Stepping back into the Sarkney fandom feels like coming home and what a better way to start the New Year than with a little Sarkney action. Set in S2 I own nothing and mean no harm. This is part of my Kiss series that incorporates the same dialogue and scenario across several fandoms. Please enjoy and review.
Another holiday, another office party, another evening spent with cheap wine and too many loose tongues. Sark was bored, bored and veering towards annoyed. Sloan had however insisted that he attend tonight's festivities.
Keep up the face of company unity and all that. As if any of the frowning faces across that absurdly large office table gathered any sincerity from his presence.
"I'm pretty sure I want to kiss you."
Sydney Bristow's voice was quite possibly the last he had ever expected to hear uttering those words. Glancing over his shoulder he met her eyes, surprised that they there was only a slight sheen of alcohol over her eyes, inebriation therefore was not to be blamed for the words.
"Do you now?"
Agent Bristow was alarmingly close, he felt the warmth of her bare arm through the silk of his suit, and he was startled to see that in heels they stood eye to eye.
None of those revelations reflected in his eyes though, no, his face was as cool and calm as ever.
"I do."
As if to emphasize her point, not that he needed any more clarification as to the very scope of her implication, she wrapped her arms around his waist and dropped her chin on his shoulder.
"Well," they were sharing what could only be described as an intimate position, one he had not shared with anyone before, not that he could recall anyway, and it was slightly difficult to recall much when her breath was on his neck and her nails were scratching over his abs.
"So what are you going to do if I do huh?"
There was a definite lilt of humor in her tone, but they were out in the open, not ideal for a seduction, and she knew him better enough than to try to turn him through his cock.
"I don't know."
An absolute truth, he had no idea what was happening between them, not even she appeared in front of him, dimples in full force, and her arms wound around his neck.
"I can't wait to find out."
The curse was uttered in automatically in Russian and he was glad he hadn't spoken it aloud, it would have made even a sailor blush. But then she was kissing him, Sydney Bristow was kissing him, he reacted under a second. Cupping her face in his face, he tilted her head, slipping his tongue between her lips.
He didn't know what this was about but he was not about to turn away the taste of the woman who had been haunting his dreams for years.
"Happy New Year!"
Credit Dauphine was erupting in cheer, but it was lost to him, to them, lost as they were in a haze of touches and tongues.
They parted only when air became a necessity, the slap he expected never came, nor did she run off gun in hand; no, not Sydney Bristow, she decided to drop her head onto his shoulder and hum the irritating song that he never remembered all the words too.
Whatever had possessed her to do this he had no way of knowing, but he intended to ask her, repeatedly and in several languages, preferable while she was naked and riding his cock. This was one door she had chosen to open and this New Year he had every intention of walking through it.
When her song turned into a fit of giggles, the lot of which was pressed into his neck, he couldn't hold back the moan at the contact between her mouth and his skin.
He kissed her temple, whispering into her hair, "What am I going to do with you?"
She laughed, her arms slipping around his waist to cupping his ass, she squeezed a tad bit rougher than she needed to. An excellent answer, this New Year was definitely showing promise.