailboat. Not that he knew dick about boats. He'd asked for something big enough to be comfortable for two people, and he'd paid enough fucking money for the day to have bought the goddamn boat. At least it seemed that way. But he didn't regret a dime of it when they were gliding across the water and John Carter's face glowed with pleasure. Walter had never seen a look like it on John's face. He looked both serene and happy. The most amazing thing about the day had been the silence. The silence as the boat glided across the surface of the lake. The silence of John Carter as he guided the boat. Other than a few brief words to direct Walter to move this way or that, or tie this thing or that, he'd not said a word for the hours they were on the water. John Carter silent was an entirely new experience. Now, trapped beneath Walter's braced hands, John Carter was anything but silent. He gasped groaned, moaned, and talked. "Oh, Walter, fuck, God, yes, there. SHIT. Oh, fuck, that feels so good, Walter. Yeah, Christ. Harder, there, yes, AH, AH! No, don't slow down! Fuck, Walter, you're killing me. Please." Walter smiled. John's face was bright with sweat and red with the flush of arousal. John's hands gripped Walter's biceps, and his legs were up against Walter's sides. Walter's penis was buried in the heat and tightness inside John. John reached down to grasp his own penis, and Walter grabbed his wrist stopping him. "No," he grunted. All John's pleasure would come from him tonight. John threw his head back against the pillow and howled with frustration. "Fuck, Walter! Goddamnit, please." Walter kissed him to shut him up. He felt John surrender to the assault of his mouth. In his mind he could see the silent John, staring out over the surface of the lake, only a small smile breaking the almost trance-like state of his face. Walter broke away from the kiss and John gasped for air. "Fucker," he complained. "Indeed," Walter answered. Walter leaned back slightly, resting his buttocks against his heels, pulling John Carter up with him. John muttered, groaned, shifted and adjusted to the new position, settling his body against Walter, his legs spread across Walter's thighs. Walter pulled him close, reached between them and began to stroke John's penis in short, tight movements. He felt John's body tighten around him, and then the spasms of his orgasm, and the heat of semen on his body and over his hand. He couldn't hold back any longer. He pushed up, hard, as deep as he could get and let the waves of pleasure break over him. Several minutes later he lowered John Carter back to the bed, waiting until he was nearly soft to pull out of John's body. John lay in a tumble, arms thrown out to the sides, head back, one leg bent up at the knee, and the other straight. His body was crooked on the bed, and he looked as though he'd been tossed there, boneless. Walter rolled onto his back and let his hand stroke the leg that was bent, brushing against the surprisingly hard muscle beneath the lightly furred skin. "Jesus, Walter. You are such a fucking control freak," John Carter said softly. Walter smiled. John Carter's voice wasn't angry or accusing. "Uh-huh," he said softly. "God, when you do that, I ... Christ ... I don't know." John shook his head. "Uh-huh." "Is that all you can say?" Walter turned and looked at John Carter. John's brown eyes were slitted as he watched Walter. "Uh-huh." John pushed against one of Walter's shoulders. "Bastard." They both laughed. "It's been a perfect day, Walter." Walter settled into the rumpled sheets, feeling satisfied. "Thanks." "My pleasure, John Carter." John's breathing became even, and soon he began to snore. Walter almost laughed out loud. God, that earth-shattering, window-breaking snore. When they lived together full-time, John would have to do something about that, or Walter never would get any sleep. Walter stopped breathing. When. He'd just thought "when." Jesus H. Christ. He looked over just as John Carter rolled over, curling up closer to him, nuzzling his face against Walter's shoulder. The snore settled into a lesser buzzing sound. What the fuck was he going to do about this? He brushed John's hair away from his face, and John moved closer to him. Walter could feel him starting to drool. "Oh, John Carter, " Walter whispered, "I...." He closed his eyes. The words just wouldn't come. He couldn't do this. It wasn't safe. For either of them. Goddamn. When. When, John Carter? The End