The Trapped Assassin

By SarahsSupplyCloset

Author's Note: Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed and sent me lots of messages asking about the story. I had a major technology crash and it set me back quite a bit. I had no Internet and no laptop for awhile. Rest assured, I'm back. So is The Trapped Assassin. And I'm back with a vengeance. You'll see why.

Thanks to anyone who is still here reading.

Disclaimer: I do not own CHUCK. I'm not making any money from this.

Lying around staring at the ceiling had done nothing to solve Agent Walker's current issues.

Tugging her laptop out and watching videos on YouTube hadn't helped, either.

And so she'd climbed out of bed eventually, in the late morning, set aside her laptop, and threw on some jeans, sneakers, and a pullover sweater since the air was a little cooler when she stepped out on her balcony.

The rental place near her hotel had a nice little sky blue colored bicycle waiting for her and she promptly ventured into the city.

For once, she hadn't thought to invite Chuck.

Because Langston Graham's words from the phone call the night before were circulating in her head. They'd only stopped long enough for her to get a few hours of sleep.

How was she supposed to make this kind of decision in three days when she'd never had to make any decisions like this before?

Back when she was first pulled into the CIA, Graham had verbally told her she had a choice. But it was no choice. Any scared nearly-17-year-old would have made the decision she'd made a decade ago. She'd had no choice there. Live or die? Not a hard decision.

Her path had taken her into some trees and the path had become a little more gravelly after that, so she'd had to focus more on not crashing, but it smoothed out again and she slowed her pace, meandering through the less populated streets. Anybody else might've gotten lost by now, but Sarah didn't get lost. Ever. There were maps in her head. She always knew where she was.

She had to.

She'd learned the hard way when she was 18 and still training at the Farm.

They'd kidnapped her from her bunk in the middle of the night with a hood over her head and drove her into the wilderness where they left her to fend for herself. It took her two days to get out. And another day and a half to get back to the Farm. After that, she'd studied maps, survivalist methods, and anything else that might prepare her in case they tried to do it again.

She knew better now.

She knew the streets and alleyways of Nice. She knew where she was at all times. And while it was a handy life skill, she wished it wasn't necessary. Along with a lot of other things. Like always being 100 percent aware of her surroundings, the people around her, places where she could duck and cover in case bullets went flying.

For every mile she rode, there were dozens of people whose faces she'd seen, whose faces were now stuck in her head so that if she saw them again, she'd recognize them. It was a skill that kept her alive more times then not in her ten year career as a CIA assassin. Recognizing a face meant getting the jump on them, putting a bullet through their forehead before they even got their gun all the way out of its holster. She was never wrong, either.

"You don't know anything but what I've given you. This existence," Graham had said. In some ways he was right. Who was she kidding? He was completely right. But he was wrong about how well he knew her. He obviously didn't know her as well as he thought, because this decision was proving a lot harder than he could've possibly predicted. And maybe she didn't know anything outside of the CIA, the life she lived with danger and adrenaline, carrying out orders, and afterwards waiting for more orders. But she was learning.

They'd called her a fast learner at the Farm, and she was certainly learning fast now.

For instance, she'd learned what her real laugh sounds like. She'd learned how to appreciate Nice for its air of romance. And how sweet strawberries tasted on someone else's lips. Champagne, too.

She'd learned how to enjoy.

She didn't know what the catalyst was, when her enjoyment of the little things really started, but she knew it was before she was even given Roland Taft's dossier. Months before. Maybe even longer.

And now, whether they had done it on purpose or not, Graham and his superiors had given the CIA's Wildcard Enforcer the chance to learn how sweet life was outside of the CIA bubble. She'd gotten a chance to experience life the way normal people do, the way regular girls do. And she'd had the opportunity to spend time with a regular guy. Well, an extraordinary guy, honestly. But he had nothing to do with the government.

And that was the first time she really thought about Chuck for hours. It was a little encouraging, knowing she'd gone that long without thinking about his eyes, the way his laugh made her chest constrict, the feeling of his fingers digging into her hips as she sat astride him, his breathy whimper of her name so close to her ear.

Sarah shook her head, forcing herself to focus on getting back to her hotel in one piece. That was a thought she really shouldn't think while riding a bike through a large group of people. She'd already killed one person in Nice—well, maybe more than one considering she blew up a yacht last week—and that was enough.

If she could go this long without thinking of the man she'd spent more time with than she had without in this past week, it meant he wasn't the only factor in her decision. She couldn't let a man be what swayed her decision. There had to be more to it. Because that man—as much as she liked him, as much as she liked being with him—was not going to be around forever. Chuck Bartowski wasn't a guarantee. She couldn't quit the CIA for him.

But she might quit for everything else.

Like enjoying sunsets without looking over her shoulder. And not adding to the already numerous nightmares about the people who'd died by her hand. Having an apartment where she could keep actual things without fearing someone might break in and find information about her real identity, or find her Achilles' heel.

It would be worth it if she could live a life free of all of this stress, if she could retire her rifles and never have to look through the scope of one again.

But what kept putting a snag in the decision was just how much she knew she didn't deserve it.

When people who didn't have CIA credentials murdered another person, they went to prison. The so-called Ice Queen was simply given another file, with another dossier—another mission that would end up with another person dead. Or people, depending on who got in her way.

What if she quit the CIA and she was already too far gone? What if she was "too deep" as Graham had phrased it? She'd be stuck outside of the CIA, outside of what had been her home of sorts for ten years of her life. And she'd have no purpose. What if she started killing to feed the urge? Like a serial killer. As Sarah pulled up to the rental stall hours and hours after she first rented the sky blue bicycle, she realized she was being melodramatic. She wasn't addicted to killing. She'd never been addicted to killing and she never would be. She didn't have an itchy trigger finger.

But it was the only thing she was good at.

How does one make a career of killing into a career of…accounting? Or real estate? Or nursing? Or anything else that normal people did for work?

She strolled up the road towards the hotel and she thought of Chuck again. He was probably up there somewhere, completely unaware of her struggle, unaware of the massive decision she had to make in a few days, unaware of the fact that he was playing a part in it.

Sure, he wasn't what would ultimately sway her either way, she knew. She wasn't the type to let a silly romance dictate the direction of her life. But she was fooling herself if she didn't admit that he'd gotten himself deep under her skin. Graham told her she'd gotten too deep with the CIA. There was no way she could build a life outside of that.

But she thought maybe she'd allowed herself to get too deep with Chuck as well. The difference was that while she didn't want to be too deep in the darkness of the life of an assassin, she didn't much care how deep she was with Chuck Bartowski. He was a lot safer, for one.

Though there was always the part about her leaving. And how that would affect him.

Who was she kidding? It was going to affect her, too. Whether she left for the CIA, or left for a new life, it was going to feel awful. She was in the thick of it, wasn't she?

And as she slid into the shower, letting the lukewarm jet of water beat against her sore limbs from her hours long bike ride, she let herself dream about what it might be like to let herself fall even deeper into him.

The shower was her safe space, after all. It was where she let her guard down. She let herself dream here, and think about all of the 'what might have beens' and 'what ifs'.

She could imagine herself snuggling into Chuck's side on a couch—his couch in LA—and as the sun set, they'd start some movie he never stopped talking about. He'd commentate through the whole thing, and even annoy her a little. And she'd have to shut him up by kissing him. But that plan would backfire completely because she'd miss the rest of the movie while they made out. Better yet, he might carry her into his bedroom where she'd promptly turn his world on its head.

Maybe she would show up at his work and bring him lunch. Or he'd show up where she worked to pick her up after her shift was over or whatever it was she happened to do for a job, and he'd take her to dinner. They'd go dancing. They'd blend into the crowd on the dance floor. A regular couple having fun in a larger group of people having fun. Just two people in the world.

Maybe they'd take a long weekend drive up the coast, hole up in some cozy beachside town like Cambria. They'd walk up and down the beach together, cook in the little house they'd rent's kitchen, play a card game game at the table by the window that overlooked the Pacific Ocean…And Sarah would let her competitive spirit get the best of her after he won. They'd wrestle…She'd laugh so hard her side hurt. And she'd open her eyes again to find that he'd carried her to the couch—no, into the bedroom actually. They would spend all night and into the next day exploring one another's bodies, opening their hearts…

The assassin could picture how wild and free she'd be on vacation with Chuck Bartowski. Without the shackles of the CIA around her ankles.

And when she thought hard enough, she could picture how wild and free she'd be with him in general. Just living life.

She continued let herself imagine as she took an extra long shower.

Getting stuck in legendary LA traffic together. She'd be frustrated, upset because they'd be late for…a party or something. And he'd say, "Welcome to Los Angeles, baby." Then he'd turn on music and sing or dance and make her laugh. And she'd start to sing and dance, too.

By the time Sarah got out of the shower, she was smiling.

But the smile dimmed as the cool air of her bedroom hit her the moment she stepped out of the steamy bathroom. She was foolish to think about those things. No matter what happened on Monday, no matter what decision she made, Chuck Bartowski was no guarantee. Happiness was no guarantee.

She started getting stir crazy as she sat alone on her balcony, the sun slowly arching towards the west over her head.

The assassin loved having control.

But this kind of control wasn't the kind of control she needed.

It wasn't like the control she had during missions. She took lead during missions, always making sure she had the upper hand. It was where she operated best.

Now she had control over the rest of her life. She'd never had to deal with a decision like this. This was too much control. So much control over her own life that she didn't even know what to do with it. She was aware enough to know just how horribly dysfunctional that was. The CIA had trained her in a way that hadn't allowed her to control the trajectory of her own life, and now ten years later they were handing her a choice on a silver platter. A choice to leave them behind, to leave all of this behind.

Sarah left her suite and disappeared into Nice again, hurrying to the promenade, and finally being able to take a long, deep breath.

She needed something that she couldn't control. Right now.

Nature.

The breeze blowing her hair about her face. The waves beating against the rocks beneath her.

She walked along the promenade, watching people not to protect herself from them, but to simply observe. Even the man who looked forlorn, lost almost as he sat on the bench she passed by, was feeling something. Sadness, most likely. Maybe he'd had his heart broken. Even an emotion as painful as that seemed a blessing compared to the outright numbness Sarah'd felt here and there over the years. At her lowest points.

She sought solace from her melancholy in the glowing orb of the sun slipping lower and lower. That was something she'd never have control over. Nobody would ever tell her to decide whether or not the sun should set, or whether the moon should conduct the tide.

Before she knew what was happening, her phone was up against her ear. She needed distraction.

"Hello?"

"Hi," she said, her nerves and anxiety that had been roiling in her gut settling immediately as relief flooded through her. She didn't recognize her decision to call him for what it was—she was seeking comfort, not distraction. And Chuck could comfort her like nothing else in the world. Something deep inside of her knew that, but it wasn't loud enough for the rest of her to hear.

"Have you eaten?" she asked.

"No, no I have not. Have you?"

"No."

"You should do that."

She laughed and leaned forward, putting her elbows on the railing. "You want to meet me to watch the rest of the sunset? I have the perfect place in mind. We can eat after."

Sarah heard rustling on the other end of the phone.

"Just getting my shoes on. Where you want me?"

Everywhere, a naughty voice inside of her head said. She bit her lip and rolled her eyes at the naughty voice.

"Walk out to the promenade, turn right, and follow it until you see me. I'm wearing a brown dress."

He chuckled. "That's pretty cute, you telling me what you're wearing. Like you won't stand out no matter who's around you."

"Shut up," she said warmly.

"I mean, it's really adorable when extremely beautiful people don't realize how much they stand out amongst us regular looking people."

"I'm going to sock you when you get over here, just so you know."

"I can't wait. Be there soon."

"Hurry. You only have 40 minutes until sunset."

He gasped dramatically and she hung up on him, giggling even as she hung up the phone. She pushed any further thoughts about control and decisions and choices out of her head and enjoyed the breeze on her face, before she started her leisurely stroll back to the steps she'd found when she first got to Nice.

25 minutes later, as she stood next to the steps in question, a feeling that was the opposite of loneliness came over her. She glanced over to see Chuck in the distance, strolling along, fixing the collar of his jacket with one hand as he looked out to sea, a bag clutched in his other hand.

He looked like he might say something as he approached, but she cut him off by grabbing his hand and pulling him to the staircase that led down to the beach. They moved far enough down to where people passing by on the promenade wouldn't see them, but high enough that they'd see the sun setting.

She sat down first and he joined her, scooting in close, grinning out at the sun, his face and teeth glinting in the reddish orange light.

"So what's in that bag of yours?" she asked, reaching over to poke it.

"Ah, yes. I thought you might like this native delicacy." He opened the bag and pulled it out, offering it to her. "Beignet?"

She stared at the fried hunk of twisted dough doused in powdered sugar and immediately started salivating. "Wait, just one?"

"Ha! When you buy beignets, you don't just buy one, Sarah. Come on." He tilted the bag for her to look inside. "These are small, too, so I got four each."

Sarah bit her lip and ran her eyes down his body, sliding them back up to meet his gaze slowly. "Mmm. What a guy you are, Chuck Bartowski."

He chuckled and took one out for himself.

As they silently watched the sun sink lower and lower, munching on their beignets, Sarah tilted into Chuck's side and nuzzled his shoulder with her cheek. It felt so good sitting here, watching the uncontrollable sunset, feeling the uncontrollable breeze against her face… And for the first time today, she felt comfortable. She felt like she didn't have to decide anything. She didn't have to choose. She could just be here with Chuck's hand casually resting on her thigh, tilting the bag towards her to offer her another beignet.

"I had my four."

He gasped dramatically and snatched the bag back from her. Then he chuckled. "I wasn't actually counting, so good thing you were." He dug into the bag and nabbed the last beignet, shoving the full thing into his mouth with an om nomm nomm sound.

She laughed and leaned away from him as he chewed almost painfully, still trying to shove it all the way in his mouth. It took him awhile to eat the whole thing, nearly choking on powdered sugar in the meantime as she thumped him on the back. And when he swallowed, licking his lips, she giggled and leaned back into him.

As the sun finally dipped behind the sea to the west, the air around them felt cooler, the breeze a little harsher. She shivered even with the cotton sweater she wore over her dress and with his arm curled around her, pulling her in close.

"This is a nice spot to watch the sunset," Chuck said, stretching his legs out more and getting comfortable, which meant shifting her to lean more against his chest apparently. If that was how he got comfortable, she wasn't complaining. He was nice and warm.

"You like it?"

"Mhm. I particularly like that it's both in plain sight and out of it at the same time." She craned her neck to look back at him curiously. "Well, I mean we're in public here. But nobody can see us unless they're standing right at the top of the staircase or down on the beach. Nobody's down on the beach, and nobody's standing up there, so it's like we're alone."

Sarah smirked a little and turned her body to face him better, wrapping her arm around his neck and leaning all of her weight against his chest. "Probably the most alone we can get while out in public." She gently pressed her lips to his jaw, then slowly dotted kisses that followed his jaw bone, stopping when she got to his ear.

She squeaked in surprise when he gave her a quick yank, causing her to fall into his lap, her hands grasping his shoulders for balance. "I thought nerds were supposed to be shy, timid things…" she giggled with a teasing glint in her eye.

Chuck merely answered her with a sardonic look. "We have a way of coming alive when we're alone with certain women."

"Certain women? Why, what could you mean by that?" She put a hand on her chest, a faux offended look on her face.

That made him chuckle and he hugged her to his chest. Grinning, she squeezed him tight with her arms around his shoulders and placed her cheek over his heart, glancing out at the sky where the sun had just disappeared. "God, it's almost more beautiful after the sun is gone, isn't it?" she breathed, taking in the uneven streaks of stunning, deep oranges and reds dotted with clouds here and there.

She felt his chest bounce against her cheek. "What?" she asked, pushing herself away just enough to look up at him.

"Almost said something super corny."

"What'd you almost say?" She propped her elbows on his shoulders and tilted her head with a smirk.

"Well, I didn't work out the exact wording, but it was going to be something about that," he nodded his head towards the sky over her shoulder, "and how it doesn't hold a candle to your beauty." He made a face. "Pretty bad, right?"

"I mean, it's not great."

"Thanks," he drawled, giving her a flat look.

She laughed and slid her hands over his ribcage, around to his back, and slowly pushed her chest into his, grinding their bodies together. "Corny or not, it's a nice sentiment," she said quietly, her voice crackling with just how good it felt to be pressed against him like this.

Chuck only had to tilt his chin up to kiss her, and as their lips met, Sarah felt something else crackling, flames licking at her feet, slowly crawling up her long legs and settling in her lower stomach.

With a graceful shift of her body, she was straddling him, kissing him sensually, keeping one arm wrapped tightly around his torso, and moving her other hand to cup his neck gently.

The crackling flames licked even harder inside of her when his warm hand settled on her knee and slowly dragged under the hem of her dress, sliding so far up her thigh that she felt his fingers teased the waistband of her panties. She pulled out of the kiss, pecking his lips for good measure, rubbing her nose against his, grinning. He dove in and started kissing her jaw slowly, squeezing her thigh so that her eyelids fluttered.

"Remember how I asked you to dinner?" she asked breathlessly. He made a soft hum of acknowledgment and tightened his arm around her. "Those beignets destroyed my appetite."

Chuck laughed and pulled back. "And you tried to eat another one, too."

"I didn't. You offered me another one. I told you it was yours."

"Oh, yeah," he chuckled. And then he moved in again to tease her collarbone with his teeth, his tongue flicking out to lave the gentle bites. "I'm not all that hungry, either, but it might've been the 4 meals I ate today. Not counting the beignets." He sucked on her skin over her pulse point and she just barely withheld a moan.

Instead she turned her face and kissed him slowly, with a good amount of heat, letting him taste her tongue for a moment, before gently pulling back again. She spoke with her lips brushing over his. "I might have a way we can get our appetites back, Chuck…"

She bit her lip suggestively and she felt his body shiver pleasurably beneath hers.

"Back to the hotel?" he asked in a rushed breath.

"Let's go."

"Yep."

—

"Keep going, Chuck…"

"I'm trying. You're just a lot for a guy to handle."

She let out a breathless sigh of amusement and grabbed his shoulder, urging him on. "Come on. You got this…"

He groaned, his breath coming in quick puffs.

"Keep pushing…"

"Oh God…"

"Almost there…almost!"

Sarah's legs were aching but she kept going, kept encouraging him. They were so close…

"So close…so…Yes!" she cried out.

She watched as he collapsed to his knees in the sand, hunching over in exhaustion, and she threw her fists in the air in celebration, jogging in place. "Woo! See? Didn't I say you could do it? 2 and a half miles."

"You know…" He took a deep, painful-sounding breath in and let it out again slowly, a bead of sweat dripping from his hairline down the back of his neck and running into his t-shirt. "This was not what I had in mind when you said you had a way we could…get our appetites back," he panted.

"It isn't?" she asked innocently. She stopped jogging in place when he flopped to the side and laid there limply, almost like someone had cut the strings holding him up. "No, no…" She went to his side and forced him back up to his feet, helping him swat the sand off of his sweaty body. "You can't run that much and then stop moving. It will make your heart do bad things. You have to cool down."

"Cool down. Talk about..cool down," he wheezed, sending her a teasing glare. "You…gave me…quite the cool down…back…at…the hotel."

She giggled and patted his chest, gesturing for him to follow her again, jogging at a much lighter pace than before. She'd had them turn back awhile ago, knowing Chuck would never agree to 2 miles out and 2 miles back.

She wasn't going to trick him into it, either. That wasn't her style.

Though she really had given him a bit of a cool down.

They'd gotten back to the hotel quickly, practically speed-walking back along the promenade, holding hands. And once they got into the hotel lobby, they slid into the elevator. She'd nearly smirked when she pressed the button to her floor and he didn't make any kind of move to press the button to his own floor. And when the doors opened, he made like he was going to follow her to his room but she put a hand on his chest. "Meet you at the pool in 15. A good run will get us our appetites back."

She'd left him there, gaping after her. But she knew he'd enjoyed the game, because he was there waiting for her at the pool 15 minutes later when she came down, a look of fake disdain heavily dosed with amusement on his handsome features.

Chuck caught up to her now and kept pace for a few minutes.

"You know, women who tease like that usually get their comeuppance. Eventually," he teased, breaking the silence.

"Do they?"

"Yeah. They do. So you better be careful."

She ran ahead and turned to face him, jogging backwards, smirking and tilting her head. "And what exactly does comeuppance entail?"

"Keep teasing and you'll find out."

"You threatenin' me, nerd?"

"What if I am?"

She tilted an eyebrow. "Wow. Feeling pretty cheeky, aren't we?"

His shrug was one part nonchalance, one part confidence. And it was a little unsettling how sexy she found it.

"Although I'd have to be able to catch you before I could punish you."

Her sneakers brushed against the top of an old, washed away sand castle and she nearly toppled onto her ass. Sarah caught herself just in time, but they both halted anyway, and she peered at him with slightly wide eyes. Did he just say 'punish'? Because it sounded like he'd just said 'punish'.

"Not an easy feat at all," he continued, obviously unaware of how what he'd just said affected his companion. "You can run circles around me." She furrowed her brow, about to deny it. "Don't try to pretend you wouldn't run this route three times faster if I wasn't here."

"You aren't being fair to yourself, Chuck—"

"You're being kind," he said with a good-natured laugh. "I'm not ashamed. You're legit too fit to quit. You'd probably even smoke Captain Awesome."

There was something so disarmingly sexy about how genuinely unbothered he was by the fact that she was fitter than he was. There was none of the bruised ego she'd experienced from some of the male agents she'd sparred with at the Farm. Men with sex on the brain when they challenged her to a sparring match usually ended up flat on their backs with her shoe pressing down on their crotch. A blatant threat from her. They'd typically left the scene pissed or embarrassed.

And here was Chuck, impressed by her instead of emasculated or intimidated. In all fairness, he had no reason to be intimidated, considering he knew nothing of her career with the CIA. He didn't know about the weapon cases stashed behind the ironing board in the closet of her suite.

"I could always run and we can find out," she quipped, her words dripping from her lips like honey.

But he had her wrist in his hand, his grip tight but gentle at the same time. "You'd have to escape first."

"And if I don't escape? If I stay right here instead?" She sidled up close. "Do I get my comeuppance?"

"Try me."

She snaked a hand around him without him noticing and pinched him through his basketball shorts. He jumped with a wince and his jaw fell open as she broke his grip and ran.

"Hey!"

Sarah laughed like a maniac as she glanced at him over her shoulder. He sprinted after her, and he was surprisingly fast. Though, he really did have long legs, and she'd come to know their strength rather intimately in the past week.

Her survival instincts kicked in as adrenaline coursed through her, and she dodged to the side blindly, feeling his hand miss as he tried to make a grab for her, his fingers brushing against her hip harmlessly.

"Ninja!" he yelled out, and she threw her head back in laughter, turning on her heels and watching him with a massive grin as he bent his knees a little, making to spring for her.

She dodged him easily again, squealing breathlessly.

And then he narrowed his eyes at something over her shoulder. Her spy instincts kicked in, and even as she turned to see what he was looking at, she knew she'd been duped. But she was still too late to stop herself, and he had both hands clamped around her forearm.

"No!" she yelled, trying to tug herself out of his grip. They struggled, their voices ringing out over the empty beach, their laughter mingling.

She planted a hand on his chest and gave him a hard push, yanking back, but her foot caught on that damned sand castle bump again, and this time she toppled backwards.

"Ha!" Chuck cried out in triumph, quickly crawling over to straddle her, pinning her hands to the sand. "That, my lady, is Mr. Poseidon helping a brother out."

Sarah laughed hard, wriggling underneath him. She knew an easy, quick way to get out of this situation, but she was biding her time, playing along.

She arched her body up into his crotch, feeling his purely male anatomy against her for a long moment before she eased back down to the sand. She heard him grumble in pleasure and bit back a gratified smirk.

"S'that so?" she asked. And with a quick move, she brought one leg up to wrap around his front, throwing her weight into him so that he ended up flat on his back. She swung herself around to straddle him, pinning him with his wrists up by his head in a mimicry of the position he'd had her in a moment before. "Well, I've got the powers of Calypso. You know who she is?"

"I might have an idea."

Sarah yelped in surprise when he got her on her back using his brute strength, his weight pressing her down into the sand. "Ooo. So strong," she teased.

He chuckled and wiggled his hips against hers. "You betcher sexy bottom I'm strong."

She threw her weight to the side with a grunt of effort, but he pushed back so that they ended up on their sides, both of them grappling for control. She pushed her arm against his throat and got him pinned again, her palm flat against his cheek, pressing his head into the sand. "You think I'm sexy?" she panted.

His eyes flashed as she lifted her hand. "You're kidding, right?"

She let him get her onto her back and crawl over her, and just when he thought he had her right where he wanted her, she fought with him again. They rolled over and over in the sand, laughing, grunting, hands grappling. Fingers dug into skin under their clothes, muscles clenching, and the heat was building exponentially between them, even as they grinned and laughed at the game.

Until Chuck finally got Sarah pinned again. "So is this my comeuppance, then?" she asked, unconsciously flicking her gaze down between their bodies where his groin pressed tightly against hers in a way that let her feel a lot of him. Enough of him that she wanted to feel so much more.

"You're seriously obsessed with this whole comeuppance thing," he said, furrowing his brow teasingly.

She craned her neck to look deep into his brown eyes, her own blue eyes flashing. "I don't like a man who promises something he can't deliver," she said through clenched teeth. It was a challenge.

And he took the bait hook line and sinker.

His jaw clenched.

Time stood still for a moment…and then his lips crashed down into hers. The kiss was hard, their tongues meeting, teeth knocking. Chuck's arms pushed between her body and the sand and he held her close, kissing her with the kind of passion people describe in books, the kind of passion she hadn't believed in even a few weeks ago.

She whimpered, flinging her arms around his shoulders and arching her hips up against his. And then she lifted her legs to wrap around his waist, pulling herself as close to him as was physically possible, dragging her hand down the muscle of his back, tucking it under his damp shirt and feeling his hot skin.

He whimpered this time, and then she gasped, throwing her head back as Chuck thrusted slow and hard between her legs. "Oh, Chuck," she whispered.

They were both covered in sand, and neither seemed to care as she turned him onto his back. She rolled to lie on top of him and cupped his face, still kissing him, grinding herself down against his cock under his shorts and boxers.

She felt him hardening as he groaned into her mouth, so she kept doing it, tangling her fingers in his hair, tugging in that way she knew he liked. He groaned louder and she spared just a momentary thought to just how much she liked being right about this man.

Sarah lowered her free hand down and tucked it under his shirt, slowly running her nails over his clenching abdomen muscles. She rocked her hips into him again and he whimpered, closing a hand over her ass and squeezing.

She was caught off guard, giving him the opportunity to pin her into the sand again. And then he held her, burying his face in her neck, as he started thrusting into her in earnest.

"Nng! Chuck!" she let out a breath in awe and clenched her eyes shut, holding him, feeling just how hard he was now. He turned his head and kissed her so sensually she felt she was on fire. A large part of her was ready to twist her fist in his pants and tug them out of the way, do the same with her own, and have him right there on the public beach.

And it was that momentary bit of madness that finally brought her crashing down to Earth.

"Mmm. Nnn-no, Chuck," she pulled her lips from his kiss and took a few calming breaths. It was difficult, considering she felt what she coveted most, so hard and ready between her legs, where she wanted him most. "Chuck, wait," she panted. "We can't. Not here."

"Why not?"

God, his voice was dripping with genuine desperation. She felt absolutely insane, and extremely flattered that she could make a man's voice do that. Chuck Bartowski had no shame. And neither did she.

But they couldn't do this.

"We have to go back. We're almost there. Come on."

Chuck didn't whine. He didn't complain.

Instead, he scrambled up to his feet and reached down to hoist her up in a feat of strength that both impressed her and turned her on even more.

And then as if of one mind, they both sprinted across the sand. It was only 100 yards or so to the stairs that would bring them to the back of their hotel. The French flag flew proudly from a pole that jutted out from the roof of the building, a beacon calling them in.

Though there was another beacon Sarah felt acutely inside of her, telling her they needed to get behind closed doors as soon as possible. He reached the stairs before she did and stepped aside to allow her to go up first. His hand on her back practically set fire to her, spreading glorious tingles all throughout her body, and she let out a breath as she reached the top of the staircase, wondering what in the hell caused that sort of reaction with this man in particular, when she'd never felt anything like this before. Ever. Not with anyone else.

She slowed down significantly as they reached the path that wrapped around the pool area, grabbing Chuck's arm and slowing him down next to her. He gave her a desperate look and she widened her eyes at him, her lips set a flat line.

Chuck got the message, letting out an impatient huff, but nodding. It would look a little obvious if they were to race through the hotel for the elevator. And even though Sarah didn't tend to care what people thought of her, she didn't want to cause a scene. Her existence revolved around blending in, going as unnoticed as possible. Which isn't always easy when you're a tall, statuesque blonde with intense blue eyes.

So they walked as calmly as they could into the elevator. And Sarah wanted so badly to both push Chuck further away and pull him in even closer; she could feel the heat of his body as he walked behind her.

She wanted to laugh, but knew he'd be embarrassed. It was obvious (only to her, she was sure) that he was walking behind her, angled a certain way to keep anyone who passed from noticing his erection.

And when the elevator doors slid shut, she wasn't laughing anymore. No sooner had the doors made that soft sealing sound than Chuck closed the distance between them and kissed her again. She staggered at the intensity of his kiss and her back crashed into the wall of the elevator. She didn't care. All she cared about was kissing him back, giving him whatever she could.

The kissed through the ding, hands under clothes. And she felt the sand on his body, under her fingers. His fingers ground over the sand on her own body, scratching her in a way that was surprisingly scintillating.

And they kept kissing even as the doors slid open with a hiss.

Sarah tilted her head back to look at the open doors, meaning to pull away from him, but his lips latched onto her neck, sucking on the crook of her shoulder.

"Chuck…we're on your floor," she gasped. She thought. That was the button she'd pressed, right?

He kept kissing her, nibbling her skin, his fists twisting so deliciously in her shirt.

"Chuck…the faster we get in your room…"

That did it. He stepped back from her as though she'd burned him, letting out a brusque puff of air through pursed lips, and then he nodded. She grabbed his hand and yanked him into the hallway.

They ran again, tugging one another around corners, past the others rooms and suites, until they ended up at his door.

Chuck dug in the pocket of his shorts and produced his room key. But his hands were shaking enough that it took him a few tries to get the damn thing in the slot.

"Hurry, hurry, hurry," she urged him, practically dancing where she stood in impatience.

The green light flashed and the little mechanic click and beep sounded, and they burst into his suite. Only a sliver of red existed on the horizon outside of the glass doors to Chuck's balcony. It was enough light for them to see where they were going despite not having turned on any lights.

Chuck dragged her halfway to the bedroom before Sarah pulled back. "Wait. We're gonna get sand all over your bed."

"Good point," he said quickly.

Using his momentum from her having given his arm a hard tug, he spun back and crashed into her, kissing her again. Her lips were practically numb from all of the kissing, her face muscles almost aching from it, but she kissed him back with vigor. She didn't know where she was going or what was happening until she felt her back pressed into the door they'd just shut behind them.

Chuck grabbed the hem of her shirt in his fists and tugged it up. He pulled out of the kiss just long enough for them to work together to get her shirt off. And then they came together again.

Something was happening between them, something wild, untamed. She couldn't control herself. She didn't even have the mind to know what it was that she wanted, just that she wanted more. Everything. All of him.

She slid her fingers under the waistbands of her shorts and panties and shoved both down, hurriedly stepping out of them and kicking her shoes and socks off.

His hand found her sex immediately, his fingers sliding against her, stroking her wetness, feeling her desire for himself. She whimpered and shut her eyes tightly, breathing through her nose, reaching up to slam her hand against the door by her head.

"Chuck, please," she begged in a whisper. "Now. Please."

She'd never begged for anything. And here she was, the need she felt for him making her crazy.

Chuck kissed her lips, softly, with a warmth that curled her toes against the cool floor of his suite. His hands rested on her hips as he pulled back. There was a moment's indecision in his amber eyes swirling with purple; she didn't understand why. But then he clenched his jaw and turned her around to face the door.

She was only confused for a moment, and then realization hit her and absolute fire roared through her limbs. Only the faintest rustling of clothing moving out of the way could be heard behind her and then Chuck's chest pressed against her back, his shirt bunched between their bodies, and his cock was pressed to her entrance.

With one hand on her lower stomach and the other holding her hip, he thrust himself inside of her, burying his cock with a groan of desire against her hair damp with sweat and probably caked in sand.

"Oh God," she gasped.

He stepped forward and literally pinned her against the door so that she was propped only on the very tips of her toes. And then he began thrusting in earnest, his strangled breaths fluttering at her hair by her ear, soft whimpers of her name making everything feel that much better.

The cool wood of the door against her overheated cheek made her eyelids flutter and she whimpered as Chuck's arm wound around her chest and pulled her back flush against his chest. He bounced himself up into her, his free hand dragging over her thigh desperately,

"Ohh Sarahhh," he groaned. And then he whimpered her name again, going even faster, turning his face to bury himself in her hair.

Sarah dug her fingers into Chuck's wrist as he clutched her to him, and braced her other hand against the wall, crying out in pleasure, feeling his hardness grind against her g-spot as he tugged her down into his quick thrust.

"There!" she gasped out, throwing her head back to rest it on his shoulder. She cursed loudly as he did it again, spots dancing across her vision. "Almost," she panted. "Oh yes! Yes, almost!"

The orgasm that seemed to be building slowly instead crashed over her like an avalanche, making her legs quiver, her toes that were holding her up giving out. But she didn't topple to the floor like she'd feared she might, because Chuck held her up securely in his embrace. As she breathed raggedly, whimpering his name, pressing her forehead to the cold wood with a massive grin of satisfaction on her face, she felt Chuck start to step back. But she held fast, reaching back with both arms to keep him there.

It was a wordless invitation, her desire for him not yet sated, and she could feel how hard he still was inside of her. He rocked into her again, obviously accepting her wordless invitation.

He groaned, tucking his hand under her sports bra and blanketing her breast with his large hand. He massaged her in time with his thrusts, then pinched her nipple between his fingers.

It didn't take long at all for Chuck's body to tense up against hers, and with a breathy whimper of her name in her ear, she felt his warm seed spill inside of her. As she gyrated back into him, she felt his fingers tuck between her legs and start to rub her clit in quick, hard circles.

"Nng! Oh God, Chuck!"

She clenched herself and thrusted into his hand, a second climax spilling over her as he finished emptying himself inside of her.

They stood like that for a little over a minute, and she had a feeling he was just as stunned as she was. His hand on her hip was feeling her, almost as if making sure she was real. It was adorable.

This was insane.

This was amazing.

He finally stepped back from her, hands on her waist as though to make sure she didn't just topple to the ground. She didn't, and as she turned to face him, he finally took his hands away and pulled his boxers and pants back in place.

She was covered in sweat and sand, unbelievably satisfied…and so totally overwhelmed that her head was positively buzzing. Or maybe that was the whole back to back orgasms thing.

What she needed was to put a door between them before she jumped him again. But she didn't want to put too many doors between them, so she shrugged a shoulder cutely and gestured towards his bathroom. "You mind if I use your shower?"

Chuck blinked, took a deep breath, and shook his head. "No. No! I mean, of course not. Please. Please do."

"Thanks. I'm just all dirty." She blushed like an idiot because he turned redder than a tomato. And damn her for being such a dweeb. She just hadn't meant it that way, so when he took it that way, it left her all…discombobulated.

She fled the scene as calmly as possible, got rid of her sports bra, and stepped into his shower, leaving the door shut between them.

Jesus Christ, how did she leave herself so open and vulnerable to this man every damn time? How did she lose control so easily? And how did he manage to exceed any and all of her expectations so consistently?

This was dangerous.

She didn't care.

She should care.

And she let out a soft laugh as she told that voice inside of her to shut the hell up. No man had ever touched her like that. No man had ever taken her like that, either. She'd had rough'n'tumble sex before, the kind of sex that was frenzied, quick, hot. It was good.

But no man had ever…claimed her. And she didn't mean that in a possessive way. He'd just taken over every last one of her senses, disconnected her from everything but him. As stupidly cheesy as it was, he'd rocked her world onto its head and then he'd rocked it back upright again.

It was madness.

And it was glorious.

Thank you, everyone! Stick around. More to come.

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