A/N: Busy, busy but now on vaca! Next installment of the space between Other Guy and Honeymooners. Still three more M-y chapters after this before we get into Honeymooners proper. Lots of conversation between them is coming...they are not there yet. As Chuck would say, they are communicating in other ways right now. Enjoy.

Night approached as we made our way outside. We walked close together, holding hands. He threaded his fingers through mine, holding me tightly, protectively. I realized how new a feeling that was, to feel protected, and the fact that it was Chuck making me feel that way made it feel even sweeter. I liked it.

I thought about how we looked to the people we passed on the street, just another pair of lovers in the most romantic city in the world. I kept looking over at him as we walked—almost like I needed to reassure myself that this was real. We were real.

I felt normal.

It sounds strange, but as far as normal went, for me, it was a dream I thought would never come true. Being normal. Or—it's better to say, feeling normal. I wasn't normal, and Chuck knew that. He'd told me that two years ago at the fountain. I would never be normal.

But back then that meant I couldn't be with Chuck. He had normalized my abnormality, hugged it to himself, accepting me for who I was. And now we could just be.

The future was uncertain, but not frightening. No matter what, we were together. Nothing would ever interfere with that again.

He smiled, almost shyly, when he saw me staring. Things were different, wonderfully different. We acted like lovers, in tune to each other, even as we strolled along. My body remembered his touch, and craved it again as I brushed up against him. I couldn't look at him now without thinking about what was underneath his clothes and how badly I wanted to touch him.

We'd made love three times in only about 12 hours…and I couldn't get enough of him.

I was dreamy, like a lovesick teenager, barely aware of my surroundings, so lost in him I felt like I was floating on air.

We stopped at a small café that wasn't too crowded yet. In France, later at night was the busiest time, at least for the locals, and we were early. We got a cozy table in the back, where we were relatively isolated. I sat next to him rather than across from him.

He was right about me being hungry. I ate everything on my plate and went for bits of his steak when I was finished. He fed me spoonfuls of his dessert as we shared it.

There had been very little conversation between us, only silly whispering about the real dessert. I was giddy, laughing and touching him. I kissed him as he sipped his espresso, his mouth still hot from the liquid. He was adverse to PDA, I knew, but I was insistent, kissing him deeply and not caring who saw. When he kissed me back it took all my willpower to not pounce on him right on the table.

The waiter interrupted us, and I spoke to him in French.

When he walked away Chuck asked, "How many languages do you speak?"

"Ten," I replied, surprised at my blush. I spoke ten fluently, and I could understand ten more enough to get by. It was ironic, considering I could speak so well in so many languages, but conversation in general was a struggle.

It was just a casual question, but it reminded me of how much he didn't know about me. I wanted to tell him everything, although I knew I couldn't just blurt everything out. Some of it would be hard to hear.

"I speak one. Well, one and a half. Three years of high school Spanish that I don't recall any longer." He smiled and sipped his coffee.

"That isn't true, Chuck."

"The Intersect doesn't count," he insisted with a shake of his head.

"No, I mean computers. That's a language…one I don't think I'll ever understand. It just flows from your mouth sometimes I think you don't even realize it."

He shrugged sheepishly, embarrassed by my praise.

"I think that was always one of my favorite things. Watching you work at the computer. Most of the time you focused so intently you didn't even know how I would stare at you." I felt awkward saying that, like the words didn't quite fit on the way out of my mouth. Translating my inner thoughts to words wasn't easy. I felt the heat begin to rise, slowly burning deep inside me. "You are…very…good with your hands."

He sputtered, choking on his coffee while he almost dropped the demitasse. He was adorably red, keeping his eyes on the table. "Thank you," he finally wheezed. I smiled and squeezed his knee under the table. I slid my hand farther up his thigh.

If this was the past, I could have pictured him getting flummoxed in that situation. Now, he only turned his head to look at me, his eyes smoldering with desire and his breath hitching as I touched him.

I asked for the check, eager to go back to the hotel for more dessert. But once we were outside, he was suddenly animated. "The Eiffel Tower at night. What do you say?"

He was excited like a little boy. I knew how badly he'd always wanted to go to Paris and see that. He kept that little model his father had given him near his bed. This was his second time in Paris. I'd been more often, but never to any tourist spots. I eagerly agreed.

Our hotel and the café were near Notre Dame, but the Eiffel Tower was further west on the Seine. We grabbed a taxi.

The structure was beautiful at night, sparkling like a diamond spire in the night sky. It was early April, so there was a chill in the air with the crisp breeze, more pronounced at the elevation we were at once we exited the elevator.

Chuck was still rambling about the elevator as we moved. He was talking so fast I missed some of his words, because he was just so excited. He was vibrant and alive and I loved him so much. I was overcome with emotion as we stood there.

"…and I'm boring you to tears right now, aren't I—"

I didn't let him finish, rushing towards him and kissing him for all I was worth, like it was the last thing I was ever going to do. We weren't completely alone, but we had enough privacy that I let it linger, savoring the way he tasted.

When he finally came up for air, I grabbed his hand and we ran to the edge, laughing together.

"It's so beautiful," I gushed as I saw the dazzling array of twinkling lights that spread all the way to the horizon. I could see all the landmarks in the city, including Notre Dame, where I had almost lost my life. I thought of it as far away, part of a chapter of my life that was now closed.

"Not as beautiful as you," he said against my ear as he put his arms around me from behind. I leaned back against him, weak in the knees like a schoolgirl.

"What are we going to do, Chuck?" I asked.

He laughed, snickering deviously. "Go back to the hotel." I felt his breath, warm on my neck before he nibbled on my ear. I shivered all over thinking about what he meant.

I had to force myself to focus. "No…I mean…you wanted to walk away…I was ready to walk away with you and then…" I didn't finish, not wanting to speak about what had just happened and what he had been forced to do.

"I want us to be together." He was adamant and certain when he said it. It was noncommittal, I realized, but in the moment it was ok. That was all I wanted too.

"I have some money stashed in Switzerland." I kept my gaze on the horizon, sifting the words before they came out. I had done that before I left Europe with Molly, as a fail safe. But after all this time of slowly adding to it, there was plenty there to spare. I hadn't heard from my mother, but I knew they were ok. "Most agents have a stash like that, just in case." I hoped that explanation was sufficient for him.

"Beckman is expecting us back. Morgan and Casey are expecting us back. Your sister–"

"We have time. We don't have to decide anything right now."

I turned around in his arms and kissed him. "You're right. But…Switzerland by train…that would give us time…and…"

He kissed me back. "We can decide tomorrow. Tonight…I have other plans."

~O~

I fell backwards onto the bed, Chuck's arms around my waist, though he was very careful to shift his weight so he didn't crush me beneath him. We both undressed in a flurry of clothes and limbs. Pressed together again, I could feel the warmth of his skin along my legs, and against my stomach as we touched. He buried his face near my neck, his chest grazing against my erect nipples. I could feel his mouth, then his tongue in the hollow at the base of my throat, moving slowly upwards towards my ear.

He was laboring to breathe, pulling me up by my waist to hold my body closer against him, as if even the faintest of gaps between us was unbearable. Every nerve felt alive and I shivered in anticipation of his touch. He was exploring me with his mouth–both sides of my neck, under my chin, down across my chest until he took each nipple in his mouth. I moaned softly, arching my body up against him. He moved farther down, his lips brushing against my stomach, a gentle hand on each of my hips holding me beneath him.

Oh, God…he wanted…

My first instinct was to redirect him. I had never even entertained the idea of a partner of mine performing oral sex on me, and consequently, I had never reciprocated. There had been that awful moment with Gilles, that I had yet to elaborate on, but also drunken and/or drugged nights with Carina and Regina.

I wanted him to do it; I had fantasized about him doing it for such a long time. But here, where everything was so new and wild, I felt like I was speeding out of control down a steep hill. To me, that kind of lovemaking was most honest, more intimate somehow. His emotions were on honest display. I owed him more truth, and in the heat of our passion, I didn't know how to introduce it.

I sat up, pulled him towards me with a gentle hand behind his neck, opening my mouth and kissing him deeply, the feeling of his tongue in my mouth sending shivers of pleasure into the deepest part of me. His lips were soft, his mouth demanding as he kissed me hard, passionately. I felt him, hard and hot, pressing against my thigh. I started shifting my legs, moving underneath him, when he moved his mouth away, trailing his tongue down the center of me between my breasts until he was back at my stomach.

He never let go of my hips, angling me smoothly as his mouth crept ever so slowly down my abdomen. He slid down, positioning himself between my legs. Before I could move again, I felt his finger, running gently across the slick skin at my opening, probing into the center of me effortlessly. It felt so good I lost myself, thrusting my hips against the movement of his finger. I was swollen, aching, in my most intimate places.

It was his breath against my inner thigh, as I felt him slide his finger out, that seemed to wake me up in the moment. My muscles stiffened, my body going taut beneath him. He stopped, looked up at my face, not moving from his spot, though lifted up so I could see him. "What is it, Sarah?" he asked. I felt my face burning, sure I had turned scarlet red. I closed my eyes and turned my head to the side.

"I…" I was breathless from wanting him, suddenly ill at ease in the moment, not wanting to talk like this. I looked at him again, his eyes burning with love and desire in a way I had never seen before. I knew he wanted me just as badly, but he was holding himself still, waiting. "No one…I've never…" I couldn't find the words, suddenly clumsy and awkward. He waited, and I said it again, more clearly. "I've never done this with anyone, Chuck. It's very…intimate."

"It is," he whispered. I had an awful thought that I wished I could have banished, thinking of him doing this with someone else, probably Jill. Stop, I commanded myself.

"I don't want to do anything that makes you feel uncomfortable with me." I could still feel his breath against me, so intimately close. I would be lying if I said that even in the midst of my discomfort if he wasn't turning me on, the way he kept shifting his eyes, looking at my vulva, completely shaved and I'm sure visibly swollen with desire. Looking like he was staring at something that was making his mouth water. "I've been…dreaming about this for so long, wondering what you tasted like…"

That was the sexiest thing anyone had ever said to me. How did such a sweet nerd like Chuck know how to melt me into a puddle?

"It's not you, Chuck," I whispered. He climbed up my body. I fretted in the moment that I was ruining the mood. But it was more important to clear the air with him. "I need to tell you something."

He wrapped his arm around me, pulling me close, brushing my hair away from my face. He was intent on listening to me.

"That mission I told you about before…when you were in Prague…" He held his breath, but continued to stroke my hair lovingly. "There ended up being no way out of that mission without…"

"It's alright," he whispered sincerely. I knew it was, that he understood, but I had to tell him the truth.

"I hadn't ever done that, myself, either…before…but…" It was impossible to say the words. A blow job. It sounded filthy and disgusting, and I felt saying it out loud would contaminate what we were doing. Nothing about what we had done, or would do, could compare.

He just held me, stroking my hair. Eventually he said, "I understand why it might upset you, thinking about that."

I looked up at him, tears coming to my eyes when I saw the purest look of love on his face that I had ever seen. "It doesn't upset me, Chuck, not the way you think. I want you to do it. I want to do it for you in return. I just…I…"

He kissed the tip of my nose sweetly. "You just…lie back…and relax."

I felt like I couldn't breathe, the thought of his mouth against me suddenly so intoxicating I couldn't think of anything else. I trusted him more than anyone else I had ever known. It was a complete surrender of my body and my soul. It was solely for me–the only pleasure he could derive from the experience was watching me contort with pleasure while I lay helpless and vulnerable beneath him. It was selfless, full of love, and suddenly something I knew could be beautiful, something I would share only with him.

I nodded, slowly, letting him know I wanted him to continue. I rolled onto my back, relaxing my muscles and spreading my legs for him. He reached up with both hands, cupping each buttock gently and lifting me off the bed.

I felt first his breath, warm against my skin, then his mouth, wet and soft, as it closed around me in the most intimate of kisses. I gasped out loud, amazed at that moment how incredibly good his mouth felt against me. "I dreamed of this…of you…like this…from the first day I saw you…" I gasped again, breathless. "I wanted you for so long…" I moaned, reveling in the sensation.

He laughed, the vibration against me intensifying the sensation. He parted my folds with his tongue, pressing the tip against the perfect spot, pulsating against me in a delicate and steady rhythm. The sensations built upon themselves. All the blood in my body felt like it was rushing to the flesh under his tongue, and closing my eyes, knowing the incredible way I felt was from his mouth against me, seemed to amplify everything even more. I had to let go, cracked open like an egg and at his mercy, trusting him to know what I needed.

I was moaning, though to my ears my voice sounded far away, like it had come from somewhere else other than inside my chest. Rocking back and forth against him, increasing the friction focused everything to a tiny pinpoint that exploded in a shower of color and light, blinding in its intensity. Every muscle in my pelvis contracted as my climax pulsed through me. For a moment, I wasn't in my body any more, instead transported away to a place that was warm and safe and comfortable. The undulations continued for an unbelievably long period of time, by far the most intense orgasm I had ever had.

He didn't stop, even as the copious liquid made my skin slicker. I could feel him, erect and poised against my leg as he worked until I came again. The second time was more intense, like I could feel it all the way to the roots of my hair. I think I called his name, at least once, though it was almost beyond my comprehension. Tears streamed from the corners of my eyes as I was overwhelmed by my feelings, tenderness and love flowing like a warm river into a frozen sea.

He understood how affected I was, pulling me against him as he slid up the bed toward me. I opened my eyes, my scent pungent on his face, his lips dewy from my juices. My eyes locked with his, and I couldn't look away. "Chuck," I whispered, shuddering as my breath stuttered out.

"I could feel you come…and you…taste different, sweeter afterward…you have no idea how sexy that is," he added with a chuckle, still a little out of breath.

I held onto him, but slowly rolled him onto his back, gently sliding down his leg. "Sarah…"

I could hear it in his voice, just my name. He wanted me to know there was no pressure, that he didn't expect it merely because of what he had done for me. He understood about what had happened in the past. But I loved him. I loved him. This was different and I wanted it to be. I thought of how much I loved him and all of my trepidation fell away.

"Tell me what to do," I whispered as I knelt between his legs.

He growled, deep in his throat, full of desire and longing. He closed his eyes and I could see his face flush, like he was slightly embarrassed.

"Tell me," I whispered again, more insistently.

"Lick me."

I started deep between his legs, running my tongue along the skin behind his balls, then swirling it over both of his testicles till he was glistening with my saliva. I was surprised at how cool they felt, much cooler than the rest of his skin. He breathed heavily, softly sighing as I continued. I ran my tongue up and down his rock-hard shaft. I wrapped my hand around him, tightly at the base, and licked the smooth tip of his penis, tasting the salty tang of his pre-ejaculate on the tip of my tongue.

He was moaning with pleasure. I was not expecting my own reaction, how turned on I was feeling, even after such a satisfying encounter just a few moments ago.

Unable to resist, I didn't wait for his cue. I brought my lips forward and slid my mouth over his tip, slowly taking all of him into my mouth until I could feel the tip almost gag me. He reached down, brushing my hair all to one side so he could watch me, which was also very sexy. We locked eyes, but then I closed my eyes and got to work.

I kept one hand firmly around the base of him and slid my mouth up and down. Make your mouth feel like a vagina. Carina's words of advice from long ago, and I said a silent thank you, now that I was using her expertise to please the man I loved. I pursed my lips tightly and increased the suction on him. I bobbed my head up and down, each thrust further and deeper into my throat. The deeper I could get him, the louder he moaned, so I knew he liked it.

"Oh, yes, Sarah…yes…" He was encouraging me, full of understanding. He didn't thrust up against me, didn't force himself into my mouth in any way.

My eyes watered, but I continued, pressing the tip of his cock to the back of my throat. I flashed, only for a moment, back to the awful encounter with Gilles. My mind couldn't stop from making the connection, but I rebelled, knowing this was nothing like that. I let my emotions drive me, the sound of his enjoyment urging me on.

I realized with surprise that I loved doing this, having him relaxed and comfortable while I took charge of his pleasure. I was dripping wet, feverishly close to another orgasm, even without a touch.

"Baby, I'm close," he gasped, warning me of his impending ejaculation.

He was even harder, his cock curling more against the roof of my mouth. I made the decision right then to let him finish in my mouth. I moaned over my mouthful, telling him it was alright without any words.

"Oh my God, Sarah…I'm…oh…Sarah…" My name, the second time, was an amazed sigh, gushed out at the same time as his orgasm, which pelted the back of my throat and filled my mouth with his seed. Salty and bitter, I gulped it down and swallowed. I had to swallow again before he finished.

I curled myself beside him, loving the way the taste of him lingered in my mouth. He was spent, trembling, but he somehow sensed the arousal my ministrations had induced. He reached from behind me, sliding a finger inside me. A minor massage of my clit immediately caused an orgasm, releasing the tension. I sighed with contentment, wrapping myself around him tighter.

"I love you," he whispered as he cuddled me against him.

I still couldn't say it back, and he never acted like he expected me to. I hoped he understood how I felt, given what I had done, and what I had told him. The only way to ensure that he knew was to continue to share myself with him, my past with the hope that it would solidify our future.

The plan we had set in motion at the top of the Eiffel Tower would begin the next day. And that was where it started.