Previously on Chuck versus The Journey: Chuck just told Sarah that he loves her. Because that's so wonderful, we listen to it again when opening chapter 30. A geek we all know very well (he prefers the term 'nerd', but, as you will see, he couldn't care less at this moment) could tell you that 30 is a primorail (not to be confused with a primordial), a pronic number, the smallest sphenic number (a positive integer that is the product of three distinct prime numbers), a semiperfect number (adding up some subsets of its divisors - e.g., 5, 10 and 15 - gives 30); and more nerdy nitty-gritty. But no one will be surprised that Chuck has no time for any of this.
A/N (2) I don't own Chuck. I don't own FF. I'm not making any money from this. And if you think that this chapter is not going to be a bit hot, think again. No, it's not smut, that's not what's happening here, but it still is a lot of making out and kissing, in good taste. So you know. If you don't want to read about Chuck and Sarah kissing and wearing fewer (but still some!) clothes, then please leave.
You could have a steam train,
If you'd just lay down your tracks.
You could have an aeroplane flying,
If you bring your blue sky back.
All you do is call me,
I'll be anything you need.
You could have a big dipper,
Going up and down, all around the bends.
You could have a bumper car, bumping,
This amusement never ends.
Show me round your fruitcage,
'Cause I will be your honey bee.
Open up your fruitcage,
Where the fruit is as sweet as can be.
"Sledgehammer" (Peter Gabriel)
Chapter 30: Sarah vs. The Jackpot
"I love you, Sarah Walker."
Sarah looked into Chuck's eyes and found no other message there than the words spoken.
It was about time. It had been a year of emotional isolation and sexual frustration. She had been fighting against falling for Chuck Bartowski, not accepting that she already had hopelessly fallen.
Letting him fly away like a yo-yo, only to pull on the string and lure him closer again. Having a cover relationship that left Sarah sad and lonesome when those fake evenings ended, driving home to scream into her pillow in yet another anticlimax because she had not turned the cover passion into a real one. Moodily burying her head for a lonely night, throwing angry knives at everything in her room that dared to make a sound.
On some of those nights, she had played mind games with herself, imagining that he dreamt about the same thing at precisely the same moment.
Was he dreaming that he reclined comfortably in his bed as I enter his room in a trenchcoat – again? This time not giving him some agency shit but unbuttoning the coat while telling him I forgot to put on that purple nothing I wore the last time? Does he dream how I have a seductive smile on my face and slowly walk over to the bed, shedding the coat as my knee touches the linen to slip next to him?
Sarah came back to reality. Yeah, it was about time. Let's dream together.
Since his confession, neither spoke a word, but the longing in his eyes expressed more than the most moving love ballad by Lionel Richie. She slowly raised her head to his until their lips were too close to be apart and kissed him affectionately.
We have all day long. We can celebrate our love leisurely, sensuously, and with relish. Taking all the time in the world until we do the nasty. In about 60 seconds from now.
The tender introduction lasted eternal seconds before it became mutually more insisting. Lips pressed harder as his tongue probed. Sarah let him suffer for a few moments more. When he hummed in frustration, she made a sweet, breathy, happy noise – she accepted his impatience as a compliment to her and the desires she could awake in him – and opened her lips. She took over command immediately, and Chuck joined enthusiastically.
It certainly was their most intimate kiss, lasting longer than any other before and having such quality that none of them would mind if it spanned around 13.8 billion years. The bliss to be in Chuck's arms, knowing that they soon would be one in both the most romantic and most physical way, made her eager and lazy at the same time. She lingered in that capsule of happiness they had created for themselves as only true lovers could. They only came up for air to grin at each other and then returned to the world consisting of the cocoon their emotions had woven.
When Chuck's hands began to roam on her back, Sarah got restless. These large hands promised to be capable of so much more. She pressed against him like she did last night, remembering every small spot on his body, but today, she wasn't wracked with anxiety. She was feverish with passion, and pulling him close didn't soothe but turn on. She rubbed herself against him, feeling wickedly unashamed, and wished she could magically remove their clothes with a nod and a blink. The longer this went on, the more fidgety she became – and she sensed it did the same to him, especially when she eagerly grabbed one of his hands and guided it down to her buttocks.
You stumbled yesterday when you caught a glimpse of my behind. I hope this makes it up for you.
Eventually, she couldn't stand the tension any longer. She unwillingly tore herself away from Chuck's mouth, feeling like Rose DeWitt Bukater saying her last goodbye to Jack Dawson, only consoled by the circumstance that the kiss had been the prelude.
If I look half as well-kissed as he does, then I look pretty ready for the honeymoon bed, she guessed. Chuck touched her lips with his fingers and was absorbed in sinful thoughts that she only could imagine. And imagine Sarah did. A hot wave rushed to her face and other parts when she noted how a little swollen her lips were as his fingers ghosted over them. Flustered, she wondered what associations he conjured but gave him no time to dwell on it. With a swift move, she pulled his t-shirt over his head and threw it to the floor. Placing her hands on his shoulders for a trifle, she soon could not keep her hands from gliding down and lingeringly roaming over his chest.
Such a gorgeous, hairy chest! She marveled. Is there a thing called chest curls too? … Walker, you're a hopeless case! What have you done to me, Chuck?
She savored the sight of Chuck shuddering under her touch and his visible effort to speak to her, torn between wanting to communicate or merely being at the thrilling mercy of her hands.
I can apply this sweet torture to my man. 'My man'! How high can we soar since we have only just begun?
"What have you done to me, Sarah?"
Her mouth opened in joyous delight. "That's what I'm asking you!"
It took him a moment to realize that not only was he overrun by his emotions as if the bulls of the Pamplona bull run had all stormed over him, but also that Sarah and he were running the encierro hand in hand. The cognizance that she was in this as much as he was, gave his usually unassuming masculinity a massive boost. Even the little pessimistic voice in his head was joining in the jubilation that threatened to make his heart jump out of his ribcage. Sarah didn't give him time to ponder about it as she dove for his chest and peppered it with small, short kisses, quickly as if she had to hurry because she couldn't decide where to kiss him next. Even more disconcerting in the best way possible was that her blonde shock of hair constantly moved further down.
Sarah was zealous to make up for a year lost to her indecisiveness, hot-tempered storming through all the phases of her dreams. She needed release. Her former patience to take it slow intolerably stood in her way like a natural person she had to shove forcefully aside. She mentally grappled Miss Patience and hurled her out of the way, immediately returning to her next step in possessing Chuck, feeling like in a music clip racing for the grand crescendo with a flurry of fast cuts and camera pannings. She squatted down in front of him and provokingly spread her bare thighs more than necessary to keep her balance, for the only reason to make Chuck's head spin even faster whenever he looked down.
Don't let him pause for breath. Don't be modest about your charms. Make him so hungry for you that he will devour you with his eyes… and then some. It's All-You-Can-It today, Chuckie, and I'm your dessert. And you are mine.
She opened his belt buckle and, with a hefty pull, removed the belt, pulling it through all the belt loops in one slick move. It was altogether unnecessary in the process of undressing him. Still, it had the desired effect of making him tremble so much in anticipation that he had to place a steadying hand on her shoulder. Seconds later, his trousers followed his shirt after she helped him out of them and carelessly tossed them to the floor.
Now, Sarah. Will he live up to your expectations… and will you to his?
She pushed the thought aside and fixedly stared at his boxers a few inches from her face, then hooked her fingers into the seam as she looked up at him, her tongue sneaking out between her lips. Her face glowed in satisfaction that her fervent fondling had an effect on Chuck that he was unable to avert or display.
Drive him crazy! You are safe with him. Your wishes, your fears, your desires, your vulnerabilities. You can drop all your shields, you can do anything you want, live out every fantasy you have, and he will be there with you at your side. Or under you. Or on top of you. Everywhere you want him, anyway you want him. I know since last night. I can trust him with everything.
She realized that a year of longing also brought a year of enormous hopes and a tremendous burden of expectations both of them had to live up to.
What if Chuck doesn't kindle that spark into a fire? What if I don't have the touch he is craving? What if-
She clasped his boxers harder.
Pull them down, Sarah, pull them down.
She knew she could be pretty forward and demanding, so why didn't she just let that Sarah take charge? Was she afraid of her own pace? Did insecurity about their future in her cold and deadly world bite her in the ankle as surprising as a snake hidden in knee-high grass bites? Before her mind began to spiral, she understood that she wasn't alone in such mental struggles anymore.
Love. More than just a game for two. Somehow she never had realized that fact in her previous life, as grotesque and almost sick as it sounded. But possibly her love life had been a farce so far. Sometimes entertaining, sometimes not so much, but still, an unreal execution of physical moves compared to what she hoped to gain now.
I won't back down because of a few stray, distracting thoughts. I want you. But I need your help to get this hanky-panky off the ground, Chuck.
Sarah looked up at him. "Jackpot," she grated with a voice shaken by carnal craving.
•••••••••••••••••••
Give Chuck Bartowski clear directions, and he doesn't tarry.
He hoisted her into his arms effortlessly.
Yes, Chuck, carry me to our bed one more time. Let us replace the angst of yesterday with the lust of today.
"You're sure?" he asked. He looked down at the sexy whirlwind. Sarah knew why he still hesitated, why he offered her to back out of the romance - he had experienced what panic can do in his youth. He wanted her decision for him to be hers, not a product of seeking shelter from the storm; a decision she later would consider as the right one - even after. She knew his restraint was groundless, and although she had made pretty clear advances, her heart melted over his question. This was the right man and all she had to do was to assure him that it was the right moment.
All of the sudden, Sarah had no trouble to reply to him now that he had taken things into his hands and her body into his arms. How wonderful it was not to have to prove anything but simply be spoiled and pampered. That's what he's gonna do, right?
"You said you'd take over control if I say 'Jackpot," she half-asked. "All you have in your arms," she declared, sparsely gesturing down at herself with only a motion of her eyes, "is yours."
I almost lost it when she yanked away my belt. All ye men and women of Justice League of America, please give me the strength to make her happy!
She wore a men's dress shirt and not a red dress, and he sported a slightly stubbled chin – hadn't he shaved today? – and not a natty mustache, and the fire burning was love and not civil war, but she could not help to make the comparison.
"I feel like that woman on this old movie poster," she mumbled. Chuck – dear revered nerd who caught every movie reference from Charlie Chaplin's City Lights to Steven Soderbergh's Ocean Thirteen – gave her a deliberately overdone manly gaze as if he was about to throw her on the bed and take her without further overture. Then he proved he knew what she was referring to as he countered.
"You should be kissed, and often, and by someone who knows how."
He carried her to the bed, and she had a strong sense of déjà vu. But yesterday, she had trembled in fear, while today it was in desire. Instinctively, she reached out to pull him down to her as he placed her gently on the bed, but he caught her arms and held them.
"Chuck, I need to-" she pleaded to allow her to touch him.
"No, you don't need to do anything. Remember, 'Jackpot'? Wait, there's an exception - I need you to do one more thing for me."
She waited with bated breath. His words were familiar, but she didn't know yet if it was a coincidence. "Trust me, Sarah."
He's quoting me! I knew it!
Sarah swallowed.
I trusted you with my life already. I willingly trust you with my body and soul, she only thought, remaining silent and pulling her arms back empty. But whatever you do, don't wait too long, or I'm going to hijack the Bony Express for a fiery ride.
Chuck knelt at her side and cupped her face in his hands. His palms were warm, and his fingers just a tiny bit rough from all the computer bricolage he did. Sarah closed her eyes, leaned into those hands, and it felt like Chuck cupped her whole being. He patiently waited until she looked at him again and then slowly moved closer. When she thought she would drown in the ocean of his gold-sprinkled brown eyes, he kissed her.
Chuck went to work slowly but intensely. He didn't seem to have any other care in the world than to kiss her and all the time of the universe at his hands. He was not putting any other expectation into the moment than the gesture to be reciprocated. No hands roamed the naked skin under the shirt. No fingers felt for her chest, and he didn't press his body against hers either. He was only concentrating on her mouth, and she gave in with cute little sighs that he seemed to steal from her lips in the blink they escaped. The sighs turned into soft moans while they had to come up for air, her chest heaving from what started as a simple kiss becoming the center of their world, evoking goosebumps-inducing curiosity about what he would do next.
Then he suddenly withdrew. That crooked smile Sarah loved so much – after seeing a documentary the past August on some day much lonelier than this, she had found out it was very, very close to the pout of the young Elvis – almost made her swoon. It had a different quality today. His fingers opened the shirt's remaining buttons while that smile arrested her with confidence, and she didn't even have to help him to get out of it as he had undressed her so deftly that it left her deliciously speechless.
Then she lay there in all her glory, the last small piece of clothing being those silky white panties that by now clung to her rosy flesh.
Chuck had seen Sarah countless times. Her Wienerlicious dress had been nothing less than a reason for a lawsuit of sexual exploitation with good prospects, and he had ignored it as best as he could. She was not too shy to toy with the image and sometimes, when they were chatting, handled those Wieners in a way that he thought it was him frying in the sizzling hot oil. The new yogurt girl outfit was so much more her style and accentuating her athletic nature. Then there were those tight jeans and leggings, blouses and shorts and sports-bras. He dreamt for twelve months about leaving all that behind and of moments like the one unfolding, if he was honest. Chuck was not ashamed to admit that. His love wouldn't end there on that crib of pleasure.
Still, his mouth went dry in awe, and he felt a lump in his throat as he drank in Sarah's beauty. The woman he adored felt another bolt of arousal over his stunned reaction.
He opened his mouth, closed it perplexed, swallowed hard, and only managed to speak on the third attempt.
"And on the Eighth Day, God created Sarah Walker!"
•••••••••••••••••••
A/N (3) Rose DeWitt Bukater & Jack Dawson: Main protagonists in James Cameron's Titanic (1997).
A/N (4) Encierro: Bull run. The most popular bull run in Spain takes place each July in Pamplona. Its popularity is to no small amount owed to Ernest Hemingway, who described it in his books The Sun Also Rises and Death in the Afternoon.
A/N (5) Justice League of America: Probably unnecessary to mention, the J.L. is a DC Comics team of fictional superheroes including, among others, Superman and Batman.
A/N (6) You should be kissed, and often, and by someone who knows how: If you don't know where I borrowed this (or Chuck borrowed it since I don't own anything), then, frankly, my dear, …
A/N (7) Stories should be reviewed, and often, and by someone who knows how. Guess that means you!