TITLE: CHICAGO STORIES II: THE ARRIVAL
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 - Definitely.
SUMMARY: Walter arrives in Chicago and John is very glad to see him.
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 ER nfic site: 
http://www.geocities.com/TelevisionCity/Studio/5437/wpadmirer.htm  and my own site:
http://chateauke.simplenet.com/chimerical/chicago/index.htm 
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 THANKS: To KiMeriKal and ewade for beta reading and friendship.
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CHICAGO STORIES II: THE ARRIVAL

by WPAdmirer


John Carter spent the entire day with the weird combination of a persistent erection and a stomach in turmoil. He'd tried to eat breakfast and thrown it up shortly after arriving at the hospital. The thought of lunch had nauseated him enough that he'd just skipped it. He couldn't even drink coffee. He'd sipped Gatorade all day. Carefully.

He'd taken a cab home, knowing that the wait for the El would have made him crazy. Kerry Weaver would be home later. She'd been in a meeting when he'd left the hospital, and he was grateful for that. He was not up to making conversation with anyone. Happily he also arrived before Walter.

The clean sheets looked crisp and inviting on the bed. John spread the comforter on top of the sheets and looked around the room. It was neat enough, he guessed. There was no way it would ever be as neat as Walter's place. He wondered if Walter would follow behind  him here, picking up towels, socks, and dirty underwear. 

The good thing about John's room was that it was small so there was less space to clutter. The bad thing about his room was that it was small and there was less space to clutter. He'd picked up the clothes, hung up clean towels, and put one of those plug-in air fresheners in the bathroom. 

He'd also showered, washed his hair, trimmed his beard and put on a fresh shirt and pants. John stopped for a moment to think about that. Who had he cleaned up for? His grandfather or Walter? The erection in his pants was probably the answer to that question. He was as nervous as he'd been on his first date. 

The doorbell rang and John fell over his own feet turning around quickly to go upstairs. He pulled himself off the floor and ran up the steps, taking two at a time. When he opened the front door he was panting, and not only from the short run. 

The sternness dropped from Walter's face and he smiled. He reached out and John moved into his arm and met Walter's mouth with his own.  Walter tasted of toothpaste and heat. John knew he wasn't breathing, but he couldn't and didn't care. Walter was here, real, in his arms, kissing him.  At that moment he felt like this was all he ever needed to feel, breathe, or eat. It was all here embodied in the physical being of Walter Skinner.

Walter pulled away and gasped, "Jesus, John Carter."

He stepped inside and dropped his suit bag onto the floor next to the door.  Walter pulled John closer, pulling his shirt out of his pants, reaching beneath the fabric to touch John's nipples. His fingers were rough and warm and John leaned into the them, pressing as much of his body against Walter's as he could. 

John realized he was gripping Walter's tie in his fist. He roughly began to loosen the knot of the tie and finally succeeding pulled it from Walter's collar and dropped it on the floor. Then his hands began to work the buttons on the starched white shirt. 

As John stripped Walter's shirt off his shoulders and dropped it to the floor, Walter broke away from him to pull his still-buttoned shirt over his head.  Walter pushed the door shut behind them and they began to back up toward the kitchen. Shoes were discarded at the kitchen door. John's t-shirt disappeared at the top of the stairs. 

Miraculously they made it down the steps together, only once stumbling right at the bottom as Walter succeeded in making John's pants drop off his hips to the floor. At the bedroom door John stepped out of them and they staggered into the bedroom.

Walter wasted no time. He pushed John back onto the bed, pulling his boxers off in one quick motion. He stepped back, opened his pants and pushed off slacks and briefs. He pulled John up, kissed him hard, then let his tongue trace the line of John's lips, the line of his jaw, and finally the folds of one ear.

John felt himself go boneless, liquid in Walter's arms. He'd never had anyone make his ears into an erotic zone before Walter. It had never occurred to him ears could be erotic, but now, oh God, now. 

"Condoms, lube?" Walter growled into John's ear.

"Night stand," was all John could get out.

Walter moved him closer to the head of the bed and reached for the lube.  Then he turned John around, pressing his erection deep into the cleft between John's buttocks. "Hands and knees."

John's sex-benumbed mind vaguely grasped the notion of that position.  He clumsily tried to move to it, but Walter impatiently pulled him into position.  Cool lube covered fingers replaced the heat of Walter's penis on the surface of John's anus. He shivered, half with the cold and half with desire. 

The fingers of one of Walter's hands pulled at John's nipples, then dropped to his groin. The tip of one finger spread the pre-ejaculate from John's penis around the head, and then Walter's hot, dry palm covered it, the fingers squeezing along the shaft. John pushed toward the hand and at that moment felt one of Walter's thick fingers move from stroking the ring of his anus to pressing against it, pushing inside. 

John was caught between twin pleasures, wanting more of both Walter's hand on his penis and the finger penetrating him. He moaned in frustration and Walter pressed the finger deeper, as far as it would go.

"God, you get tighter every time," Walter whispered. 

"Sweet Jesus, Walter, just fuck me, please."

Walter kissed the back of John's neck, his lips leaving just the slightest trace of moisture which quickly began to cool after the heat of Walter's mouth. Without another sound, John felt the blunt pressure and the sudden burn as Walter pushed the head of his penis past John's anus.

John froze, panting, waiting for the burn to stop. Walter stroked his ribs down to his hips. John pushed back a little and felt the flare of pain again. He cried out and Walter steadied him, "Breathe, John Carter." His whisper did nothing to calm John, arousing him more, making him push back again to take a little more of the thick shaft of Walter's penis. 

It had been too long and he wanted it too much, and John could not stop pushing back to gain that feeling, that fullness that came from having Walter inside him. He felt Walter shift position slightly and thrust in further. The white hot jolt of pleasure burned out from his prostate through all the nerve endings of his body. His rectum clenched tightly at Walter's penis and it was Walter's turn to cry out.

They both became lost in the pure sensation of fucking, thrusting hard against his each other, moaning and mumbling admonishments to do it harder, and out-cries about heat and size. It was not long before they were both shouting at the release of their orgasms. They held each other up for a moment, then collapsed onto the bed, lying curled together, sweat-slickened bodies cooling in the chill air of the basement.

"Oh God." 

Walter chuckled and John could feel it vibrate from Walter's chest to his back. "I agree."

"By the way, hello, Walter. Nice to see you again."

"We kind of skipped that part, didn't we?"

"Oh, yeah. Not that I'm complaining."

Walter leaned in and kissed John softly. "Hello, John Carter. I've missed you."


The End