Critical Hellfire

By Steampunk . Chuckster

Summary: Chuck and Morgan are co-hosts of a locally popular streaming channel in which they discuss all things metal while playing video games. Their lives are uprooted when their demo guy hands them THE demo of the ages—a band called Critical Hellfire, fronted by singer and bassist Sarah Walker. AU Charah.

A/N: Thanks for the reviews, y'all. Appreciate you.

Disclaimer: I don't own CHUCK or any of its characters. I don't own any of the songs mentioned in this chapter, this fic, or anywhere else for that matter. I am making absolutely zero dollars writing and posting this.

Morgan let his words exist in the silence between them for a few moments as Chuck drove them to Sarah's home to pick her up. And then he finally added, "Am I right or am I right?"

Chuck's tongue darted out to wet his lips. "I mean, sure, Cole just invited Sarah and not her bandmates, but that's just because everyone always assumes the lead singer is, like, the leader of the band. The captain, ya know?"

"Uh huh. You still invite the whole band if your intention is to boost the whole band. Just a thought I had."

Chuck let that ruminate.

It had been a week since Sinners, and things between him and Sarah were simmering so deliciously. He made sure he saw her whenever he could and vice versa. Critical Hellfire even let him and Morgan hang out while they jammed.

Somehow, watching her during jam sessions made him sink even deeper in this state of complete drowning. He was drowning in Sarah Walker. Unable to come up for air… No, he didn't want to come up for air. Let him drown.

He was so seriously in love, it was ridiculous. Mere weeks after meeting her, after hearing her voice even for the first time.

In. Love.

Then Cole Barker got in touch with both him and with Sarah, asking them if they would like to join him at his condo in downtown LA for drinks to discuss their respective ventures with his production company. "You two are…a thing, right? I wouldn't know about Sarah without my pursuit of the GnR guys. I want all three of you to join me. We'll talk business over champagne."

They agreed.

However, Chuck noticed that Morgan was awfully quiet in the car until he asked him what was up.

Now they sat here with Morgan Grimes' words sitting between them, like a dark cloud.

Chuck pushed the needling feeling to the side. "Dude, it's fine. It's just a friendly invite for us all to have champagne in his high-rise condo. It'll be cool. It's gonna be like a…seal the deal sort of thing."

"We already signed the contracts, Chuck. At least, we did. I don't know how far Critical Hellfire's gotten. Why's he gotta bring us into his slick pad, gorging us with champagne? It seems…"

"Like he's showing off? C'mon, Morgs. That's what these guys do. They show off. It's a…um…'Hey, look what you might have if this enterprise with Games N Rock Sessions pays off the way I can make it pay off.'" Chuck shook his head dismissively. "You know what I'm saying."

"I hope you're right, man."

Chuck frowned as he pulled up to the curb. "Hey, do me a favor, buddy. Don't say stuff like this in front of Sarah, huh? This is potentially huge for Critical Hellfire and I don't want you to say stuff to dampen it for her. 'Kay?"

"Naw, of course I won't. This is just between us. I get it. This is the difference between an advert for the band that'll go mad viral and…well, goin' back to the gigs and battle of the bands against really terrible bands that don't even deserve to be on the same stage as Critical Hellfire."

"Exactly. Okay, good. We're on the same page."

"Same page, same paragraph, same sentence, same word, same letter."

"Okay, thanks, man."

Sarah was already rounding the corner from where she'd come down the stairs, walking towards them in a black cocktail dress with long sleeves that had thumb holes. She waved with her clutch, grinning.

Morgan grandly climbed out from the front seat, holding the door for her with a, "Hi, Sarah!" Chuck felt a bit of pride as his best friend took Sarah's hand and helped her into the front seat.

"Hello, Morgan. Very gentlemanly," she teased him. "You don't have to give up the front seat. I can sit in the back."

"No, no. Please. Front's yours."

She smiled as he shut the door for her and she turned to look at Chuck with a soft, "Hi, you."

"Well, hello. You are gorgeous."

Her smile became a massive grin. "And you are sweet."

As Morgan climbed into the back, she glanced at him over her shoulder, smiled, and they were on their way. Within minutes, with W.A.S.P. playing in the background, Sarah sighed, and spoke up in the comfortable quiet that settled between them.

"So what's everyone's read on this Cole Barker guy? I know I've asked. We've all decided he's legit. But I mean, what's this thing tonight about? Have you guys not signed a contract yet?"

"Oh, we have," Chuck responded. "They've already sent folks out to take pictures and measurements of my basement."

"Yeah, it was truly the weirdest shit."

Chuck pointed at Morgan in agreement, then used the same hand to pick up Sarah's, threading their fingers.

She squeezed. "We've signed too. We had a big long talk about it, the four of us, even had a lawyer look it over to make sure we won't be losing our pants if things go South, and we decided we aren't going to go anywhere if we don't take chances. This is our chance. We're taking it."

He beamed proudly at her. "Congrats, Sarah. That's awesome."

"Heeeey!" Morgan drawled from the back, reaching up to squeeze Sarah's shoulders.

"Thank you. It's pretty big." She paused. "And don't think I'm ignoring the part you two had in it. If Cole hadn't followed you to that gig at my warehouse, he wouldn't have seen us play. We owe you two big time."

"You don't owe us a thing."

"That's a big fat lie," she shot back. "You can brush it off, but we know how this big shot producer caught wind of us. And I want you two to know that we know."

"Noted," Morgan said diplomatically. Then he scooted up close, between their respective seats in the front. "Do you think Cole's gonna have a bachelor pad like in those 'sixties movies? With a stupid circular bed that vibrates?"

They both laughed.

"Eeeewwww!" Chuck exclaimed, wrinkling up his face. "Clap on, clap off lights. With dimmers."

"Alexa, dim the lights," Morgan added.

"Alexa, romantic setting please."

Sarah giggled, shaking her head. "Or it'll be a normal place that a rich guy would live in."

"Well, it's definitely not a basement." Chuck shrugged.

"I like your basement," the blonde shot back, pushing the hair she'd fixed in waves out from the front of her shoulder to her back again.

"Oh, me too. Don't get me wrong. But it isn't a super swaggy bachelor pad."

He didn't realize how fortuitous those words would end up being.

}o{

"Take a look around, make yourselves at home." The charming smile went along perfectly with the crisp English accent. Not to mention the extremely suave grey suit he was wearing. Did this guy dress like this all the time? Or was it just for their benefit because he was having clients over?

Did he ever wear, like…khakis? Oh God, now Chuck was imagining Cole Barker in khakis. Not great.

"Drinks?"

Cole Barker gestured to the side towards a full bar. A full bar that was just…here…inside of his bachelor pad. Dear God, this place was the most bachelor pad-y bachelor pad he'd ever seen. Not that he'd ever really been in one of these in person before.

"Holy shitballs," Chuck muttered, his jaw falling over. "Er, I mean, um…yes, please. Thank you."

"Everyone good with champagne? We have much to celebrate." Cole winked.

"Oh. Uhhhh, I'm n—Um, sure. Champagne's great." Chuck nudged Morgan halfway through his spiel about not being a champagne fan. Chuck knew this about his best friend, but at the moment, he thought accepting the celebratory, super fancy bubbly drink was in everyone's best interest.

"Great."

Cole pulled a chilled bottle out of the fridge beneath the bar and popped the cork expertly, pouring the champagne into four glasses just as expertly.

As if he'd done this a million times before.

Distributing the drinks, he held his flute up towards them. "To mutually beneficial partnerships and graduating to bigger and better things."

They all clinked glasses and took a sip. Chuck was relatively sure he heard Morgan make a quiet retching sound and as he subtly glanced at his buddy, he saw him pulling the glass back and giving it a disgusted look, smacking his lips and shivering.

Weirdo.

Chuck spotted a sliding glass door, beyond it, the sky lined with the exceptionally tall skyscrapers of downtown Los Angeles.

"Whoooooaaaaaa," he breathed. "Is that a balcony? A balcony off of a fifty-third floor penthouse? Can I…?" He gestured to it.

"Of course. Please. Take a look."

Chuck snagged Sarah's hand and she made a surprised little sound, giggling, going with him to the door. He glanced down at the lock, letting go of her hand for a moment to flick it, sliding the door open, hit with a cold fifty-third floor breeze. "H'ooohhh shit cold!"

Sarah laughed, stepping out onto the balcony with him. "Oh my God, it is gorgeous up here. And cold."

"So cold!" He shivered, hurrying up to the railing and leaning over to look down. "Whoooooooooeeeeeeeeeee baby, this is high. And I know high."

"Because you're super tall?"

He laughed. "I was gonna say I've smoked a lotta doobies in my day, but the tall thing too I guess. That was cute."

She blushed. "Oh, that kind of high. Right."

"You cold?"

"A little. But it feels good. The air up here is nice and fresh." She sent him a teasing look. "Now I know what you feel like all the time."

"Wh—Oh." He snorted. "Another joke about my height."

Sarah let out an adorably mischievous giggle, moving in close to kiss his cheek.

The door swept open behind them. Sarah pulled her lips back from his cheek quickly and turned. Chuck glanced over his shoulder.

Cole stood there, a polite smile on his face. "Good view, isn't it?"

"It's beautiful," the bass guitarist gushed. She squeezed Chuck's arm. "I was just telling Chuck how gorgeous it is out here."

"Yeah. I'm pretty lucky. I get to see it all the time. Well, me and the people I invite over for champagne."

Chuck spotted movement behind Cole. Morgan stood inside, a bit stiff. When he made eye contact, the bearded one widened his eyes and mouthed, "Chicks!" and then began to thrust his hips suggestively.

Clearing his throat, Chuck looked away, scratching the back of his head. "But lest we forget, we are here for, uh, ahem, business."

"Yes, of course." Cole stepped out. "But there's no harm in taking in the sights for a bit longer." He set his gaze on Sarah, guiding her to the corner of the balcony. "If you squint hard enough to the west, you'll see the Pacific Ocean meeting the sky."

Chuck felt a hand on his shoulder and looked away from Cole showing Sarah the sights, seeing Morgan hovering at the threshold onto the balcony. "Hey. Buddy, come out here and—What? What's—Oh, shit. Heights. Right. Sorry."

"Yeah, I'm not goin' out there. C'mere. Wanna show ya something."

Giving him a confused look, Chuck stepped into the living room of the penthouse with Morgan. The place really was impressive.

"Okay, let's just…put some things into perspective." Morgan spread his hands out to either side grandly. "You're a young woman, beautiful, full of promise…"

"You're losin' me, buddy."

"Just—Damn it, work with me." Chuck held his hands up in surrender, eyes wide. "You walk into this place, following Mr. James Bond out there…" He made a sing-songy heavenly sound, fluttering his eyelashes. "Oh, look at this full bar. Look at this spotless leather furniture here. Oh my God, but the view of the LA skyline. Oh, out there is the ocean. Oooo la la. Did you hear him speaking Italian or whatever to the doorman? Which…by the way…he's got a doorman he's on first name basis with—means he's kind to 'the help'," he added mockingly, lifting his hands up by his head to do air quotes.

"Jesus, Morgs."

"What kind of woman isn't gonna be swept up by that?"

Chuck rolled his eyes. "Morgan."

His co-host scrambled over to the sitting area, beside which was a super expensive looking mahogany end table. Morgan grabbed the top books and flashed it for Chuck. "Chase!" Morgan exclaimed, reading the title. A stick figure guy was being chased by a stick figure woman in a dress. "The simple step-by-step formula for making women obsess over you!" Chuck made a grossed out face. "And this one. Dating for Men Mastery…grammatically stupid. But oh, look at that, she's licking his face, that's fun. If you're in the market for women coming up and licking you like you're made out of ice cream, this is for you."

Chuck couldn't help laughing. "Dude, okay. The books are weird. But… Ignore and Score? Is that real?" he asked, seeing the last one Morgan held up.

"He's got these just…out like they're a coffee table book of nice Impressionist paintings. No shame."

Morgan slid open the drawer of the end table then and Chuck hurried, "Hey! Stop—"

"Whaaaaattttt? Nnnnooooo…"

"What?" Chuck asked, moving in a step closer. He was curious, so sue him.

Morgan pulled out a yellow box of…oh shit, condoms.

"Ribbed for her pleasure," Morgan read from the box, holding it for Chuck to see. "Eeeewwwwwwwww!"

"Put that away!" Chuck hissed. "Right now!"

"He has some non-ribbed ones in here too. Lots of flavors. Ew gross. Because every girl wants to feel like a child who's just gotten flavored fluoride at the dentist when she goes down on a man—"

"Put the—Close the drawer! Now! You heathen!"

"If there's a Bible in here, I'm gonna throw myself off the balcony."

"Morgan, I swear to fuck. You—"

Chuck heard Sarah's voice getting louder as she and Cole came back in. Morgan hurriedly shut the drawer and they both sat in their respective seats, holding their flutes of champagne casually. Chuck even crossed his legs, turning to smile innocently at them as they slid through the balcony door back into the warmth of the penthouse.

He felt a little spark in his chest as Sarah scanned the room, obviously looking for him because when she found him, she stopped looking, and a wide smile spread over her gorgeous features.

"Ah. There you boys are," Cole said. "Let's get to business, huh?" He paused then. "Oh. Do any of you like empanadas? There's a place right around the corner. Authentic Iberian Peninsula food. Delicious." He kissed the tips of his fingers.

"Hell yes," Chuck said. "That sounds great."

Cole looked at Sarah and she nodded shyly. Then he looked to Morgan.

"Yeah, I like…empanadas. A lot. Mhm."

"Good. Just a moment." Cole picked his phone out of his pocket and gracefully tapped around on his phone, lifting it to his ear. Just like that, he was speaking in a quick Spanish clip, even putting the "th" sound in there where the "s" sound usually was when Morgan and his mom spoke Spanish to each other.

When he hung up, he turned back to everyone and gave them that charming smile again. "All taken care of. We'll have empanadas delivered right to my door in twenty minutes."

"You speak Spanish…?" Sarah asked.

"Oh. Yes. Just a little something I picked up when I was running a studio in BarTHelona a few years back."

"A few yearTH back," Morgan muttered under his breath.

Chuck nudged him with his foot. Fine. Fine, he kicked him. A little.

Cole didn't seem to hear, and if he did, he studiously ignored it. Thank God.

"Ah, yes. I heard the, uh, Spain dialect. Definitely."

"What other languages do you speak?" Sarah asked, smoothly swinging around the couch arm of the couch and sitting right next to Chuck. "Heard you speaking Italian downstairs earlier."

"Oh, ha. Yes. Pietro is a good friend. Makes a great bolognese." Chuck could practically hear Morgan rolling his eyes. "And not that many languages. Spanish, Italian, you heard those. Russian, Cantonese. Japanese. I travel all over and I pick up languages like I do stamps on my passport. Ha. Oh, and French."

"Ahhhh," Chuck drawled, holding up his pointer finger. "Frère Jacques. Frère Jacques…" he said conversationally.

"Dormez-vous. Dormez-vous…" Morgan added, just as conversationally.

"We parle a little français as well," Chuck said, earning a bit of a subtly pinch to his side from Sarah. But when he glanced at her, she'd pursed her lips and twisted them to the side as if trying not to show her amusement.

Win.

"Right," Cole said politely, nodding. "As for you two boys. Games N Rock is the official name we're going with." He moved to perch on the coffee table where he could address both Chuck and Morgan.

"But it's…Sessions," Morgan said, squirming in the plush chair he sat in. "Games N Rock…Sessions."

"Right. I know. Only we were workshopping it and the panel of producers at Recruit-Emperors decided that Games N Rock Sessions doesn't really flow off the tongue."

"Well, maybe if we tried it in French."

"Rock and roll," Morgan helpfully recited in an exaggerated French accent, even miming holding a cigarette in a holder.

Sarah pinched Chuck again, but he ignored it, merely smiling at Cole.

"As I said, it's too long." Cole reached out to pat both Chuck's and Morgan's knees. "Sorry, chaps. To make it big, you're going to have to be okay with a few changes. Trust us. We're the pros, huh? We'll take care of you. Shoot you into the stars, so to speak."

"I'd like to stay on Earth," Morgan mumbled.

"So it'll just be Games N Rock. How's that, chaps?"

Chuck felt himself frowning a little. "Isn't it a little…not smart to change the name? I mean, our followers, our tried 'n true, have known us as Chuck and Morgan from Games N Rock Sessions for years now. If we take off 'Sessions', will they know it's us?"

"Of course they will. Especially if you alert them of the change on your show. Let them know it's going to be just Games N Rock now. And give them the news you're going to be broadcast on a new platform. Twitch is for the amateurs. Everyone's elbowing to get onto Recruit-Emperors. You boys'll get millions upon millions of viewers. No more of these paltry numbers in the thousands." He waved his hand dismissively. "The original viewers are going to be nothing compared to the people who will be watching you two talk about rock'n'roll and the video games, promoting products. Not just this LA crowd, but people from all over the world!"

"Promoting products?" Chuck asked quietly. "Oh."

"Well, of course. How else are you going to be making the big bucks?" Cole winked, beaming with his super straight, bright, sparkling white teeth. "You leave it all to me, gents. I'll make you big time."

Well, they'd signed the contract, hadn't they?

So Chuck nodded. Big time. Big bucks. That was all good, wasn't it?

Sure it was.

It was.

Then why did Morgan look like he'd swallowed a raw egg?

}o{

Sarah's mouth spread into a smile even as she kept her eyes closed, feeling a pair of soft lips against her shoulder, dotting down her bicep, and back up again.

But then he sighed, nuzzling her sensitive skin with his nose, her back exposed to him as she lay on her stomach. "Sarah? You asleep?" he asked in a very quiet whisper.

"If I was, that thing you're doing with your lips would ensure I wasn't anymore," she flirted, craning her neck to look at him over her shoulder.

"Sorry," he said with a light chuckle.

"Never apologize for that."

"You got it." He pressed his lips to her neck and she squeaked, squirming in his arms, his attentions tickling her.

Sarah then tugged at his embrace to loosen it just enough so that she could turn over and press her chest into his, poking the soft indentation between his lips and his chin, tilting his face so that she could kiss him properly.

Chuck swung by Morgan's place and dropped him off first, and then he took her home. She asked him to walk her up to her loft, and with a saucy look, she tugged him all the way inside with her and didn't stop until they fell into bed again.

She could admit to herself at least that this particular piece of this new romance was becoming something of an addiction. But their thing was new enough that she would only admit it to herself.

There were still moments when she felt how new it was, tentative touches in front of people, the way his brown eyes got all big when she took his hand in public, the way he blurted weird things, sometimes harmlessly immature things, and then immediately froze, like he wasn't sure if he should've filtered himself better, and maybe this was very embarrassing now and he might have to backtrack… She didn't know how to deal with those moments either, honestly.

She wasn't used to being around someone like Chuck Bartowski.

She'd witnessed him and Morgan do a strange dance together where they both made butterflies with their hands, fluttered their fingers, and stomped their feet when Van Halen's "Jump" came on at Sinners that one night. Simultaneously. As if it was something they'd practiced before.

Mac and Dylan had tried to join in, Zondra had distanced herself, sending Sarah a what the fuck look, and Sarah hadn't known what to do besides keep dancing and laughing.

She didn't know if anyone in the band knew what to do with these guys.

And then she got the curly-haired one of the two into bed, and it all clicked into place. She knew exactly what to do when it came to that.

He was biting his lip now, his fingers tracing a pattern against her spine. But there was a look in his face, like he had something he wanted to talk about but wasn't sure if he should.

"What?" she asked, wondering if she'd regret it.

"Hm?"

"You have a look, Chuck. What is it? Is it about the meeting with Cole tonight?"

"Those empanadas were bomb."

"They were."

"So was the champagne."

"Morgan didn't think so," she said crisply with an arched brow.

He winced. "Oh, you noticed that? I was hoping he would be more subtle about it than he was. You don't think Cole saw it, do you?"

"Probably," she giggled. "But he seemed equipped enough to ignore you two and your antics."

Chuck shrugged. "Antics are kind of our thing. It's why people watch our channel."

"I know. I'm not gonna dock you guys for it. It's fun." She had a hard time not laughing outright when Morgan said "rock and roll" in a pronounced French accent.

But Chuck was biting his lip thoughtfully again. She nudged him with her hips, silently catching his eye and furrowing her brow in question.

"Sorry. This isn't—I mean, you aren't here to have to listen to me thinking about shit that's bothering me out loud."

Sarah pulled her chin back and narrowed her eyes. "What? Yes, I am." She frowned then. "Wait, something's bothering you? What is it?"

He sighed heavily. "It's not that big of a deal. You're gonna think I'm being silly."

"Chuck," she admonished, giving him a look.

That worked wonders, because he dove straight in.

"The whole name change thing. Like, just…not even asking us. King Barker and his Producers of the Round Table just decided for us that the name is too long and they wanna cut part of it off. Oh, no problem. People will still know it's you. Well, then…why? What's the point of changing it in the first place?"

Sarah just listened, not sure what to say just yet, letting him get it off his chest.

"Morgan and I spent so much time coming up with the name. And the 'Sessions' part feels…important. It's like… I dunno, that's what it is. It's a session. We're sitting and having a gaming session, a gabbing about heavy metal session, a gushing about Critical Hellfire and how great they are session."

She loved that he slipped that in and she gave him a glowing smile for it.

"Maybe I am overreacting…" he said with a slight pout.

It was very cute, his amber-brown eyes all big and mopey. But she didn't show any of it, not wanting him to feel like she was patronizing him.

"No, Chuck. I get it. I know how I'd feel if Cole sat us down—you know, the band—and told us he didn't want hell in our name in case it offended the Christians."

"Who cares about your ex-boyfriend's opinion?"

It took Sarah a moment to get it and when she did, she gave him the flattest look she could muster. "Really?"

"Sorry." He chuckled, wrinkling his nose adorably. "Couldn't resist."

"Oh, yes you could."

She gave him a sideways look, then refocused the conversation. She was starting to notice he had a habit of diverting the conversation with funny comments he hoped veered them off course. Was it because he was uncomfortable with the conversation? A defense mechanism to protect himself from having to talk about hard things? She didn't blame him.

"Chuck, maybe this is just one of those…things about working with a producer who's going to take you to the big leagues or whatever. I mean, I don't know. I might just be talking out of my ass. But do you think change is…part of it? Making concessions to the people who work in the industry?" She huffed. "I feel kind of gross even saying it out loud. Critical Hellfire might have to do the same thing. And the thought makes me…" Feel like she didn't have control? Scared? She didn't finish the sentence.

"Yeah. Same. I mean, what we have is pretty great how it is. We get cool people on our channel even without being in the 'big leagues', ya know?" He used air quotes, his fingers curling against her back when he did it, making her giggle. How was he so cute?

"What if you just gave this a shot? I keep thinking about how much the Germans would fucking love you guys."

Chuck cracked up and she gave him an offended look. "S-Sorry. Sorry, I just—The Germans? That's so specific."

"I dunno. They love singularly American things. David Hasselhoff. Jeans.…uhhh…"

"Oh, please keep this list going, I wanna know what else is on it." She gave him another sideways glance as he looked at her with an immeasurable amount of mirth.

"No," she said haughtily.

"Aw, mannnn…" he whined. They chuckled together and he shut his eyes for a moment, his lips pursed thoughtfully. "You're right. We need to give this a shot." He opened his eyes again. "Maybe this is how it goes. Somebody's gotta find you, give you a chance, and you have to make…concessions. Meet 'em in the middle. They are the professionals."

"Yeah." She shrugged. "I mean, maybe Cole knows what he's talking about?"

"Someone with that penthouse probably knows what he's talking about," Chuck said with a snort.

"That place was really nice," she admitted. "Wouldn't mind living in it."

"Me, neither."

"But I don't know that Critical Hellfire is gonna get to a point success-wise where I would be able to afford a penthouse on the third floor, let alone the fifty-whatever-floor-that was."

Chuck was contemplative then, in a way that was different than before. This time she just waited, because it seemed like he was trying to figure out how to say it instead of figuring out if he should say it at all.

Finally, he said, "Speaking of…success. And, uh, Critical Hellfire."

That was interesting. She raised her eyebrows.

"Ahem, um… Morgan and I were gonna broach the topic together—I mean, that was the plan at least—and then he chickened out. But in his defense, he gets really…uh, sensitive about being rejected face-to-face. He'd rather be Carrie Bradshaw'd and broken up with through post-it on the fridge than have a girl break up with him face-to-face. It's a whole thing with him."

Sarah made a face. First of all, Morgan Grimes was truly the strangest person she'd ever met. And secondly, what kind of an introduction to a conversation was this?

"What is he afraid I'd reject him…about, exactly?" she asked slowly.

"Oh. Well? Um…" He winced, then took a deep breath, and dove right in. "We were wondering if…the lead singer and bass guitarist of this super excellent local band called Critical Hellfire would be interested in being a guest on our Twitch channel."

If she wasn't already lying down, she'd swear he'd just pulled the rug right out from under her feet.

A/N: I'm sorry, I couldn't keep the ribbed for her pleasure thing out of it. It's too good. IT'S TOO GOOD.

Please review if you can. Thanks! I'll get the next one out to y'all as soon as I can!

-SC