Author note: This chapter rather got away from me. The rating had to change from T to M. Only read on if you are mature enough to handle it. This is your only real warning. Read on or exit out. Either way, enjoy.

Chuck was giddy. Yes, giddy was the right word, he decided. Sarah had come over. And, like always, she'd thrown a wrench into things. Ah, but what a wrench it was. Instead of crushing him, as she often did, or interrupting something with a national emergency, she came to him, to Chuck, not the Intersect. To tell him what he'd barely dreamed was really true. She loved him.

He loved her, of course. He'd been pretty deeply in love after the first date. And by the time Lou had come along, he'd pretty well resolved himself to always loving her. Always wanting to be with her. But never being able to. Then Sarah had kissed him. Kissed him in a way that left no doubt she meant it. Kissed him good-bye. But they hadn't blown up.

His world had blown up, though. Bryce came back. Bryce, whom he still couldn't bring himself to really hate. Still, Bryce had ruined everything. For a while, anyway. Then, the date and breaking up again. It was almost too much. When Jill came back, she seemed so hollow, so shallow, so boring, compared to Sarah.

He didn't even really care about Jill that much any more. Just … he was so damn horny. His regular masturbation had been ruined by the presence of bugs (and cameras, probably) in his room. It was hard enough with his sister and boyfriend (fiancé, he corrected himself) in the next room. But he'd gotten good at being discrete. Not discrete enough to hide it from Casey, though. And Casey always ribbed him about it the following morning.

With Jill, at least, the teasing would have been good-natured and more easily borne. And she wasn't unattractive. It was better than all the wet dreams caused by Sarah. Better than sleeping alone. Or, worse, the agony of sleeping when Sarah was there – so close but so ineffably far away. Those nights were the worst. Sneaking out to the shower quickly in the morning, so the stains on his shorts wouldn't be too obvious.

He guessed that Sarah knew. She missed almost nothing. But she never teased him about it. Never made him feel like less of a man. No, she always made him feel more like a man. Made him try to be the kind of man she would love – the kind of man she deserved. Not Charles Carmichael, but Chuck Bartowski – Chuck as the best he could be.

And now she loved him. She said it. She'd never said anything like that before. Yeah, she'd dropped hints she was interested. But they were often veiled. Full of two meanings. Meant for ears other than his. Tonight, though, tonight had been different. She'd spoken for him. To him. Just to him. And said words he'd dreamt of for a long time.

Getting rid of Jill had been easy. She left without complaint, save about her safety. There was nowhere to go to hide. But they could worry about Jill and Fulcrum and everything else tomorrow. Tonight, he was alive. As alive as he'd felt in over 6 years, since he'd been kicked out of Stanford. Maybe as alive as he'd ever felt. And if he died tomorrow, or later tonight, it wouldn't be in vain. It would be for something he believed in, believed in with all his heart.

He thought back to Beckman's face and his smile grew even wider. Controlling her had been so easy. It hadn't been a bluff. He knew a lot of ways to do himself in. He'd studied methods extensively a few years back. One time, Ellie had even had his stomach pumped. He hadn't actually taken the pills (they went down the sink), but he'd learned a lot by her reaction to the various medicines he'd dumped.

And life without Sarah – life without a Sarah who loved him and was willing to admit it and act on it – that life wasn't worth living. Life with Sarah, pretending to not be in love? Well, that was a semblance of life. Close enough – like playing a video game. He could continue that way.

But he didn't have to. Not anymore. She was close. So close. So very very close. Closer than when she'd slept in his bed. Maybe not physically, though that was changing as the seconds slipped away. Mere seconds and he would see her again. Mere seconds and they would be together. Really together.

The Nerd Herder skidded to a stop. Chuck leapt out, not caring if he got a ticket or towed. That was not important. He ran into the building, now hating every second he'd wasted on Jill, on Beckman, on Casey, on the drive, on anything but being with Sarah.

He raced to her door and paused. Was this real? Or was he set up for another disappointment? Another disappointment would be the last. He'd not survive another. Was life awaiting behind the door? Or death?

He knocked. It felt weird to actually knock on her door. She was normally so aware of his comings and goings. What was going on tonight? "Go away! I'm not leaving." Sarah's partially-crazed voice came back through the sturdy wood.

He called back. "I'm not going anywhere."

Suddenly the door wrenched open. Sarah was there – her blond hair in disarray, her eyes puffy and swollen, a Kleenex in her hand, and no make-up on her face. She'd never looked more beautiful.

"And neither are you." He added. "I just got you. I love you. I am not losing you again. I made Beckman see reason."

"Wha … how? Oh, never mind. You're here. I love you." Sarah's expression had brightened upon seeing him, he noticed. And it just grew brighter. And she said 'love' again. She really did love him. It wasn't a tease or a joke. It was real. Real love.

"I love you."

Then words became unnecessary. He stepped to meet her – met her lips with his. Met her questing tongue with his. No awkward bending over. No gawkiness or shyness. Just two lips and then two bodies colliding.

His eyes closed. Sights were a distraction he couldn't afford. He felt her fingers in his hair. His arms were wrapped around her, crushing him to her. He couldn't breathe. At the same moment, they both turned their heads slightly. He inhaled deeply, breathing in the smell of her. Breathing in the feel of her. Breathing in the feeling of being in love and being loved back.

And then his hands moved – caressing her, massaging her phenomenal body through her clothes. His right hand moved higher while his left hand moved lower. But they both continued to press her into himself. He couldn't feel close enough to her. Even the air between them was too much. Clothing was strictly unnecessary.

His right hand reached her left shoulder. Her arm was already moving, losing the cradle on his head, but letting him push the tight jacket backwards, down her arm. Oh, her arm. The feel of her skin against his hand. It was almost too much to take. He luxuriated down her arm, hurrying to get the jacket off but fighting a tendency to adhere at each point of skin-to-skin contact.

Finally, the jacket was off. Off one arm. It fell back, across his left hand to dangle uselessly. His hand, oh where his left hand was. He could feel her raise a leg and wrap it around him. Felt it through his hand and his side. Felt the muscles move, the body shift.

The jacket was off. His lips left the succulence of her mouth, left behind the taste of her. And tasted her again and again. Her cheek, her neck, her ears, her shoulder. Tasted her sweat, her soap. Tasted her. Licked, kissed, nibbled, tasted.

Sarah had let her head fall back and he could hear and feel her breathing. Felt each sharp intake of breath. Felt each shuddering exhalation. He kissed his way back up to her mouth, let her taste his passion.

While his tongue was dancing with hers, he felt her hands move, insistently, between them. Between them? She wasn't pushing him away, was she? But, no, when her hands got between them, she simply broke every button on his shirt, forcing it back and over his shoulders. He had to remove his hands from her momentarily. Just a moment but an eternity. An eternity too long.

When his hands returned to her, they both began searching for a zipper or a seam or anything, any place to get some leverage on her remaining clothes. The things keeping them still apart. Nothing would ever become between them again. He attacked the things keeping them apart now. A frenzy to remove all barriers.

He felt air moving across his legs. Apparently, he was falling behind in the undressing game, while Sarah had continued moving things forward. At last his questing fingers found the seam between top and bottom. Her fingers were grazing up his chest and back, pulling his undershirt up. He returned the favor, grasping gently, and moving his hands to her sides. Pulling upwards, they soon both had their arms above their heads. Their lips had had to part briefly but only for a moment. Then they were reconnected. And now so much more than lips connected them.

It took him a moment to realize how much contact he had with her. With so much of her. No bra – no slip – nothing. He'd often suspected as much, lingered over the thoughts of what that meant. And now he knew. He felt her skin pressing against his. Felt the tightness. Felt the warmth. Felt the heat.

They each quickly finished removing their own tops and Chuck's hands went exploring again. Her back was smooth, muscled, and nearly perfect. The skin under his fingers felt better than silk or satin. From shoulder to waist, he traced every pore, every curve, every bone, every muscle and his fingers even found a small scar.

Then her mouth was moving. He gasped for air, with the sudden release. Then her lips were trailing fire across him. He couldn't breathe normally. Her fingers on his back. Her lips across his chest, trailing lower, leaving behind enough heat that he felt he must surely be burned.

A low moan escaped his throat. He wanted her to stop – it felt too good. He wanted it to last forever but the delicious agony was almost more than he could stand. His hands were in her hair now. Her hair, like silvery strands of spun perfection – the way a spider web looks but doesn't feel.

He yielded to pressure and raised his right foot. Then his left. The flames had almost reached his feet. His body felt like the sun. Then the ministrations stopped. He gasped and dragged his chin back down, his eyes springing open, for a moment. And then more than a moment – seeing her for the first time. Seeing every part of her. Seeing all the tones her skin took. Noting that she was a natural blonde.

She was just standing back up. But standing up, dragging herself across him. Every part of her body touched every part of his. He felt, again, the hardness, the softness, the no-longer-restrained passion.

Electricity replaced fire. It arced from spot to spot, triggering reactions. Most of his nervous system felt shut down. There was no sound. There was no light. There was just the feel of her. The feel of her short-circuiting everything he thought he knew.

Cold. Why was one track up his leg cold? And wet? Then the sensation hit his nose. Musky. Tangy. The smell of her arousal. God, she was as ready for this as he was. How was that possible? But it was true. The thought sent him spiraling higher and higher. She wanted him. Him. Chuck. Sarah wanted him. And he wanted her. Needed her.

Then he felt her lips against his again, insistent, gentle, firm, forceful, promising, demanding, accepting, giving. He wanted nothing more than to kiss his way all the way down her body, stopping at certain spots. But he couldn't. The pressure, from a year of worship, from an exhilarating day, from anticipation on the drive over, it was all just too much.

His knees started to buckle. Sarah's did the same. Vertical became horizontal. Nothing separated them any more. Nothing. Firmness met inviting, wet warmth. Two voices gasped as one. The kiss lost cohesion. Hands were forgotten. Legs reached up and around. Need, passion, desire, love, ardor, obsessions all met in a growing crescendo beat. Various sounds escaped lips. Even breathing seemed optional and a pitiful distraction.

Then, a sudden peak. A stiffening shared by two bodies, twenty toes curling, mouths moaning – no longer trapped by the other. A gasp. Repeated shudders. Uneven breaths. A hint of sanity returning. A realization of what had just happened. Two shared smiles that provided light to the entire city.

His vision started to clear. He was one again, not two. His breathing was still ragged. And she was still there. It had been real. He savored the sight of her, the flush on her skin, the blonde hair cascaded around her, wet with sweat on her forehead, the feel of her skin still pressed against his. His questing eyes met hers, which were wild with abandon and love. Their eyes trapped each other – he started to drown in the infinite depth of her blue eyes. He'd fallen into that water before, but this time he could stay.

He could stay, that is, until the light in them changed and an impish delight appeared. He swam to the surface, pulled back into himself, what he could, and sought the source of her delight.

The melody of Sarah's voice tinkled across his eardrums. "Mmmm", she purred. Purred that he heard and felt and sent shivers cascading across his body. "That was wonderful. But for round two …" Round two? Round two?!? Sweet mother-of-pearl, yes. "Can we actually come into the room?" Chuck looked around. They were lying across the doorway to her room, clothes haphazardly scattered, broken buttons and necklace nearly invisible.

He couldn't stop a short, low laugh. So much for worrying about PDA. He eased off her, hating to lose the contact, but wanting to move inside. He pushed clothes into the room. And nearly died when she spoke again, tenderly, softly, through her smile. "Because, love, this was just the spring roll on the feast I have imagined."

At this time, I have no plans to write a Chapter 4. This is the end. Use your imagination beyond this point.