A/N: Finished this at the lake but we got home late. This is one of probably 5 chapters before Honeymooners starts in earnest. Enjoy!

It was close to dusk when I finally woke up. Chuck was still asleep, his difficult sleepless night not completely banished quite yet.

The sensation of waking up like that, for the very first time, was transformative. I felt like I had crossed into a different dimension, our physical union serving as the demarcation between what had been and what was to be. I was happy…happy…for the first time in my life. At 30 years old, that's a long wait. But Chuck was worth it.

His arms were still around me, holding me against his chest. One of his legs was wedged between mine and in turn, my leg was draped across him. My hair was tangled in his fingers, splayed out against his chest, pale in contrast to his dark chest hair. His soft rhythmic breathing was a relaxing backdrop.

I watched him sleep. God, he was beautiful. Not maybe the first word that might come to mind—but so appropriate for how I felt looking at him. I had been attracted to him when I first saw him with his mop of curly hair and that electric smile. He was cute, boyishly endearing. Alongside my feelings my reaction to him grew as well. He was handsome, attractive, sexy even…mostly because he didn't try and he didn't even know.

But beautiful? When I looked at him with my heart, that was what I saw. Physically attractive but just as beautiful on the inside—noble, courageous, caring, loving, understanding. Tears swelled and my throat ached over the lump created when I reminded myself that he was mine. Mine.

He chose me. He loved me. I never felt worthy of him, but he took the time to show me differently. I made a silent vow to myself to always remember what this felt like—to never forget how lucky I was to have him.

I think he sensed me staring, for his eyes fluttered open slowly. Still sleepy, he was absolutely adorable. The moment he was awake and aware, he smiled and it lit the room.

"Hi," he whispered. His body woke gradually. He twirled my hair through his fingers and caressed my hip.

"Hi," I whispered in return, emotions still too close to the surface for anything more.

I touched his face then ran my fingers through the hair at the base of his neck. He blinked sweetly, like a puppy being scratched.

His face got suddenly serious. "Sarah, I don't know what I was thinking but…we didn't use—"

I put my finger over his mouth. "It's ok," I assured him. "I should have told you so you wouldn't worry. Even in Barstow," I added, shifting my gaze away.

His eyes widened in surprise. I needed to explain better. There was so much I felt I should tell him, so much so that I didn't know where to start. Huge pieces of my life that he deserved to know about. I had to start somewhere.

"Female agents are required to use contraception. Injections I get regularly once every three months."

A dark cloud seemed to pass over his features. I knew now that it was sympathy mixed with outrage. I marveled at how overnight I now seemed able to interpret his emotions when I had been so confused before.

That look required further elaboration. "The kind of missions that we could be assigned…would be too dangerous if somehow we were unexpectedly carrying a baby. Even married agents have to use them." I swallowed hard. "And sometimes…things get…sticky. Seduction missions, you know…like Carina did not that long ago."

I glanced back at him and the look on his face frightened me a little. So worried. This is Chuck. You can talk to him. I kept telling myself that, drawing comfort from the loving arms around me.

"Chuck, I made a pact with myself when I first started as an agent that I would never do that. My body belonged to me and not the CIA."

A quick, soft grin appeared and he stroked my chin. My scent still lingered on his fingers and it was momentarily distracting. "Like me with guns," he added.

It's ok. Tell him.

"There was only one time…when I broke that promise to myself."

He sucked in a hard breath and held it, waiting for me to tell him.

"It's not what you think, I mean, not what I think you think," I said quickly. I forced myself to look in his eyes. The love shining there gave me the strength to continue. "The mission Beckman sent me on when you were in Prague…"

He pulled me closer, though we were already so close. His breathing was faster and I could hear his heart pounding. It was like he was bracing himself to hear it, the context telling.

"I never had sex with him, not conventional sex anyway." He tucked his chin over my head. "He had a…kept woman who lived in his compound with him. He liked watching us…me… having sex with her." I felt my cheeks burning. "I'm not bisexual, Chuck. But she gave me drugs and I…I enjoyed it. I even think at times I begged her for it."

I kept my face buried, ashamed. He was quiet. I worried at first what the silence could mean, but I told myself it was alright. I wanted him to know everything.

Time ticked on and his grip on me never wavered. I felt safe, loved, not the least bit judged. "I'm sorry, baby," he whispered. "I didn't understand how badly I hurt you in Prague…not until we left my apartment after you…"

He called me "baby." It just flowed, naturally from his mouth. I momentarily blocked out the rest of what he said, hearing only that word.

Terms like that had always bothered me, after my makeover courtesy of the CIA. Cat calls and impersonal outbursts. Demeaning and derogatory.

When he said it, it was tender and sweet. A term of affection. But it was extra special for me. It implied vulnerability and trust. I could be submissive to him. I wanted to be his, just that way. I felt incredibly special.

It eased the pain of that conversation.

There was more to that encounter with Gilles, but I told myself a little bit at a time was better. I wasn't hiding anything from him, but pacing was important. It was a lot, I knew.

"It was just sex," I said regretfully. "It had been so long for me and I was so sad and lost…" I lifted my face. "I regret it now." I closed my eyes. "I never did well…missing you."

"I love you." I still couldn't reply to that, but I knew it was his way of telling me he understood, that he forgave me. He lifted my chin and kissed me. Tenderly at first, but passion quickly ignited the flame. I wrapped myself around him.

He gripped my hips tightly and in one fluid motion swung me up so I was on top of him. "This makes you comfortable, right? Being in control…" His hands relaxed around my waist.

"Usually. But it's different with you. In every way," I said, leaning forward onto his chest. I kissed his chin.

Oh, the smile I saw took my breath away. "I'll remember that." His voice changed, desire making his breathing tight. He lifted my hips, lifting me off his body. A quick shift and he slid inside me, pushing my hips down until he was deep.

I sighed contentedly at the sensation. "I don't want anything between us, nothing at all," I breathed as I slowly started moving up and down on his shaft.

"I'm all yours. Let me watch you. You're so beautiful, Sarah."

It was an invitation, carte blanch to ride him to my heart's content, completely in control of our lovemaking. The position itself was familiar, but this felt different. It became not about my own pleasure, but his.

Desire surged through me as I realized, like this, I had the power to bring him all the way to his ultimate pleasure, by my own exertions. I wanted so badly to please him, it was all I could think about.

I listened to the way he breathed, the way he sighed and moaned. He liked it when I rolled my hips and rocked back and forth. I had never moved this way during sex, so my first orgasm surprised me; it was a byproduct of my motion, rather than my sole purpose.

He felt it happen, I know he did. He gasped and then moaned as my muscles gripped him deep inside me. I rested on his chest as the sensation slowly dissipated. I was sensitive but I continued sliding up and down on him, eager for his pleasure as well.

But he had been observing, always paying such close attention to me. He moved counter to me, thrusting in rhythm with me, holding my hips to increase the friction as we moved. I came again right away, harder this time. I heard him whisper, "oh…God…"

I was still in the grips of the orgasm when I changed my pace, furiously grinding down on him, a frenetic, feverish pace that had us both out of breath. "Sarah…" he gasped. "I'm…oh…God…" I felt him come, a warm flutter felt deep inside me.

He held me close, cuddling me. I learned that term from him, something I had also never done before. We lay quietly peaceful together for a while.

"You must be starving," he said once he caught his breath. "We should go out. It's dinner time. We can talk."

He meant talk about our plans. We had been discussing walking away from the spy life to be together for real before the Paris fiasco with Shaw. We did need to talk about what was next.

I didn't want to get out of bed, didn't want to let him go. But I was hungry. I reluctantly left the bed and told him I was going to shower. I was in there for less than a minute and then he was in there with me.

Everything is smaller in Europe. A basic truth in my experience. I had been all over the world and I had seen it firsthand. This was an expensive suite, but the shower was the size of a small closet. Chuck was so tall he had to stoop to fit under the stream of water. He fit snugly behind me as I faced the faucet. There wasn't room for both of us to wash, but that wasn't why he was here with me.

I will make a point to say here that by leaps and bounds, Chuck was the most…potent…lover I'd ever had. His refractory period was small, sometimes seemingly nonexistent.

We had just had sex five minutes before in the bed, but I felt him, hard as a rock against the back of my upper thigh. "Again?" I giggled.

"This has been building up for three years. I hope you're prepared for the fallout," he laughed.

I giggled, but I went silent when he got to work. He pressed himself against me, leaning me against the wall just below the shower head. I was out of the stream of water, instead it cascaded down from his shoulder and down his body, streaming in between us. He wrapped his arms around me, cupping each breast, and he entered me from behind.

I'd never had sex standing up before. And except for just the one time with Bryce after he'd talked to Carina, I hadn't let anyone do it this way since Sam. It surprised me, with just my general impression of Chuck. He didn't seem like he wanted sex like that—with us not facing each other.

I would soon find out why he chose this. His entry was gentle and I was still lubricated well from last time. But it seemed that initial thrust was testing my readiness, for in no time he was vigorously thrusting into me, bracing us both against the shower wall.

I wasn't prepared for how that was going to feel, however. His hands were all over me, touching me, caressing me. He kissed the back of my neck, the skin behind my ears, and across my shoulder.

He was hitting my G spot perfectly. How did he know to do this? I asked myself before my mind went blank as the most intense orgasm I had ever had took me over like a seizure. My vision darkened around the edges as the intensity of my contractions around him took control. My orgasm triggered his release.

We moaned together, coming and finishing at the same time. That was the first time that had ever happened to me, but with Chuck it became the norm.

I can honestly say in all the time I've been with Chuck, after the shower sex in Paris, the only other time we didn't finish together was when I was confined to bed rest when I was pregnant with our fourth child. The pregnancy complications forbade vaginal sex, but not orgasms, as the doctor explained. Because I had to lie on my left side only, we had to take turns. But that's a long way in the future from here.

Feeling him contract inside me while my muscles were squeezing him created a euphoric, almost out of body experience. I think I was loud, although I don't remember much about my vocalizations.

"I knew…you'd like that," he panted, out of breath. I decided him out of breath from making love to me was my new favorite sound. Oh God, he was sexy when he did that.

I still couldn't catch my breath enough to talk, but fortunately he elaborated. "When I touched you like that last night, you went crazy. I thought it would feel better that way."

It always had, I knew this about myself and what I liked. But I had always liked being in control most. I no longer felt that way with Chuck. He found a way to stay in close contact with my body while still taking me from behind.

Still out of breath, I turned to face him, stepping into the stream of water that was significantly cooler than before. I felt his seed dripping from inside me and down my inner thigh. "I do. But nothing compares to looking in your eyes, seeing your face." I leaned forward and kissed him, savoring the way he tasted, though he would have called that morning breath. It never bothered me—it was just how he tasted and I loved it.

He washed me quickly, then himself. We dried off together, got dressed together. We were ready to go out. He kissed me before we left, enough that I almost forwent dinner for another round in bed with him. That hunger wasn't nearly satisfied.

He promised to take me back to the hotel early…for dessert.