A/N (1) Previously on Chuck versus The Journey: In typical Charah manner, Chuck and Sarah ended up in a Jacuzzi in the late night or early morn, and, all exhaustion aside, arrive at a point when Sarah desires to be pampered more than Chuck had planned. Like a few chapters before, this one might get a little heated, no worry no smut, nothing dirty, but very clean passion (they're sitting in a jacuzzi, after all). And I can guarantee that there are no fistfights, no knifefights, no gunfights, and no explosions. Gee, I have to correct myself: About the last one, we'll have to see what happens...

And then you get it, get it, get it, get it,
Hit it, hit it, hit it, hit it,
Flip it, flip it, flip it,
You make me say oh, oh!
Twist it, twist it, twist it, twist it,
Mix it and mix it and mix it and mix it,
Kiss it, kiss it, kiss it,
You make me say oh, oh!
I like the way you lick the bowl,
Somehow your method touches my soul.
"Sweetener" (Pharrell Williams & Ariana Grande)

Chapter 45: Chuck vs. The Triple-Dare

Sarah meandered along a path of exquisite pleasure that, she knew for sure, would end at a pinnacle of joy only Chuck could evoke. The blood was rushing in her ears as she faintly wished she could change a few things about the situation.

Like she wished the bubbles were gone, and she could see down between her legs and him washing her, as she put it. She also wanted to squirm but felt that the heat had not wiped out the tiredness. As a change to yesterday's frantic lovemaking, this time, she was comfortable in merely resting in the tub and experiencing Chuck's full-service.

There are worse ways to break down from exhaustion, Sarah thought, only to have doubts immediately. No, I can't do that. It's unfair. I have seen what our nearness did to him. I would be a bad girlfriend if I take advantage of his hands and then not make love to him, but I am simply too tired for anything else than to soak and sigh, and it's not fair.

"No," she whined, frustrated that the idea of a night of passion that had ever so slowly formed in her mind was out of reach. Some thing else was not out of reach as her left hand tried to find his arm under the water, and she recoiled after she touched that thing.

Now you know it, Walker. You can't have your own fun and then leave him in that condition. You can't do this to the poor guy.

"Chuck, no," she said, laboriously breathing from his touch. "I can't do this."

His mien was as perplexed as every man's face when not understanding his woman's words. All the cheap jokes about 'What women say and what they really mean' came to his mind. But none of those low puns gave him any insight into what she meant. Understanding women could not be accomplished by consulting internet joke sites. And as a tech guy, he did not expect to find one practical user manual either. Chuck arrived at a terrifying realization.

Like all the men before me, I am on my own. I have to live and learn and pray. There are no atheists in relationships.

"But," he reasoned, "you aren't doing anything. You relax while the gem in your jewelry box is carefully polished-"

Sarah interrupted him as swiftly – not only his speaking but also the things his hand did - as she could, thankfully snickering that he didn't make up a dessert innuendo.

"See, I'm trying to have an-" she began but stopped herself.

Better not mention the o-word. It's unnecessary cruelty to both parties at this stage.

Chuck still seemed to have gotten the gist as he repeated his argument. He looked a bit sad.

"But I am caressing you. You don't need to do anything but to enjoy yourself, and actually, that was the impression I had the past few minutes."

Oh yeah, I stopped you on my way to my first one today, so it's my fault. But will you please listen to me, as I think you're the first man in my life who cares enough about me to have such a conversation? … I only have to find the right, snappy words to catch your attention. Otherwise, I'm afraid the nearness of our bodies will overrule everything I can say. You're a man, after all.

"Mr. Bartowski, female orgasm is a serious thing. We girls are connaisseurs and like to take some time and effort. That's not like some guys who get horny in a minute and get done in another."

Sarah had his attention, but she also came down from her almost-there-height a few notches as if tumbling down the stairs because she realized that he might think she directed her words at him.

Here's the fabulous guy who helped you to spell out correctly – that is, when your mouth wasn't salivating too much - the word multiorgasmic, and you make him think he's not good enough in bed.

"I'm sorry, Chuck, I didn't mean you. I'm entirely over the moon with the way we make love, and I'm not talking about you, but-"

You're talking yourself into some kind of helluva trouble. Now you start to talk about another man that had been in your life – while Chuck's hand is on your female core, and you only need to reach out for him, as you just noticed. I get it we are pretty casual, but I possibly would throw a fit if he started to talk about Jill right this moment. And what do I do? Good job, Walker. Whatever he sees in you, it certainly couldn't be your diplomatic skills, noble demureness, and relationship competence.

Chuck didn't say anything. His face was as cryptic as hers often had been throughout the last year. She hated that she ever gave him that look as it enervated her profoundly not to know what he was thinking.

"Ok, ok," Sarah misinterpreted the missing expression with a deflating sigh. "It's about Bryce. He's a loser in the sack."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Chuck said, and if it weren't impossible while soaking in the tub, she would have slipped and fallen from surprise.

"You are what?" she asked to be sure.

He didn't have too much vodka?

Chuck understood her incredulous face and wasn't stepping back from his words, obviously resting sure enough in his own masculinity not to be bothered who had been in her life earlier.

What a difference a day makes.

"I'm sorry that you didn't have the… pleasure that someone as wonderful as you deserves. It's as simple as that."

"Perhaps I'm not as wonderful as you think," she retorted and thought that it was a bit weird to try to talk him out of his adoring views about her.

I'm like a car dealer who's telling the customer that the car he wants is no good. You have confidence issues yourself, but you shouldn't when Chuck is around.

"Can you stop talking crap?" he said sternly but with a mocked desperate smile, the edge taken off of his words as his hand was still laying stationary between her legs, slightly curved over her core as if it was protecting her.

All she could offer him was a bashful smile.

"You're too marvelous to be described with the vocabulary found in Merriam-Websters. You are a human being. You carry your cross as we all do, or as you said, come with a lot of baggage. That's what Chuck's here for, to help you carry. Among other things."

He paused, and she sensed it was not to find the words but to say the words on his lips. He took a deep breath and continued, not loud or aggressive, but determined with a touch of sarcastic humor.

"If I wanted something that has no problems, no own opinion, no voice to be heard, no brain of her own, offering her orifices and being stashed away until I have that need again, I could buy as well a silicone sex doll. Or, probably, given my wages, a paper doll, you know, like in-" and he began to sing once more "-I'm gonna buy a paper doll that I can call my own."

Sarah looked at him with big eyes. Chuck was getting upset over the question if she was wonderful. He didn't let anyone say otherwise, and that included herself. If it had not been so incredibly touching, it would have been funny.

Defending me against myself. Chuck tackles even the hardest tasks with abandon.

"Like it or not," he said very softly, "all that you bring with you, good or bad, has made you what you are. And you are wonderful. If you need it in written form to believe it, I'll write an old-fashioned love letter telling you so every day for the rest of my life."

That's a lot of letters, she thought, and it's such a sweet, innocent idea. But where would I store all the paper because I would keep these all?

Chuck's tone changed again. He switched to his bedroom voice, and since yesterday, she knew he had one.

"And I want to assure you, regarding the physical side of our relationship, there's nothing as serious for me as your… Sarahgasms."

Sarah pressed her left eye closed to smush a tear that suddenly and uninvited had appeared there.

Sarahgasm, she repeated, sensing he probably invented it to ease her mind. It's all mine, and he makes it his most important goal. But that makes my dilemma tonight even more significant, and I have to tell him.

"I love that word," she said. "It's so intimately about me alone, and I never had so many things that were exclusively mine."

"So Sarahgasm it is. You're still in the mood to do serious female stuff?"

Sarahgasm, serious female stuff, what's next? We should write down these conversations and make a play out of them, like The Charah Dialogues. And… still in the mood? Let's call it, again in the mood. You don't even need to sweet-talk me. Did I say that I wish you would move that hand a little bit and then a little bit more?

"But, Chuck, I'm so tired. I'd love being caressed by you, laying here and enjoying it, but I can't have sex later and ride you like…" she blinked because she realized she was about to say something outrageously wacky and had no idea where it came from "...a buckin'... bronco."

Sarah halted for a moment and felt crestfallen.

That can't be happening right now, right? It's the second day of our relationship, and I already give him a, 'Not tonight, dear!', speech.

"I'm so sorry, Chuck, but try to see it from my point of view. I think I would be selfish if we begin now with-"

She knew she had been in his vicinity often enough that she picked up a few of his idiosyncrasies. Not regularly like him, but occasionally. Like switching the topic out of the blue.

"What is this you're doing anyway?" she asked, and his brow shot up. "I mean, where's female sexuality in language? You guys got all these catchy terms, some of them crude, but still, everything has a catchy popular tag no one debates, like all those jobs you are getting from your girlfriends."

She warmed to the topic. Chuck being the last person to accuse, her rather moody rant about tags for sexual activities revealed a razor-sharp mind that conceived the obstacles for women in society.

"Doesn't it say volumes about the appreciation, or lack thereof, for my sexuality as a woman, that there are bedroom activities done to us with no such name tag? In a world where we have memorable, usually one-word labels and cool abbreviations for everything? Sometimes I think sex is all about you guys in our society."

She gave him a pleading look to understand that she was not talking about him and was met with a highly attentive face, disclosing that her thoughts were extremely important to him.

Whoever before took care, or even note, of my mind and what's going on inside me? Whoever but Chuck?

"But how do you describe what you're doing down there with me with an ear-catching term? What do you call it? Polishing the gem in my jewelry box? That's sweet, but that's not as catchy as, if it were the other way 'round, a handjob."

"What I am doing?" he asked with a grin, picking up where he had left off and eliciting a joyfully gasped 'Oh!" from her. Then he proved he understood her. "But we can borrow from those male-centric words you mentioned. Wouldn't you agree we can call it a handjob?"

His gaze remained fixed on her eyes, and she was having trouble following his words and the exciting things his hand did at the same time.

"Handjob is nothing exclusively male, right? It's a hand, it's a job. It's not gendered. It's entirely neutral. It's just what society made out of it that's gendered, that has a male connotation."

He bent to her ear.

"Let's reclaim it for womanhood if you're game for it?"

"Yes, very much," was all she could squeeze out, stunned how simply the world was according to Chuck and how he invited her to be part of it. Sarah gave him a quizzing but affirmative look, and he picked it up correctly.

"We two begin, OK? We two live, love, talk as two equal human beings. Not to pride me but my sister, but I wouldn't know it any other way. Ellie has seen to that. We two, you and I, set an example. First, we take Burbank, then we take Los Angeles."

God, he understands what I'm saying, she thought, hardly able to believe that she was aroused after their fruitful but serious talk. It wasn't dirty talk at all, but to comprehend that he understood her was, literally, mind-blowingly sexy.

If all guys were like him and treated their women accordingly, sexual female empowerment would become superfluous.

"And I sense you misunderstood my intentions. You think this is, well, foreplay, right?"

Sarah nodded, confused – what else would it be?

"Sarah, this is not foreplay. This is the main attraction. You aren't going to have sex with me tonight, even if you beg me on your knees."

The trademarked eyebrow dance accompanied his words, and she snickered.

Ha! I will make you beg on your knees, she thought and smiled back at him, mesmerized by the way he made her feel good so effortlessly. But, ok, I concede a point, I'm so tired. Sitting here is all I can do.

"I see you're not too tired to enjoy my caresses, so why don't you simply allow that to happen? Trust me, it is my pleasure. If you want, and don't start to snore, which would give my ego a severe dent-" he paused to give her the opportunity to punch him with her left hand weakly "-I gladly am at your service. Accept that you're important to me and that I love to lend a hand-" he again paused, but she didn't punch him this time but licked her lips, slowly comprehending that he was unflinching from, well, the task at hand "-and you surrender to your feelings. Isn't it a beautiful word? Surrender yourself to your joy."

Surrender? Yes, a beautiful word. Why don't I give in? Wouldn't it be lovely to leave all these tensions behind and go to sleep heavenly relaxed?

"Please, lend me your hand, I surrender," she whispered and leaned back against his arm. Ever since she saw him working so deftly on the keyboard and pushing all the buttons perfectly in the surveillance van, when Carina made her usual suggestive remarks, she had dreamed that these hands and fingers would do their magic on her controls. Why not when he made such a generous offer?

Sarah was perfectly content with the way his fingers had begun their travels, slow and soft, preparing her meticulously for the passionate part of the journey with a tenderness that came as a whisper and would end up as a storm of passion. Albeit content sounded mediocre compared to what she experienced as their talk had wondrously prepared her – the insight his words gave, the assurance of his love, devotion, and support that lifted her mood right back to where it had been before she began to question the moment.

Now, as her breathing got shallow and quicker, and his lips alternating between her shoulder, cheek and chest became more demanding, she knew his sorcerous touch would propel her into wanton heights. She didn't care that she lustily moaned as feeling how her wild heartbeat ripped her away from reality and pushed her into that magnificent world where only Charah existed, their – so she presumed he would word it – own dimension of love. Then his head sought her temples, resting his lips there.

She blinked to watch the light of the flickering candles reflecting from the marble walls, and she imagined how their shadows would be projected on them, his curly head easily identified, his shoulders exactly moving as she felt it. The vision almost made her lose control.

Sarah wasn't gone that far that she didn't notice his excitement. She silently promised with the last of her willpower that, whatever they talked about her being too tired for sex, she would give him the most incredible ride of his lifetime once she got a chance. That chance was a while away as she melted against his caresses and whimpered uncontrollably.

She joyously wondered when she would explode into a million happy pieces when Chuck whispered her name – "Sarah!" – , nothing more, nothing less, that one word, these two syllables, then tenderly moved his lips and tongue over the contours of her ear.

Her left hand shot up and grasped his right arm, firm enough not to lose its grip but soft enough to feel the moves he made that sent her over the edge. And then the candles morphed into sparklers. The room lit up with the spray of gold and white sparks for that most intense of all times.

When the candles flickered again as candles flicker, she shuddered mightily but knew she had not had enough.

Miracles happen every minute.

"Squeaky clean," she said again. "That was a nice rub, but there's more to wash," she went boisterous but regretted it immediately.

What if he objected to the word 'nice' as belittling, thought that he had been merely adequate but not enough for her? They had taken such giant steps together since Thursday that they simply leaped over some insecurities of the first stage of a relationship.

Does he find my body alluring? Am I slender and sexy in his eyes, or does he think I am too boney or too fat? Is my stomach OK for him, sporty flat or too muscular? Are my breasts too small or too large? Does he like them as they are? Is he insecure if he is too small? Does he wonder if his chest and shoulders aren't broad enough for my taste? Is he afraid I would like clear-cut, super-macho features more than his friendly face? Does he-

Sarah stopped her musings as she realized that none of it mattered. They had skipped all these questions because those questions didn't apply to them. Her panic attack, in hindsight, proved to be a blessing in disguise. Already destined to be each other's sweetheart for a year, he yearning for, she fighting against it, the drama of her life had bonded them together like no regular infatuation and romance could do. Within a night that had been a challenge for both of them, they developed an understanding of and for each other that other couples needed years to achieve.

Oh yes, it is superb that Chuck has those sexy curls, those deep brown eyes, these caring and exciting hands, that he is one of the few men tall enough, so I have to look up to him. It's thrilling, vice versa, that he can't stop looking in my eyes, that I see his appreciation that I am built like his dream lover from head to toe.

But they had peered into each other's soul and built the foundation on that level, adding everything else on top of it instead of trying to find out after a hot night if there was a chance for more than a one-night-stand or a fuck buddy relation.

Not that she had any problems with the fact that most of her thoughts circled the sizzling adult games they had played and would play as often as they would find the time – if she had her say on that matter.

Speaking of that.

Sarah tried to grind against his hand, but he backed away. "Hey," she complained for real this time, "give the lady what she wants!"

"And what does my lady want now?" he asked, featuring the most audacious grin.

Don't tarry. I want it. You can deliver it. Chuck, sex, and Rock 'n' Roll. Or so.

She made shamelessly clear what she wanted.

"That was heavenly, Chuck, but you washed me only on the outside."

"Fine," he said so cooly as if he entertained a different girl every night, and they queued up for his magic touch. "But we should get you out of here before you become all wrinkled."

Sarah thought about protesting for a second but then gave in. Everything he had done was perfect. Why would he stop being perfect now?

He helped her out of the Jacuzzi and then began to towel her down with a sensuality that kept her on her toes.

"You're sure you don't want to take a nap?" he asked.

God, that sounds nice, she thought and let her head rest on his chest and closed her eyes while he rubbed down her back. He certainly was teasing now, maintaining a state of arousal that was only a few steps away from bliss. She opened her eyes, looked down, and grinned.

At least I'm not the only one who can't decide if I'm too horny or too whacked.

She closed her eyes again, put a hand around his nape, and enjoyed how he made a little ceremony out of drying her.

"Ok, all dry!" he declared much too soon, and when he wanted to step back, she kept on holding him with one hand.

"Time to un-dry me again," she whispered and saw that it took him a moment to understand. She felt wickedly brazen - and unabashedly greedy for the feelings he provided.

Feelings! What euphemism! I am hornier than I ever knew myself. Can I tell him my secret fantasies? Oh, pretty please! The things I like, the things I dislike, the things I want to try with him?

"We're insatiable, aren't we?" Chuck's voice brought her back to reality. "Too tired to stand on your own two feet but not able to stop till you drop, right?"

"Mmmh-hm-hm", Sarah giggled affirmatively. She had never been pampered like this before, and even if Chuck needed to call in the medics with an oxygen tent later, she would explore her love and lust until total exhaustion. She trusted in the talented Mr. Bartowski to fulfill her dreams. He had done so yesterday, and it seemed she hadn't seen anything yet. She had never believed in the mystery of life-altering sex, but there it was, right at her hands. Or, currently, his capable hands, as she felt lifted up and immediately laid down again.

She realized she lay on the massage table, and that strong arm and its hand returned to where she had immersed herself in pleasure only a few moments ago. Through a fog of lust, she saw him smile with loving confidence. Sarah loved how they worked on her passion together. Chuck was attentive to her tiniest sound, move or gesture, and reacted immediately to the signals her body sent.

While Sarah still marveled that they were destined for each other, she heard another woman nearby moan in pleasure. Remembering how they had delivered a sinful audio drama to the neighbors in the hotel yesterday, she was relieved that they weren't the only ones who got loud when in heat. She listened to her comrade in passion.

Must be a great lover, she contemplated. That girl is freaking out of control.

Sarah, devoid of the kink to be seen or heard when making love, was still intrigued and the slightest bit sheepish.

Our soundtrack of love must have been similar, heard by quite a couple of hotel guests. What a show indeed. Next time we close that terrace door!

Then the other girl cried out a coherent word.

"Baby, oh, baby!" Sarah heard. While the guttural sound was exciting, she disapproved of the endearment.

Now don't get corny, my child, she thought. Have a bit more self-respect. You are grown-ups and no babies.

Then a few pleasantly surprised 'Ah's' and 'Oh's' that seemed to stem from being touched at a very sensual point were followed by a scream of pleasure that told her that the other girl was nearing the point of no return.

Sarah felt pretty libidinous by thinking that, while not knowing anything else of each other but their sounds, she and the other girl could possibly reach the summit together. Her unknown companion in passion seemed to go over the top any moment now.

"Yes, baby, don't stop now…" Sarah understood the other girl clearly again, "Oh, Chuck, I love you!"

The moment she understood that she listened to her own sounds of pleasure, those darn candles exploded into Fourth of July fireworks, blinding out everything else but her joy.

•••••••••••••••••••

Sarah gazed at the candles. They should be burnt down to stumps from the heat and fire she had experienced only a few minutes ago. But they peacefully flickered as they did before he had laid her on that massage table. She turned to Chuck with glassy, satisfied eyes.

"Was I very embarrassing?"

"Embarrassing? The wonder of your joy? Sarah…" he trailed off.

"See what I mean?" she taunted. "You don't know what to say!"

"Sarah, it's beyond my abilities to describe the pleasure I have pleasuring you. As long as you enjoy yourself, the world's perfect for me."

That's sweet, and hold that thought forever, but still, I want to please you too.

"That's a bit too selfless for me, you dork. What about me giving you pleasure?"

She stretched and whimpered.

"And can you help me uncurl my toes? It's your fault if I'll never be able to walk normally again."

"Who's the dork now?" he taunted and added, "Of course, it's mutual. I'm not that selfless to deny your touch."

"Very good," she said. "Now get us out of this bathroom of sin and into our bed of sin, and I will touch you in a way that you completely forget about selfnessless… selflessnesm… selfieleslie...gah…"

She blinked and stared inquiringly at Chuck as if he could explain why she began to mix up words although she knew inside what was happening.

She was way past a most challenging 24-hour-marathon and had been already exhausted when Chuck had lowered her into the bath. She had given in to her desires, requesting that his hand cooled the fire between her legs, which he did as ordered in his particular way of handling all things Sarah Walker. Add to that finally something to eat, a few shots of vodka, a most romantic setting, and a lavender-scented bath, and she finally had no defenses against her tired body anymore.

"I mean…" she began slowly, "that I called you 'baby'. I'm sorry if-"

"That was the sweetest thing you called out. That worries you?"

"Shouldn't it? I'm not so corny."

"Well, Sarah, I'm the nerd, and resistance is futile."

"Ha! You think I'm dumb, but I know where you stole that one," she retorted. "But it's true the other way 'round too – let's go to bed and..."

She leaned her head on his shoulder.

"And…?" he asked after a minute.

"And what?"

"You said, 'let's go to bed and...' and that was it. Was there anything else you wanted to say?"

She wondered about him but also remembered the words Carina told him.

"And I'm gonna bleep your brains out."

"When will that happen?"

"Right now, as soon as we're in our bed."

"As soon as we're in our bed, you'll be sleeping."

"As soon as we're in our bed, I'll ravish you. I have a reputation to earn," Sarah told him.

"What kind of reputation?"

"That was twice so far," she sighed, raising two fingers, "and mind-blowingly good. But," she reminded him, "multiple starts at three times, right?"

"Is that a dare?" he grinned.

"Yeah, a double-dare. Or better, triple dare."

"You bring out the caveman in me," he proclaimed and followed up with a few 'ugh, ugh' sounds. She squealed as much as her tired body could produce as he bent down, laid her over his shoulder, and carried her to the bed, softly laying her down, and she thought she would instantly doze away.

Then she stopped thinking altogether as he dragged her body down toward the foot end of the bed. Chuck knelt in front of it, and she registered that he gave her the Bartowski eyebrow dance.

"You were asking for catchy terms earlier. How about DATY?"

"What does that mean now?"

"Time for my dessert," he announced, and his look made her shiver.

"What dessert?" she asked naively, and as it dawned on her, he grinned and casually remarked, "DATY - dining at the Y," and made himself comfortable as he took care so thoroughly of her triple-dare that she heard the angels sing, and she could have sworn that there were no such things as angels.

•••••••••••••••••••

Sarah had been wrecked and uneasy when she came back from the ballroom. Now she was utterly exhausted and deliriously blissful, an almost metaphysical bundle of giddy happiness, sated desire, eternal love, and soothing effeteness.

She rubbed her toes together to check if she still was alive or if she had dissolved in her emotions and only had left a sizable pool of felicity on the linen. She was alive, she found, and though hardly able to lift her head, determined.

"Come up here, come up," Sarah ordered, and he laid beside her in a swift motion. She blinked how his curls suddenly were next to her face.

"If you thought… we… made... love yesterday…" she began slowly and trailed off.

"I thought we made love," Chuck said with a querying tone as she did not proceed because - she dozed off.

"What? … Oh, yes!" she startled, or at least she thought so. She didn't move an inch. "If you think that… you haven't seen anything... yet. I'm going to…"

This time there was amusement in his voice as she simply trailed off into silence, and he realized she fell asleep while talking for the second time.

"You're gonna what?" he asked as he tried to control his laugh.

"…make love to you… like a … buckin' bronco!" she eventually finished after a lengthy delay, first raising her head and then sinking back again, her mumbling voice not reminding of anything anywhere near a bronco, much less than bucking.

"Ah, yes, you said that before," Chuck mused with a dreamy voice. Sarah sensed he didn't take her seriously.

"You… are going to…" she began another sentence which she didn't finish because slumber overtook her again, trying to send him a stern look but deciding against it as it would have meant to turn her head to him, which was out of the question.

His amusement was unmistakable, and she got a little miffed about it.

"I don't know if I'll ever see this bronco," he teased her.

He will beg me for forgiveness once I am done with him. But… first… Walker, get yourself together.

She weakly raised a leg as heavy as the moon out there on the night sky and placed it over his, put a hand on his chest, and seemed to try to push herself up and onto him.

You're pathetic, Walker. Your triple dare has not only finished you off three times but finished you off for good for tonight.

"Help me," she groaned and would have giggled if her pride and would have shaken her head in disbelief if her strength had allowed it.

"What?" he asked incredulously, not believing what she said.

See, your girlfriend is ready, willing, and… hm… able? Will you help me to make love to you now, or won't you?

"Help me up," she muttered, and in reference to the bronco, "up in the saddle of love."

Chuck began to laugh. She admitted to herself that her plea was not in accordance with her status as a goddess.

You are going to so regret this once I am well-rested.

"Sarah," he said, not keeping the giggle out of his words, "you are done," he teased her, "It's no shame to confess that."

Ok, ok, ok! Will you stop rubbing it in! Rubbing, oh. Damn, no sex then, but I can't let poor Chuckie sleep in his condition all night. I'm a good girlfriend, I don't let him suffer. Not much.

"I'm sorry you see me that way," she purled honestly ashamed, "but I'll take care of you nonetheless, … let me lend a hand."

Wouldn't it be nice to rest my head, only exercise my hand a bit and have a front-row seat to the show?

She laid her head on his chest and looked down as she grabbed him where he was most sensitive, and it was not his curls.

"Must be… the worst case of the blue balls since the Big Bang," she diagnosed after looking at it with her best good doctor look. "And all because… I'm too tired to bang you-" she made a pause to let him catch her wordplay about Big Bang and banging and waited expectantly for a cackle that dutifully came "-but watch… what happens now," she slurred. He laughed wholeheartedly, not believing one single word about anything happening, which once more hurt her pride just a little bit.

"Now, I'm gonna take good care of you," she murmured – and dozed away for good.

Chuck looked at the situation and knew it would take him a while longer to fall asleep. He had a notion that life with Sarah Walker would be sweet, sexy – and unpredictable.

No frisky B-movie comedy could devise something like that, he mused and removed her hand away from his middle, which she only acknowledged with a content snore.

He gently pulled her up to the pillows. She opened half of her left eye, sleepily watching him, trying to understand what he did. He placed a pillow under her head and covered her with the blanket. She nodded approvingly, and since her left eyelid got too heavy, she opened half of her right instead, following as he slipped under the blanket as well.

God, it is terrific to be pampered like this, she thought. Now I can understand why guys fall in a coma after. It's heavenly. And I'm in a triple-coma.

"Sarah can sleep peacefully now," he said with the smallest of tease in his voice that she didn't register anymore. At the same time, she instinctively snuggled against him, needing his help to find her favorite sleeping position. Their naked forms intertwined, he kissed her forehead and whispered, "Good night, Sarah, I love you."

She sleep-mumbled against his skin, drowsily, relaxed, and happy.

"I love you too, Chuckie."

•••••••••••••••••••

A/N (2) I hope everyone agrees that we let them sleep. It would be embarrassing if they sleep away the story's finale, which, I have to tell you, is nearing rapidly.

A/N (3) That said, when writing much-appreciated reviews, please do in silence. We don't want to wake them up.