Stop stealing my LJ! (auchic) wrote,
Stop stealing my LJ!

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This belongs to Becca! This is the thanks for millions of hours of beta-ing, brainstorming and other crazy nights chatting on MSN. It's unbeta-ed, but who cares? Have fun, all!

Title: SD-Sex
Author: Auchic
Rating: Totally NC-17. PWP. Sex, smut, porn, erotica, whatever you wanna call it.
Summary: Sark and Sydney have lots of nasty sex while Ky looks desperately for a plot
Spoilers: Set after 2.07-'Counteragent'
Disclaimer: Not mine. Never mine. Sark=mine.
Distribution: Ask and ye shall receive. My loyalties are flexible, but stealing from me is not. No touchy or I go all banner ad on your ass.


When Sark pulled into his stall in the Credit Dauphine parking complex, he was on the verge of insanity.

He rarely regretted his decisions, but right now he was coming damned close to wishing he’d never heard of Arvin Sloane and SD-6. He hated working there, with its ever-growing list of rules. He hated being treated like a menial pup by some of the older operatives. He really hated LA; the smog, the traffic jams, the scores of annoying people, the unpredictable and uncomfortable weather. Honestly, he didn’t know why people were so idealized with the thought of living there, near all the movie stars and the ocean and the palm trees. One week of living there, even in his high-class townhouse, and Sark was dreaming of his house on the quiet English countryside. If it weren’t for the carefully laid out plans, he’d haul his ass back to Europe as fast as he could. There was nothing keeping him in LA. Except for…

He groaned quietly and let his head fall forward onto his steering wheel. He was already late today, one more minute wouldn’t matter. No, he told himself. That was not the reason he stayed. The plan. Get what he needed from Sloane and then run SD-6 to the ground. That was what he was in for. Not…

He groaned again as his most recent fantasy flitted across his mind again. Oh, who the fuck was he kidding? There were other ways to get the damned intel that was needed. He heard a screech of tires and raised his head in time to see a familiar vehicle fly past his car. God. He wasn’t fooling anyone. The only thing keeping him in LA and SD-6 was the heart-breaking proximity to one Sydney A. Bristow. Oh, it wasn’t because she welcomed any type of attention from him. Agent Sydney hated him from the first moment they met face to face and her feelings didn’t change any now that they were co-workers. Especially since they became co-workers because he happened to screw her over, at least in her eyes. In his defense, Sark had every intention of killing Arvin Sloane; he just wanted to use the old bastard as much as he could before offing him.

He heard a car door slam and it jolted him out of his reverie. Crap. Sydney was going to have to walk right by his car to get to the elevator, and he wasn’t about to be sitting there, looking like an ass as she walked by. Besides, he felt like torturing himself a bit with a ride in a nice, enclosed elevator, standing close enough to smell her, perhaps “accidentally” touch her, maybe even throw her up against the wall and taste her…

NO! Shit. He grabbed his briefcase and jumped out of his car before he could let his mind go any farther. As he made sure his car was locked and the alarms were set, Sydney practically ran by without even a glance in his direction. It was actually kind of funny to see perfect Agent Bristow so late. He wondered what had happened to make it so. Probably up all night crying over that bastard of a handler she had at the CIA. When he finally met her, Sark couldn’t believe that such a smart, capable, snarky woman acted that way over a waste of a man. Once Sark took care of Sloane, he’d have so much fun killing Michael Vaughn before the idiot agent turned Sydney into a useless woman. And of course by then, Sydney would have finally gotten her head on straight and would be working with Sark, WORKING in every sense of the word…

He shook his head from his fucked fantasies again and walked faster to the elevators. The doors had just opened and Sydney stepped inside. When she saw Sark coming, she began furiously pushing the “close door” button, hoping it would close before he came. Sark’s heart began to pound. He wasn’t going to let her deprive him of his daily one-on-one time with her. He picked up the pace and slid himself between the doors just as they closed. He smirked and almost had the urge to stick his tongue out at her. God, it was weird how being near her could turn him into a mindless pre-teen.

“Thank you for holding the lift for me, Agent Bristow,” Sark said, slightly breathlessly from having to rush. She scowled without looking at him. He just smiled wider. God, pissing her off was so much fun, it basically held the equivalent of flirting with them. He preferred this interaction with Sydney. It was fun. As the elevator began to descend, he leaned a little in her direction. “A bit late this morning, aren’t we?”

This time she looked. She had a fierce glare. “Look who’s talking,” she shot at him.

“Actually, I’m right on time. Mr. Sloane lets me keep my own hours,” Sark replied easily. Sloane didn’t either, but Sydney didn’t know that. It was just a way to get her more worked up: the idea that Sark got extra privileges that the rest of them didn’t.

He thought he heard her mumble, “Bullshit,” under her breath, but he didn’t call her on it. The way her eyes were shooting daggers into the metal doors, the next teasing remark out of his mouth could earn him a sucker punch to the balls. And while he had imagined Sydney touching him down there, that wasn’t QUITE what he had envisioned.

He was contemplating what he should say next, whether it should be something neutral or teasing again, when the elevator gave an almighty jolt. Sark stumbled and dropped his briefcase; Sydney fell back against the wall. The lights flickered a few times then blinked off completely. The elevator came to a complete stop.

“What the HELL did you do, Sark?” Sydney’s voice came from the corner.

“ME? Why would you automatically accuse me of this, Agent Bristow? Contrary to popular belief, I’m not Satan, and I don’t have supernatural powers at my beck and call.” She just snorted.

The elevator shuddered again, then a green emergency light came on, bathing both of them in an eerie glow. Sark could hear emergency bells ringing faintly above them. He punched some of the buttons on the panel, but nothing happened. He picked up the emergency phone, but there was no sound, not even static. “I think we’re stuck,” he commented.

“No shit, Sark,” Sydney spat. He turned toward her and saw that she was backed into the corner farthest away from him, her arms crossed and a look of feral hate on her face. Christ, what was making her so bitchy today? She was even more evil than usual. He cocked his eyebrow at her. And was it really fair that she was still so sexy and desirable when she was standing there, actively hating him?

He was just about to ask her what her damned problem was when her cell phone began to ring. She glared once more at him before turning away and answering it. “Hello? Oh, hey Dad…no…no, I’m in the elevator…yes, I did…how long are we going to be in here?…why, what happened?…no, Sark’s in here too…yes…yes…I know, Dad…okay, well, just try to get us out as soon as you can, okay?” She slapped her tiny phone closed, then threw it hard against the door, screaming.

“Bad news, I take it?” Sark asked mildly. He had just enough time to duck when first one, then the other spiky high heel shoe came soaring, aimed at his head. “What the HELL is wrong with you?” he yelled.

She stomped over, picked up her shoes and proceeded to throw them at him again. “Because,” she came at him, one spike heel bared to puncture his head, “I am STUCK,” he fell and rolled away from the on-coming threat, “in this goddamned elevator,” she threw the shoe again, aiming for his crotch, “for six HOURS,” she whipped around to grab her second shoe and he scrambled to his feet behind her, “with YOU!”

He managed to grab her wrists before she beat him to death with her shoe. “Stop it,” he said. She kicked his knee sideways and he used her steadiness to keep him from falling. She was trying to wriggle away when he used his iron grip on her arms and pushed her against the back wall. “Sydney, stop acting like a child!”

She immediately stopped and raised her chin, giving him a prim look. “I’m not acting like a child,” she said snootily, “and don’t call me Sydney.” She wrenched her arms from his grasp, picked up her shoes and stalked to the other side of the elevator, far from him. He gave her another good smirk before her words caught up to him, causing him to silence a groan.

SIX HOURS. That’s what she had said. Just his goddamned luck, he was stuck in a 12-by-12 box with her for a good quarter of the day. He could barely keep himself under control having her in the same office; this was going to kill him.

Right. Just calm down, he told himself. He kicked off his shoes, sat down on the floor and opened his briefcase, pulling out the files he’d been working on last night. He could feel Sydney giving him death glares, but he ignored her. Six hours being trapped in this metal prison, he needed something to take his mind off of her.

Two hours went by. Amazingly, Sark was able to keep his mind on the incredibly boring paperwork and not the sexy goddess that was sitting 10 feet away from him. He had glanced up occasionally to see that she had done the same as him: pulled out stuff to work on. Of course, SHE didn’t have his same problem of uncontrollable lust. Ah well.

He rolled his head around, cracking his neck. Sweat that had been gathering along his hairline trickled down his shirt. He brushed a hand over his forehead. The enclosed space was stuffy, and the summer weather wasn’t helping. If the whole building was out of power, the air conditioner must be out too. He took off his suit jacket and loosened his tie. A little bit of air caressed his damp skin and he breathed lightly. Sydney looked up and scowled at him. He rolled his eyes. She may be deliciously gorgeous, but she could sure be a bitch for no reason.

15 minutes later, he was dying again. He knew Sydney was going to freak, but he needed to think about his own welfare. He took his tie off and started to undo the buttons on his dress shirt. He undid the cufflinks and then shrugged his shirt off his torso. It felt like sheer heaven to get the heavy material off his skin. He lay his head back against the wall and mentally counted the seconds until…

“WHAT in GOD’S name are you DOING?!?”

Twenty-three seconds. She was slipping.

Sark opened his eyes. “In case you’ve failed to notice, Agent Bristow, it’s unbearably hot in here, and while you might not care about the state of your own clothing,” he gave her a smirk as he took in her navy skirt and jacket, “I’m not about to ruin mine.”

He had just enough time to duck as once again, her shoes came flying toward his head. She looked ready to attack him, but seemed unwilling to come over to his side of the elevator. He gave her a smug smile as he gathered her shoes out of reach. “Manolo Blahnik,” he commented. “You have wonderful taste in weapons. And footwear.”

He heard her breath come out in a long hiss. “Put your shirt back on,” she gritted out.

“No,” he said, and picked up the file he’d been reading.

“Sark! Put your goddamned shirt on!”

He just stretched his long legs out in front of him and held his folder up higher. He had to bite his lip to keep from smiling when she made a frustrated little scream. If it wasn’t so insanely hot, he could stay there all day and bug her. Err…scratch that.

He kept reading until he was sure she had settled down enough, so that he could go back to surreptitiously spying on her. He could hear her moving around a lot, but he refrained from looking up and giving her another chance to give him hell for not doing anything at all. So he settled back with his file and proceeded to read.

He had only glanced her way briefly when the file slid from his hands and his mouth dropped open. Holy fuck.

Sydney was now laying on her side, concentrating on some papers she had in front of her. She had taken off her heavy blazer and was simply clothed in a thin white camisole top. And, Sark looked closer…good Christ, she wasn’t wearing a bra! He could see her nipples clearly outlined. Her legs were stretched out along her and her skirt had ridden up higher on her leg. Her head was propped on one hand and the other was absently twirling a strand of her luscious hair around. If he didn’t know any better, he’d swear she was doing it on purpose.

Good god. He shifted a bit and tried not to groan when his pants dragged across his cock, already hard against the material. This was very not good. All Sydney had to do was glance up and she’d see the tent in his lap. He needed to do…something about this, but they were trapped in that damned elevator for another four hours or so.

He stood. Sitting was getting painful and he was hoping that pacing could take off some of the harder edge. He scrambled to his feet and took quick steps back and forth. He wasn’t looking at Sydney, but the image of her sprawled out like that was burned into his mind. He wanted to push her down and straddle her waist while he buried his head between those beautiful breasts and drove into her hard…

He gulped and pressed his head against the metal doors. His breath was coming out in short pants now and if he didn’t get out of there soon, he was going to burst.

“What’s wrong with you now?” Sydney’s cool voice came from behind him.

“Needed to stretch my legs,” he said gruffly, not turning back to her. His cock throbbed and twitched, aching for some sort of touch and he was ready to smash his head through the doors of the elevator. He needed to get OUT, now.

“Yeah, well, just stay on YOUR side,” Sydney said, and that did it. Maybe if he eased up some of the sexual tension in the room, he could feel a LOT better than what he did now.

“Oh, excuse me, Miss Bristow, but I wasn’t aware that you had property rights on the elevator floor,” Sark knew he sounded like a bratty sibling, but the tension and his erection were killing him.

“Maybe I just don’t want your evil to permutate my side, okay? I’m not about to trust you just because we’re stuck inside this stupid box.” Oh, Sydney was really laying it on thick today.

Sark turned his head and shot her a look. “Are you afraid I’m going to ravage you, Sydney?”

“I’m not going to put it past you. And I told you not to call me Sydney.”

“Please,” Sark pushed away from the door, getting frustrated at her attitude. “I may have done some unseemly things, AGENT Bristow, but I’m not about to get my head blown off for something I can get without using force. Or are you saying that you won’t be able to trust yourself around me, hmmm?”

Sydney stood up now too, her eyes glittering anger. “Don’t flatter yourself, Sark.”

“Says the woman who is so convinced that I was about to pin her down and take advantage of her…”

“I did NOT say that, you twisted freak!”

“Oh, and that comment about ‘infecting you with evil’ or whatever you said…”

“I didn’t say that EITHER!”

At this point, they were inches away from each other, shouting in the other person’s face. Being this close, Sark could smell every inch of her, but he was swiftly being distracted by her screaming at him. “I’m getting quite tired of the insults, AGENT Bristow. Have I done anything to you personally in these past few months of working together?” He bit off the last word, his nose nearly brushing against hers.

Sydney opened her mouth to retort back, but Sark made the mistake of shifting from one foot to another and his body managed to brush against hers; very lightly, but enough. Her eyes widened in disbelief. “Are you getting turned on by this, Sark?”

Oh crap. Oooohhhh, fuck. He wanted to make some sort of smart remark but he was frozen. “No?” he said weakly.

Sydney’s eyes narrowed. “Liar,” she said. Without warning, her hand came down and cupped him through his pants, drawing out a long-awaited groan from him. She squeezed gently as she leaned forward and licked his neck. “You expect me to start trusting you when you lie to me all the time?”

He was dreaming. He had to be. Anytime now, his stupid evil alarm would go off and he’d be stretched out in his bed. That was the only plausible solution, because there was no way in HELL that Sydney Bristow would be sucking on his collarbone while her hands undid his pants.

And now his pants and his boxers were down around his knees and her hand was wrapped around his shaft, stroking him so so slowly while her mouth turned its attention to his earlobe. Her other hand was traveling up and down his chest, stopping to twist one nipple with her fingers. He couldn’t help himself, and his hips began to move slowly with her hand. Any moment he was going to be waking up and he wanted this to last for as long as it could…

And he must have done SOMETHING right lately because Sydney’s tongue was trailing down his chest as she lowered herself to her knees. He sagged and found the wall was behind him, holding him up for support. He didn’t stop the moan from escaping when her mouth, hot and wet, opened up and wrapped around the head of his cock. At this point, he didn’t WANT the dream to end, he didn’t want anything to disturb this wonderful moment.

His eyes closed and his head fell back when she slid her mouth down farther, her hand stroking the heated flesh that her mouth hadn’t touched yet. Her tongue swirled around the swollen head as she sucked on him gently. He was going to die. He was going to die a very very happy man.

He caught his breath and looked down at her with hooded eyes. She had one hand on his hip, her thumb caressing the skin there in slow circles. She looked up at him and winked when their eyes met. He couldn’t breathe. She tilted her head to the side and suddenly his entire cock was sliding into her mouth. He was going to pass out. “Sydney…” he groaned. She answered by letting her teeth scrape along his length as she pulled back.

He caught his senses a bit and dropped one hand to rest in her hair. If this WASN’T a dream, which he was slowly realizing could be very true, he wasn’t going to act like this never happened to him. Although, now that he had some brain cells back to think about it, this was quite possibly the best blowjob he’d ever received, and he doubted it was just because Sydney was attached to the mouth currently working on him.

His hand threaded through her silky hair and, as if she could read his mind, she let him gently move her head over his cock. Her free hand ran up and down his leg and his stomach, all the way up to find the nipple she’d been playing with before and tweaking it with her fingers. She made a contented humming noise around his penis and he choked on his breath. God, the vibrations of that nearly had him coming right there and then.

Her head bobbed faster, working in harmony with her hand, twisting and stroking in all the right spots. He was delirious. The room was spinning. She worked her faster rhythm, then slowed right down, pulling him out completely to let her tongue travel down the entire underside of the shaft in that delicious manner she had. She gave him another wink before taking him back in and swallowing his cock down again.

This was too much. The stimulation of her expert mouth was driving him nuts. He couldn’t even warn her when the pressure burst out of control. He came with a shout, his back stiffening and his hips thrusting forward one last time. Sydney kept her mouth firmly attached around his engorged head, and through his glazed eyes he could see her swallowing. God that was hot.

He didn’t even know how long it went on for but eventually his body fell back in exhaustion. He let out a huge breath and stared at the woman who hated him so much, and yet had just tortured him to orgasm. Sydney was sitting back on her heels, her chest heaving up and down and her eyes glowing with lust. As he watched, she brought her hand up to her mouth and drew one finger over the corner of her lips, where a tiny bit of his milky semen had clung. Without breaking their eye connection, she brought the finger to her mouth and sucked it off.

That did it. He dropped to his knees before her and grabbed her hips, pulling her in close. “That was naughty, Sydney. And you accuse ME of taking advantage of you?”

She laughed. “Don’t act like you didn’t like it,” she purred, her hands running up and down his arms and coming to rest in his hair. “I’d prove it to you, but it seems all the evidence has disappeared.”

He cut off her laughter by kissing her. She kissed back passionately, her tongue sliding along his in a vaguely familiar manner. He broke away and pressed heated kisses down her skin as she continued to laugh breathlessly. “I suppose you still hate me,” he murmured into her neck.

“Mmm…passionately, fervently, achingly,” she moaned, her fingers tightening in his hair.

“Well,” he gasped, his tongue running over the top of her breasts, “this is better than name calling.” And before she could reply he dropped his head and his mouth found her silk covered nipple. He swirled his tongue around, then brought it in more, sucking it taut. Sydney moaned, then pressed herself closer, straddling his lap and grinding her hips down.

“Yes…yes…” she whimpered when he moved over to her other breast. His hand came up from her hips to massage the breast he had just pampered. Sydney’s head fell back in delight as he sucked and nuzzled her through her thin top. She moved her body harder against his and his erection, which had really never gone completely away, throbbed.

“Okay,” she panted, and pulled his head back. Quickly she shed her camisole and as his head dove back to her uncovered breasts, her hands frantically worked at the fastenings to her skirt. He heard a tiny scream and then something ripping and then his hands were running up and down her naked body. Christ. She wasn’t even wearing panties. He slid a hand between her parted legs and pressed into her; she cried out and he shivered at how hot she was.

Oh, he wanted to make this last for the entire four more hours they had left, but naked Sydney writhing on his lap was not helping with that. He brought his head up and caught her lips for a long, hot kiss. Her arms wound tight around his neck as he laid her down on the floor, stretching out over her. He kicked his pants the rest of the way off his legs and resumed his attentions on her breasts. “Damn it, Sark,” she groaned, but before she could push him back and take control, he parted her legs, moved his hips and slowly pushed inside of her.

“Oh god,” he groaned as he sank his cock deep into her. She was already gasping and bucking beneath him, so he began to thrust quickly. Her hands seemed to be everywhere: his back, his hair, his chest, his arms, and her mouth was trying to attach itself to any piece of skin it could. He was moving hard and fast but she seemed to want him to do more. He obliged as much as he could, leaving her unraveling around him. He kissed her again as his hand fell between them and began a furious assault on her clit. He swallowed her cries and pistoned his hips harder, meeting hers violently.

Suddenly a barrage of noises broke through their lips as she climaxed. She shrieked and moaned as the waves of pleasure overtook her. “Sark…Sark…please…” she panted, and he pressed his fingers down again when her hips came up. She screamed again, and the feeling of her coming apart around him was all his poor, over-stimulated body could take. He gave one last thrust before letting go and spilling deep inside of her. He just let his tired body fall on hers, his head making a pillow of her breasts as he struggled to catch his breath. She stayed limp underneath him, her body winding down with little tremors coursing through her.

The combination of the heat, his resting place and the fact that he had just had two mind-blowing orgasms settled heavy around Sark and he closed his eyes lazily. Sydney started to laugh again beneath him and tugged on his hair. “Typical male,” she giggled. “Don’t you dare fall asleep on me.”

He slid his body up, aligning with hers and ducked his face down to press his lips into her neck. “Hoping for a little post-coital play, Agent Bristow?”

“Mmm…or a little foreplay, either one works,” she murmured, as her hands ran down his back. When they reached his buttocks, she spread her fingers and squeezed him up as hard as she could, the tips of her fingernails digging into the sensitive flesh. He groaned in pain and dug his teeth into her shoulder for retaliation. She squeaked, then quickly pushed him down on his back and straddled him. “That wasn’t nice,” she pouted.

“You started it,” he smirked, and sat up, pulling her head down so he could kiss her again. She started to rock her hips against his body again, his cock rubbing against her wet sex. She was getting him hard again. He broke from her lips and let his mouth lavish its attention on her breasts again, his hand making up on the one he didn’t have in his mouth. Her hands played in his hair again as her hips moved back and forth gently.

Well, he sure as hell wasn’t dreaming, but this was still the most surreal thing he could imagine. Sydney was still laughing every so often above him and he had to wonder if she was on any kinds of drugs or something. Maybe someone had slipped her some inhibition-lowering substance. He’d like to believe that she was doing this because of her irresistible attraction to him, but he wasn’t the type to kid himself. Most likely the sexual tension between her and Agent Yawn was driving her insane and she had jumped the first body available. They’d fuck a couple more times, then get rescued and she’d come by his office the next day, hold a knife to his throat and tell him it was a one-time thing, it’ll never happen again and if he mentions it to anyone, he’ll lose a very crucial body part.

He’d regret later. Right now he was busy learning every inch of Sydney’s skin. SOMETHING was going to have to get him through the rest of his days in LA.

Sydney must have noticed his less-than-complete attention on her breasts, because she wrapped her fingers around his hairs and pulled his head back a bit. “You know, if you’d stop thinking so much, this could be a lot more fun.”

He tilted his head back and looked up at her. “I would, if you’d stop giving me things to think about.” He followed that remark with an upward thrust of his hips.

Sydney stopped her sensual little movements and sat back a bit, her hands coming down to rest on his chest. “What do you want me to say, Sark?” she asked softly, and he cocked his head at her tone. She sounded weary, and a bit guilty.

He bit his lip. Shit. He was going to have to lay it all out on the line here without freaking her out. “Even though you probably don’t believe it to be true, Sydney, I do suffer human feelings.” She opened her mouth to speak, but he brought his hand up and covered her lips with it. “I’m not asking for declarations of love or anything of the sort because I’m not about to give them to you myself. All I’m asking is how far is this going to go?” Well fuck. This was about as close to a fucking heart-to-heart that Julian Sark would ever get. Somehow in the back of his mind he knew it would be Sydney that would be on the receiving end.

Sydney looked hard at him, one eyebrow raised. Then she smirked and leaned forward, letting her lips gently brush against his. “Let’s just take this one day at a time, hmm?” she murmured as she kissed a path down his neck.

He frowned slightly at her non-answer. He HADN’T been expecting her to profess her undying love and devotion, but he was hoping for an answer to her VERY sudden mood change. Maybe it wasn’t the best idea for them to have this talk while she was naked and grinding in his lap but he had had her attention, something he couldn’t guarantee when they left the elevator.

Sharp nails dug into the hypersensitive skin on the back of his neck and he yelped. Sydney laughed in response against his shoulder. “You’re thinking too much again.”

Oh, so that was the way she wanted it. He wrapped his hand in her hair and brought her face back up, then melded their lips together for a searing kiss. She began to move again, too slowly for his liking and Sark decided he had had enough. He brought his hands to her hips and lifted her slightly. She reached down and helped, her hand wrapped tightly around his cock as he let her down and slid inside of her again.

She tossed her head back and purred when he was fully sheathed. “Let’s go for a ride,” she breathed, and he had to laugh. He knew enough about bad pornographic movies to recognize a cheesy line when he heard it, and even coming from Sydney’s mouth couldn’t make it sexy. She seemed to realize this as well and just smiled provocatively before slowly moving herself up and down.

Sark leaned back on one arm as she moved, enjoying the sight of Sydney’s naked breasts bouncing gently in front of him. He wasn’t really a fetishist of any kind, but he knew he could become very attached to Sydney’s beautiful mounds of flesh. She seemed to notices his pre-occupation and shifted her hips forward before starting her motions again. Sark slid his free hand up her side as his head descended to taste her rosy nipples.

As much as Sark was liking this aspect of worshipping Sydney, he was relatively-no, scratch that-damned close to the edge and her little lap dancing/grinding was doing nothing more than frustrating him and his poor cock. He had just made the decision to roll them over and started fucking with a little more passion when her damned cell phone began to ring. They both froze, staring at each other, then suddenly Sydney pushed his shoulders, slamming him flat on his back. He couldn’t hold back the moans of pure pleasure when she started to ride him hard like he’d been wanting. He was so close now, he could just reach it…

She stopped, poised above him with just the throbbing head of him still inside of her. He thought he would die. She had stopped! Did she not know that she was killing him? Very slowly she lowered herself so that he was buried to the hilt, then raised herself up again just as slowly, rhythmically tensing and relaxing her inner muscles. Sark’s eyes rolled up into the back of his head with mind-numbing pleasure. As she continued her slow torture of his aching body, she leaned over and grabbed her phone which amazingly was still ringing.

“Hello?” she answered coolly, as if she was sitting properly at her desk instead of slowly fucking one of her worst enemies to death. Sark, thinking more about his impending release than whoever she was talking to, tried to grab her hips and force her to a much more agreeable pace, but she caught his wrists with one hand and pinned them above his head, leaning over him again. This was very nice, as it left those luscious breasts dangling close enough for him to taste and he did, very exuberantly. This, of course, distracted him from whatever Sydney was saying into her phone, but he really didn’t give a damn about that anyway. He tugged on one swollen nipple, getting a shuddering half-moan from her and he smirked. God, he sincerely hoped it was Michael Fucking Vaughn on the other end, just for the sheer pleasure it would give Sark to know that she would do that.

He was half out of his mind when she threw her cell phone again and let his hands go as she propped hers on his chest and began to move faster. She didn’t protest this time when he gripped her hips, just dug her fingernails into his skin until he cried out. Despite the pain, Sark found this intensely arousing and he moved his hips faster under her, panting and straining to come. It didn’t take much; his poor over-excited body succumbed to her passionate rocking and he exploded for the third time. He nearly passed out from the exhaustion but he could feel Sydney still working above him, struggling for her own release. He wasn’t good for much, but he moved a hand down to the apex of her legs and pressed the pad of his thumb over her swollen clit, letting the friction of her moving and his pressure finish her off. It took a little more effort than he really could give but he felt smug satisfaction spread through him when she froze, tensed and cried out. When she had rode out all the shockwaves, she collapsed hard on his chest and Sark wrapped his arms around her waist to keep her close.

The feel of her naked body against his was enough for him to forget that they were trapped in this elevator for what seemed to be eternity, that he was one day going to have to choose to betray her or join her, that she was most likely going to turn her back once they were out of there and completely forget this all happened. He was ready to snuggle in and have a nice long nap coupled with some wake-up sex but for some odd reason Sydney’s phone call was nagging at the back of his mind. It might ruin the nice post-sex mood that they had going on if he asked, but better now than later. “Sydney,” he murmured, getting a mouthful of hair in the process.

The only answer he got was a satisfied purr. He raised one lead-filled hand and poked her hip. “Oy, Bristow, wake up.”

This time he got something that sounded like “Go to hell,” but her lips were mashed against his chest so it was slightly distorted.

He sighed. “Sydney, please, I just want to know who phoned you a few minutes ago?”

This time she squirmed her body until she was facing him, her head resting on her arms crossed over his chest. “Why?” she asked, and she sounded vaguely amused.

He rolled his eyes. “Just humour me.”

She ducked her head into his neck and started nibbling at the skin. Sark was almost sufficiently distracted when she muttered, “It was my father.” Sark relaxed and let himself fall under her spell, enjoying the hand that had fallen down to his cock and was currently giving it a little massage. He was about to reciprocate when she licked his ear and whispered, “He just wanted to let me know that we’d be out of here in fifteen minutes or so.”

“SHIT!” Sark yelled, jumping to his feet and knocking Sydney off into a heap. Fortunately she was giggling and in no way looking to kick his ass as he stood and stared at her.

“What’s wrong with you?” she laughed gaily, laying back on her elbows and looking perfectly enticing, her legs slightly spread and her breasts arched up for him to feast on.

What’s wrong with ME?! What’s wrong with YOU?! he wanted to ask. First she nearly tried to kill him with her heels, then she pounced on him again and again, and now she was willing to get caught consorting naked with him…okay, he was now 90% sure she was under the influence of some sort of mind-altering drug, because this was not typical Sydney Bristow behaviour. And as much as he wanted to lay back down and revel in it forever, the consequences-such as Jack Bristow blowing Sark’s head off at that sight-were not as tempting. He knew he was earning himself the blowoff of all blowoffs, but one had to be rational in these situations, even if one were naked, aroused and being tempted by a gorgeous goddess mere inches away.

He swallowed and grabbed his pants. “I don’t know about you, Sydney, but I could do without your father deciding to castrate me on spot. I’m sure I’ll already lose a precious body part just for sharing the same air space as you.”

Sydney tilted her head and squinted. “Oh.” Her eyes drifted over his body in a hungry way. “Well, I suppose it would be really hard to fuck you if you were missing the important parts, hmmm?”

Sark was in the process of zipping up his pants and he had to concentrate on not catching his rapidly swelling cock in the zipper. He coughed a little and watched her redress out of the corner of his eye. Could she really mean that? She wanted this to continue? He wanted to grab her shoulders and interrogate her, but he remembered her “one day at a time” edict and decided, for the first time in his life, to sit back and let the woman have the control of the relationship. Maybe by letting her hold the reins, he could maintain some kind of emotional distance. If she was calling the shots, he wouldn’t be the one begging for liaisons like a lovesick fool.

Of course, he was pretty much screwed now, because she knew how he felt about her, but he didn’t have to let her lead him around by the balls, right into a cozy dank cell. He could keep sex separate from the office and end up some kind of a winner in the end.

They redressed and cleaned up their effects slowly. Sydney’s skirt was a little torn from her haste to get it off, but she had safety pins in her briefcase and fixed it with little notice. They stood facing the door and shoulder to shoulder, quietly waiting for the elevator to boot up and start again. Sark breathed a silent sigh of regret when they started to move. If only the workmen could of held off for those last two hours!

Just before the lift hit SD-6’s level, Sydney turned and grabbed the front of his shirt, pulling him in for a nasty hot kiss. He was about to screw it all and push her up against the wall again when she moved her mouth to his ear and whispered a date and location, just as the car came to a stop. She pushed him away and as the doors opened to reveal what must have been the entire staff at SD-6, Sydney slapped Sark with all her might across his shocked face and stormed out.

Sark just stood there looking stunned, amused and slightly pissed. Jack gave him the Famous Bristow Glower before following Sydney and most of the other agents hid wide smiles behind hands as they wandered back to their desks, the excitement of the day over. The only person left was Sloane who arched his eyebrow. “I believe Agent Bristow had had enough of my company for a while,” Sark mused, rubbing his hot cheek.

“Yes, well,” Sloane smarmed, taking Sark by the arm and leading him away. “Sydney has had some problems with trust after a few…incidents. But I’m sure you were the perfect gentleman with her, hmmm? No improper advances? As much of an asset I feel you are, Mr. Sark, Sydney is much like a daughter to me and if you were to do anything inappropriate, I would have to take certain actions to prevent it from happening again.”

Sark smirked. “No, Mr. Sloane, despite that slap in front of everyone, the interaction between Agent Bristow and I was…very welcome, indeed.”

Sloane gave him a half-glare and stalked away. Sark went to his desk and fought the urge to put up his feet and let his mind replay his morning. From his seat he had a perfect view of Sydney. As if she could feel him watching, she turned and glared nastily at him while adjusting her skirt so it rode a little higher and gave him a great view of her sexy legs. He just smiled back at her and settled on memorizing her last words.

Too bad this wasn’t listed in the job description or he’d have come to LA a long time ago.

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