A/N: The last chapter between Other Guy and Honeymooners. One bit of explanation needed here. In the next episode, he tells her they should have run in Prague. Which means...? Damn the hero's journey and blah blah, apparently, or at least that's what the writers seemed to think about that. I use that interpretation and weave it into this convo. Anyway...enjoy.
We spent most of the next day talking, although we did also eat, shower…and make love.
We were only four days into our relationship, our real relationship. I had to keep reminding myself of that, because it felt longer. I know it was because in my heart, I was pretending that the fake relationship was real all along, then lamenting it once it was gone. I always wanted this—what we now had.
We knew each other so well…but we also barely knew each other, relatively speaking. We were talking to catch up, making love to catch up.
Three years of wanting him the way I had…well, that left us four days in and almost 16 times of having sex. It was glorious.
Sure, he was insecure. I was too quiet. He was desperate to please me…even though it was actually so easy for him. I had never felt so aroused, so turned on. It was mind blowing, even if I was too often silent. I know he felt better, calmer, when he heard me moaning. I would never fake something, or make noise on purpose. But I shouldn't have been stifling anything either, and it was just my first instinct to be quiet.
In the throes of ecstasy, the likes of which I had never experienced, my rational thought disappeared and I was relying only on instinct. Twenty-nine years of it.
There were times when that worked to our benefit. Once we were together and spying, we had many, many encounters in the supply closet in Castle. Casey would have killed us if he knew, so there's that. But that's for later.
I slipped into a nightie after my shower and then cuddled with Chuck while we ate our dinner. We talked afterwards.
"I can't really…you know, tell you about Jill. I mean, anything that you don't already know. Everything I would say is wrong, part of the lies she was telling me.
"Bryce and her at the same time…destroyed me. I mean, you saw. It was five years later, but nothing had changed. I gave up, I think. And then I met you."
I nuzzled closer to him. "And I turned your world upside down and almost ruined your life." My voice was gentle, teasing, since that was the past. But he reacted sharply.
"That's not true, Sarah." I huffed my breath, doubting him. He relented. "Ok, I mean, it was in the beginning. But you…you saw something in me that I never saw. You gave me the courage to be the guy that you knew I could be."
"Oh, Chuck," I said softly, touching his face.
"There are a lot of things I could have done better. I made mistakes and I hurt you. But…I wouldn't change anything...except maybe the things I did that hurt you. It led me to you. That's enough."
His eyes were so full of love I couldn't look away.
"I hurt you, too. I confused you. I let you get caught in my denial, all the stupid things I did when I was trying to convince myself that I didn't…feel…what I was feeling."
I love you, Chuck. It was a loud thought. There, but I was still afraid to say it. I couldn't reason with myself as to why. It was still an intense moment of connection. We lingered in it, quiet and thoughtful.
A while later, I told him about the Secret Service and brushed over my years with the CATS very generally.
"I met Bryce on a mission. In Lisbon."
I had always cringed when I mentioned Bryce in the past because Chuck carried that defeated attitude about him. At last, that look Chuck would get was finally gone. He knew it was just him, only him, and that what Chuck thought Bryce meant to me wasn't the truth.
It was easier to talk now.
"You…buried his ashes there, didn't you?" he asked softly.
I closed my eyes, suddenly emotional. "He asked me to do it. One of his last wishes." I took a deep breath. "The only other thing he asked…he wanted me to prioritize my own happiness. He knew…how much you meant to me. That was what I was trying to do…before you left for Prague."
He winced like he had been struck. "I'm so sorry, Sarah. I didn't understand—"
"I know, Chuck. I didn't tell you. I didn't know how."
"If I'd known the whole truth, I would've run with you. I'm not sorry things happened the way that they did, but I could have spared you so much pain."
He would have run…he'd said as much before Paris. But like this, it was real.
"I didn't want to keep you from your…destiny." The word sounded awkward, contrived, but it was accurate. "I just…I couldn't bear the idea that I'd destroyed the most beautiful heart I had ever known. That I'd turned you into me." My eyes were still closed.
He moved closer, our bodies touching. His face was so close I could feel his breath on my cheek. "Look at me." He was insistent. I complied.
"You are beautiful and smart, loving and giving. Your heart is as beautiful as you are."
He made me cry, a painful lump in my throat. I curled into him and he hugged me against him. I never wanted him to let me go.
"Chuck…I…I hated myself for what I thought I had turned you into. That awful mission with Gilles…and my relationship with Shaw…I felt like I was punishing myself for destroying you.
"I think of it now and it feels like I was violated. Being with him was awful…painful sometimes. And I let him do it…I felt like I deserved it. I…"
He was growling deep in his chest, sickened by my words. "I know you don't want the gory details, any more than I want to hear about Hannah. But…you have to know that's why that happened. I should have believed you. I should have believed in you. You've never, ever let me down, Chuck. Ever." I lifted my face to meet his eyes. "Ever."
He just looked at me, gazing into my eyes. I could see he was emotional, his wet eyes glistening in the low light. "Do you remember what I told you, a long time ago, in your hotel room? I know who you are. I did then. I think I always did. That's the person I fell in love with."
"I'm…a killer, Chuck. An assassin. Graham turned me into an assassin—" My eyes were closed again, my voice trembling.
"Look at me," he whispered, even more intense than last time. "He tried. And he forced you into a life full of horror and death and loneliness…and you still always thought of everyone else before yourself. If you were as bad as you think, you wouldn't feel the way you do. You are beautiful Sarah, inside and out. With the darkness inside you. You can let it go, but it's part of who you are…and I love all of you."
He kissed me soundly.
I was still trembling, my throat aching from his words. Even if I could have found the strength to say the words, my own voice would have failed me.
He acknowledged my pain, my darkness. He offered to release it, and then promised me I didn't need to…not to earn his love, or keep it. That love was the greatest gift, to this day, that I have ever received. It saved my life, both physically and literally, multiple times.
When I could finally speak, that was what I said. I grabbed his hand and held it. "You saved my life. And I don't just mean in Paris."
Opening up was hard, painful even. But already I felt closer to him. I wanted this, always. We were on the path together.
Soft, delicate kisses gradually heated us up. But the way he made love to me after that conversation…no words accurately describe the tenderness or the emotion. We were telling each other our feelings by acting them out. I would never think of sex or intimacy the same way again.
He claimed me for his own, loving every inch of my body. He was part of me…my heart and my soul. And the manifestation of that was us, interlocked, fused together, climbing into another level of being.
I knew then and there, no one but him would ever touch me like this. I was his. I fumbled around with words and fear of commitment because I was so terrible at communicating, and fearful that because I had never wanted anything as much, that losing it would end me. But in my heart, I was his. Always.
Again, something I should have told him. If he had known that, he wouldn't have worried so much about my apparent uncertainty. I had to learn slowly.
It had been over an hour of him, slowly thrusting into me, building my arousal to an impossible height, lavishing me with his love. My climax, when it finally came, at the same time as him, brought tears to my eyes. It was so intense and lasted for so long. My body completely released, soaking us as we lay together afterwards, something I had never experienced before.
I laid, shuddering in his arms, struggling to collect myself, to move or communicate.
It didn't even bother him. He shushed me, held me against his chest, understanding on a level without words. We fell asleep like that. The sheets were dry in the morning.
He got playful the next morning, probably because he relaxed a little bit about the sexual aspect of our relationship.
"I have an idea," he chuckled. "I was thinking about what you said yesterday."
"About me being in control?" I asked.
His eyes widened. "Will you let me finish, woman?" he teased. I giggled. It was very cute when he talked to me that way. "About…touching yourself." His voice deepened.
I blushed this time. "My vibrator is in Burbank."
"You mean, you didn't pack it with your spy gear? Like a vibrator that's also a laser gun or dart thrower or something…" He laughed heartily.
"Could you imagine?" I laughed in return. "Talk about friendly fire."
We broke down laughing so hard we were almost crying. My sides ached and I couldn't catch my breath. I'd never felt so good.
"Yeah…I'm serious." Chuck settled, but turned to look at me, and his eyes were on fire. His voice dropped, thick with desire. "Show me how you touch yourself. How you would do it…when you were wishing I was there with you in your bed in the hotel…"
"Chuck…" My whole body was burning.
"Touch yourself," he whispered against my ear and I shivered.
Slowly, I lifted my legs, bending my knees and laying my feet flat on the bed. He angled himself to lean over my side, a perfect view between my legs. I closed my eyes.
I had done this for Sam, in the very beginning, with my hands and my vibrator. It was how, I believed, he knew I would enjoy being fucked from behind.
This felt different. It was both easier, because I was more comfortable with Chuck, and harder, because I cared so much what Chuck thought.
He loves you. He wants this. That was enough to convince me. I realized then, I would do just about anything for him.
I slid my index finger down over my pubic bone and buried it in my folds. I dipped my finger into the wet puddle at my opening and then slid it to my clit. I started a slow massage.
"Are you wet?" He asked me.
He was talking me through it. So sexy I was melting into a puddle.
"Yes." I moaned softly.
"Pound it. Hammer that little pearl until it explodes."
I moaned, his sweet dirty talk driving me wild. I picked up the pace, vigorously massaging myself. The moisture on my sensitive skin made an audible lapping noise.
"You're so wet I can hear it. And your close. You're holding your breath…and you do that right before you come…"
It was like he was making it happen with his words. I swelled, almost itching, and then my orgasm exploded inside me. I moaned and jammed my fingers inside me and started pumping. "Oh…oh…"
"It feels good…so good…so soft, so wet, so…tight…"
The agony of my incomplete masturbation was over. He was here. He was here and I wanted him badly.
"I need you inside me." I gasped. "Please, Chuck…hurry."
He rolled over and entered me in one swift motion. I sighed with relief, the fullness of his cock inside me the missing part. He hugged me to him and rolled back, hoisting me on top of him.
I rode him hard, grinding against him. I came, fast and furious. I felt him slide a finger inside my ass. I gasped, surprised. He waited, I think unsure because of my reaction. I moaned, because it felt so good, better than I could have thought.
No one had ever touched me like this, outside of myself.
He probed me, in and out, while I bounced on him. My orgasm clenched my ass around his finger. My mind went blank at how good it felt.
He finished, crying out and I collapsed on top of him.
When I caught my breath, I asked, "Do you want anal sex?"
"Now?!" he gasped. I giggled at how adorable that was.
"I mean in general. Have you ever…"
He was blushing furiously. I knew the answer, and the details, so I didn't ask for elaboration.
But I had to ask, "Did you like it?"
He sputtered. "I dare you to find me a man who doesn't." He laughed and sputtered again. "On second thought, don't. I have a feeling it might be Casey."
"Oh, ick, Chuck," I teased. "I will never stop picturing that now."
We laughed and laughed again.
"Have you…ever…"
He didn't mean it as a loaded question, but because I omitted my crazy years with the CATS and blacked-out episodes of orgy-like sex, it was highly possible. Carina's favorite sex position back then had been a man on either side, filling both holes. I didn't remember it if I did, so I shook my head.
"It's painful at first, no matter what you do. That just bothered me, causing someone pain for my own pleasure."
"Let me guess, it wasn't your idea," I said.
"No," he answered in a clipped tone. I stopped talking like that. It was obviously Jill. It painted an awful picture. Somehow it suited her. I wondered if she somehow internally needed the pain as a self-punishment for what she did to him.
Or, maybe, she was selfish enough to want that kind of pleasure even though she knew it made him uncomfortable. Her utter disregard and taking him for granted.
"Would you ever…with me?" I asked.
"Sarah—"
"Just think about it. We don't have any lubrication with us anyway."
He laughed wickedly. "Well…you don't need it for anything else."
I giggled. "That's your fault." I paused. "Will you think about it?"
"Oh, don't worry, I'll be thinking about it, alright."
Another fit of hysterical laughter overcame us.
I had never felt so happy. I was truly happy at last, for the first time in my life.