Merry Christmas, darling Alias fans! Here's hoping that 2021 is nicer to all of us, eh?
...
Chapter 14: A Very Merry Holiday
Steam rolled through the locker room creating a musty rubbery smell and leaving everything feeling sticky. Vaughn stood at the mirror shaving as drops of water fell from his hair to his shoulders and chest, lines trailing down to soak in the towel wrapped low on his waist.
"Dude, why are you shaving? It's like, eight at night and no one at the Christmas party is gonna care." Weiss resisted the urge to slap his friend's shoulder as he tugged the boxers and then jeans over his hips at the row of lockers opposite the mirror and sinks.
Speaking without moving his mouth, the razor against his upper lip, "mmm not goin'," he mumbled.
Will scoffed. "What? No, no, no, you're supposed to pick up Sydney and then come by. Francie's gonna be pissed."
"She knows we're not coming," Michael grinned and peeked over at the two. "We have plans."
"On Christmas Eve with the biggest party in town and unlimited booze at Francie's restaurant, you have plans? Syd's cool with this?"
Returning the blade to his left cheek and opening his mouth to accommodate, "surprise," was all he said.
The two goaded and bribed as he finished shaving and tossed his rumpled suit back on after running a towel over his hair. Shouldering his bag they made it to the building's exit before Weiss made one last impassioned plea.
"Mike. Drinks...dancing...so many girls for me to hook up with. You can't just abandon your wingman."
Vaughn's brow wrinkled as a frown curled his eyebrows together, "you were never my wingman."
Will tried when Eric failed. "Come by for a little while at least! Her flight's not even in till ten. Your plans can't be as good as Christmas karaoke, man."
"Have fun. Tell me all about it Monday."
The two friends put on their best puppy eyes and drooped the corners of their mouths into an obnoxious pout, Vaughn rolling his eyes and reaching into the crumpled blazer. Their looks turned into curious frowns as their friend frustratedly rifled through the pockets until he found whatever it was he'd been seeking.
The hinge on the velvet box clicked as it opened, and tucked in deep blue silk sat a sparkling diamond atop a silver band. "Can I leave now?"
As if it was their idea, they ushered him to his car and sent him on his way.
…
It had been ages since he'd parked in front of the warehouse, and while his mind was rushing through his thoughts and plans, muscle memory got him there in one piece. Despite the fact that he was early, Jack was waiting for him in his business suit beneath the intimidating black duster. Though Michael had to wonder if the duster itself was intimidating, or if the glaring man inside was imbuing the overcoat with some kind of dark energy.
The air was chilly against his head, his still-wet hair sending a shiver down his spine beneath the oxford. Reaching to grab his blazer, it slid over his shoulders and he was thankful for the warmth of both the coat and the lump poking his chest from the inside pocket.
"Did you have any luck, Jack?"
He didn't hide the hope from his voice as the request he'd put into his soon-to-be father-in-law was the lynchpin of his plan for the evening. Checking his watch, he had around two hours to put the finishing touches on his plan before Sydney would be home from the airport, and while the participation of the man in front of him wasn't required, it would make everything more memorable.
The grumpy man gestured to the back of his sedan, and Vaughn's heart sped up a bit as he hurried the rest of the way with a bounce in his step. While Jack still wholeheartedly disapproved of their relationship, that was at least the vibe he exuded, Michael could count two or three times where the man had tossed aside his animosity to give his daughter a moment of happiness.
Reaching into the backseat he extracted a large, worn box. The writing on top was feminine and nothing like what he'd seen Jack scrawl on papers in the office, so he assumed that the box had been packed by Laura Bristow. The pang hit his heart as he realized that this box hadn't seen the light of day after she'd packed it, meaning that Sydney likely hadn't seen the contents since she was five or six years old.
"That's great, thanks, Jack."
The father set the contents on the ground at his feet, the cardboard jingling, and Vaughn hadn't expected to see the man pull his phone from his pocket and point it in his direction. Leaning in, his heart sank at the message from Kendall.
Let me know when Sydney is available for debrief, we got new intel and need to set a flight.
"I'm assuming that fouls your plans," the father said, a steel-blue stare witnessing the frustration and immediate anger that flashed in the young man's green eyes.
"I know I ask a lot from you, but is there anything you can do?"
"Can you give me a better reason other than 'it's Christmas'? That excuse has already been denied." It was slightly comforting to know that the man had tried.
'Tonight is the night that Jack Bristow shoots me in the face. Not only that, but I went ahead and disposed of my body at a random warehouse for him.'
Jack did genuinely feel bad for the young man despite the fact that he was still trying to be the stoic and unbending, overbearing and antagonistic "girlfriend's father". However prepared he prided himself in being, however, it took everything to keep a steady face when Vaughn reached into his coat and pulled out the palm-sized velvet box. He knew the contents before it was opened, but the delicate ring still widened his eyes.
"I've been trying for over a month without giving it away, which is," he exhaled defeatedly, "is tough enough when the woman you want to marry is a genius, but it hasn't let up. In over a month, she's been gone every few days. Jack…" he stopped, snapping the case closed and shoving it into his pocket.
Jack wanted to say 'too bad' as his base instinct kicked into high gear. "Take the box at least."
The rest of Vaughn's morale was squashed at those words. "How long is the op?"
"A day, maybe two."
Send me instead. She needs a break, Jack. At least...at least fight for her to have a break. I'll go." Hefting the box and walking sullenly back to his car, he heard the harsh sigh from the man behind him and turned.
"No man that's asked for a blessing to marry my daughter has earned it," Jack growled.
Chuckling and shaking his head, Michael slid the box into the back seat. Closing the door a bit harder than intended, though he was angry, he turned to face one of the largest obstacles in his relationship with Sydney with a fiery emerald glare.
"I wasn't asking, Jack. The question is for her, not for you."
Pulling the keys from his pocket with a tinkling jangle, he yanked open the driver-side door as Jack's voice stopped his well-deserved retreat.
"You have it," he tossed over his shoulder, hitting dial and setting the phone to his ear, "and twelve hours if I can get it arranged."
…
Vaughn looked at the decorations he'd put up inside his apartment with an impressed smile. Though he would never laude himself as any kind of interior designer, his apartment mostly picked from a catalog so everything would match, the hanging icicle-like lights bathed the room in a soft glow as they draped over the mantle before running along the high edge of the bookshelves and finally across the top of the hanging window curtains.
The mini bulbs were bright at the source but immediately tapered to highlight the room with a cream-colored hue. It was light enough to see everything clearly while hiding details in soft, rounded shadows, and the whole scene was offset by the brightly lit yet otherwise naked tree in the center of the curtain-closed windows. It seemed so strange to see a Christmas tree with lights but no ornaments, but at the base underneath the lowest bough was the cardboard box marked as 'Christmas Ornaments & Decorations' waiting to be opened and explored.
His heart leaped against his sternum at the sound of her key in the lock, and his hands nervously straightened the dark forest green button-up shirt and contrasting red and white striped tie, wanting to but resisting the desire to run his hand through his likely already unkempt hair. Stepping past the end of the couch into the edge of the foyer with a smile, he waited.
Like a fresh breeze, the door opened and she poured into the apartment while wrangling the bulky suitcase. Facing and locking the door, her arms dropped to her sides and she turned into the comfort of the room with her eyes closed releasing a heavy sigh.
The moment the lids parted, they flew wide and she looked into the living room with an O of surprise on her lips.
"Merry Christmas," he said quietly when her gaze landed on him.
"Vaughn," she started, but stopped as words escaped her.
Dropping her purse beside the bag she took small and tentative steps toward him, her eyes giving him a once-over from top to bottom. He stopped her with a hand, finger pointing up, her eyes following and spotting plastic mistletoe hanging above him. His apartment was on the top floor, so how he got that stuck in the vaulted ceiling piqued her curiosity, and there was a very good chance that the mistletoe would change hands when he moved.
"What is all this?" His arms circled behind her as hers looped loosely around his shoulders.
He didn't respond. Instead, he nodded back up at the plastic leaves with a look of requirement. Her eyes rolled but her smile remained, and as her fingers danced in the short hair at the back of his neck he felt her annoyed sigh when she tugged him down to press their mouths together.
Languidly they reacquainted before breaking apart slowly leaving their foreheads pressed together and bodies flush. "I have a surprise for you," he whispered with a brush of his lips, Sydney pulling back with a smile.
"Is it what I think it is?" The sultry and delicious tone of her voice almost made him throw his plans out the window, but he extracted himself with a chuckle and moved toward the tree as she pulled the coat from her shoulders and moved to hang it near the door. The business style blazer followed and landed atop the suitcase and the shoes were kicked aside as she stepped toward him into the living room.
He first stopped to pour them each a glass of wine, handing her a glass before continuing over to the tree as she huffed with a chuckle. "It's not exactly a Charlie Brown tree, but it's pretty lame. No decorations?"
A wiggling of his eyebrows was punctuated by a jingle as he slid the box toward her on the wood floor. With a frowning grin, she took a long sip of the robust red and set the fluted glass on the coffee table before leaning over. Recognition tickled from somewhere deep in the back of her mind. She'd seen this box before.
Vaughn saw the fight to remember in her eyes as well as twinkling excitement mixing with the purple hue he'd kissed into them earlier and decided to give her a hint. "Jack had this in his storage unit and I...figured it would be put to better use here."
The moment the last piece of the puzzle snapped into place another slow gasp left her parted lips as a sheen of tears gave her eyes a glassy look in the lower string lights.
"This...is this…" she pointed and balked when he nodded.
"I know things have been crazy lately, and decorating a Christmas tree sounded normal. Jetting around the globe for the last month hasn't made things feel very...holiday."
She was still unsure. "But...this is from...from-" she stopped and pointed over her shoulder in a random direction with her thumb, Vaughn grinning.
Lifting the box cutter from the coffee table he ran the sharp edge through the sealing tape, her approach tentative as the excitement for time alone with him bubbled into nostalgia.
The first few moments were spent just touching everything at the surface level, a slow smile dimpling her right cheek.
"Do you need me to break the ice?" he asked, seeing her living in a world of analysis paralysis.
He reached in and pulled out a simple round ornament covered with glittery white snowflakes over red-painted glass. Standing tall and reaching for an upper branch, he looped the metal hook over the plastic and stepped back with shining approval in his green eyes.
Two glasses of wine later, half of the box was on the tree and a giggle left her red-stained lips as the two found themselves looking at a picture of her from grade school glued to a faded, torn, and taped paper gingerbread man. At one point it had likely had googly or button eyes, but they were now blank peeled spots where eyes used to live.
"You were really cute," he said with a grin. "If we have kids, I hope they look like you."
A warm fuzzy flutter bubbled up from her stomach to her heart, "were you not cute? I still haven't seen any baby pictures, by the way," she groused with a grunt and leaned over to hang the gingerbread man within reach without having to stand.
Vaughn peeked up at the upper branch he'd purposefully left without an ornament and hoped it stayed that way. "I had a big pumpkin-shaped head, gangly teeth, definitely not those rosy dimpled cheeks. Trust me, they'll be better off with your genes."
Pouring more wine they made their way through to the bottom layer. "Someone's gonna have to stand up. I'll hand them to you and you put the rest on. We can't hang everything on the bottom of the tree because we had too much wine," he laughed, Sydney rolling her eyes but agreeing as she climbed to her feet.
Handing them off one at a time, she was quickly running out of room and ended up doubling some up. "Last but not least," he said with a wide smile, a cone-bottomed golden star placed in her hand.
"We should have done this before the two glasses of wine," she groaned and reached in a desperate attempt to not lean against the branches and knock all of their hard work to the floor just to put the star on top.
Vaughn couldn't help but laugh and stand, his hands hitting her hips to steady her as she went up on her tiptoes, and he ended up bringing one hand up to bend the top down enough for it to slide into the cone. Stepping back, Sydney stood with her hands clasped under her chin and the reflection of a hundred sparking LEDs in her bright brown eyes as Vaughn tamped down his sudden nervousness. Picking up the box by a flap he heard a thud against the side.
"Oop, one more. Find a spot," he ordered, and she studied the branches.
"Can it double up with something else?" Her question came out as serious as it could, her eyes studying each dipping bough one by one to find a spot where the last ornament would shine and be most visible.
"Sure."
"Ooh, here's a spot," she exclaimed and reached back without looking.
If she took her eyes off of the branch she would lose it, and he smiled while silently opening the box and setting it onto her palm with a tremor shaking his hand as blood thrummed in his ears.
Everything froze as her eyes took in the deep bed of velvet in the ornate box and the shimmer of the Christmas lights bouncing off of the brilliant cut of the diamond ring. The metal was polished perfectly and the breath stuck in her throat as her mind caught up with her eyes. Turning slowly he stood with hands nervously shoved into his pockets as he rocked back on his heels to get some motion in his suddenly antsy legs.
"We never really talked about getting married, but every day I wake up next to you and I never want that to end." The words poured from his heart and he saw her sniffle against the emotion welling in her eyes.
Trepidation spiraled up from his stomach as she stood unmoving with surprise still etched on her face, her eyes looking back down at the boxed ring in her palm.
"I...wasn't sure what style would...be best," he said quietly as the nerves released their energy by way of speech. "I knew you weren't...uh - I knew that something huge wouldn't...be you. That just didn't...seem like you. I think I went to...uh - I went to like fifteen different places, but if you...if you don't like it we can...fix that, probably." The lack of confidence in his voice was something she hadn't heard for a long time and as he descended into panic she overcame the shock of the surprise and waited for him to actually get to the proposal.
"I mean, it's been a year, you know? We keep getting closer, pretty much living here at my place, so-" the words fell away with a gesture of his hands toward the shining diamond in the box.
"Michael," she stopped his rambling. "Ask me."
Breath rushed from his lungs in a whoosh as he realized he hadn't actually popped the question.
"Will you marry me?"
In three steps she was in his arms, the ring clutched in one hand as her free hand pulled his lips down to hers. As his tongue brushed her bottom lip she pulled back with a watery chuckle and looked into the velvet box with soft eyes.
He barely had the wherewithal to clarify. "Is that a yes?"
"Yeah," she whispered her answer behind a sniffle.
"Yeah?"
She looked back up as his hand came up to cup her cheek, "yeah. I wanna marry you."
He kissed her again, quick and filled with excitement, and his hand took the ring from the silk. Pulling apart just long enough to slip it on her finger. The wine commingled with excitement as her lips found his again, their tongues slipping into the fray as she dropped the velvet box and wrapped both arms around his shoulders.
The pent up desire of nearly two weeks without intimacy any deeper than a kiss and two or three interrupted attempts caught alight like quick-burning fuses that led from heart to sex, and his hands grabbed her hips to pull her as close as he could. He felt her tip back against his grip enough to not separate their lower halves or their mouths as her fingers slipped from his neck to shoulders to collar in an attempt to loosen the tie.
Not one to be outdone, Vaughn's hands snuck beneath the long-sleeved shirt and felt the heated warmth of her skin. His knuckles brushed tingling lines, their mouths finally breaking apart with a panting smack as he dragged the shirt up and over her head. It landed somewhere on the floor of the living room along with his tie, and her warm breath heated the skin of his chest as she tackled the buttons of his oxford one by one, her rushing fingers struggling and putting a grin on his lips.
"Syd, screw the buttons," he grunted, his hands leaving her hips for a moment to yank the garment from behind his tight belt, grip each side just above the still clasped button at the center of his chest, and yank. The split-second pops of the threads were accompanied by the clatter of plastic as the skittering bits hit the floor, and she groaned low in her chest.
"I love when you do that," she breathed as her lips suctioned around the swallowing apple of his throat.
"I love the sound you make every time I do," he chuckled and pressed a soft kiss to her temple as she nipped at the pounding pulse point along his jugular. "It's worth the price of buying new shirts."
"This will go a lot faster if we do our own pants," she panted, his lips journeying a series of bites across the top of her shoulder around the strap of her bra.
In reaction, he circled his arms farther and pulled her closer, "but then I'd have to let you go."
The chirp of her phone across the room by the door froze them both, two sets of eyes glaring behind curtains of lust at her unpacked travel bags. "I bought us time," he muttered and dove back to her throat, his teeth scraping her skin as her hands clutched his shoulders.
"Bought?" A groan broke her sentence in two. "From whom?" She felt the release of her bra from behind as his skillful fingers danced across her back while hers lightly dragged fingernails down his jumping abdominal muscles toward his belt and the straining bulge behind the zipper of his tented dress pants.
Michael felt the bra slide down between their stomachs, her free hand tugging it out with a drop next to their feet before moving back down to cup his hardness through the pants. "Please don't make me talk about your dad with her hand down there," he growled in a whine.
Her laughter was like the sweet tinkling of chimes blowing in a summer breeze, and the feeling of the edge of his pointer finger and pad of his thumb gently pinching and rolling the bud of a nipple ended the giggle with a moan. She loosened the buckle and the belt dropped to each side with asymmetrical heaviness, though her attempt to finish the job was thwarted by him taking half a step back.
"I spent like...an hour setting up the bedroom," he hinted, Sydney following him with a step of her own, her fingers hooking the waistband of the dress pants to pull their bodies back together.
"If you think we can't do it on the couch before doing it in the bedroom, you missed me less than I thought." Her feathery breath and the warmth of her breasts and stomach pressing into him sent a ripple of goosebumps down his limbs and a tingle up to his scalp.
Sydney heard the sigh from his chest and tilted shining brown eyes up as conflict furrowed his brow. His eyes were tightly closed, the crinkles at the corners deepening, and his grip at her hips tightened as he fought with his want to take her at her suggestion. They'd done it before from less time between, that was certain.
A dimpled smile curved her pouted lips, her fingers rising to press away his worries. She slid her hands softly to his shoulders and down the sinewy arms to where he clutched at her hips, loosening the grip and turning to lead him from the living room. Her eyes twinkled following the strands of lights strung on both the right and left sides of the hallway, more framing the entrance to the bedroom. He wasn't far behind, his thighs bumping against her backside as they walked in tandem steps.
The sweet smell of honeysuckle and roses lingered just outside the doorway, and Vaughn's mouth against her neck and shoulders maintained the swirling headiness lightening her steps before burning straight down to her stomach where his hand pressed with fingertips skimming the underside of her breasts.
The room was awash in light from festooned strings and flickering candles, the burning fragrant wax throwing floral scents into the circulating air. Another moment of breathlessness caught in her throat as she froze in the doorway. The bed was covered in a blanket of carefully laid out rose petals, and two miniature pine trees on each of the nightstands were decorated with a smattering of blooms and spirals of mini lights.
"God, Vaughn," she whispered, his rumbly chuckle next to her ear forcing her to close her eyes as another streak of warm lightning cracked from her brain to her center.
Pushing forward with her body tingling at every instance of his skin against hers, his fingers skimmed down her stomach to the button holding the dress pants in place. Maneuvering in a snap the clasp opened and she felt the fabric slide down her legs to pool atop her feet. Sydney kicked them aside and turned at the request of his arms. The cool metal of the hanging belt hit her thigh and prompted a shiver, but her hands dove into his hair and flipped the short strands on end between her fingers as she tugged his head down to meet her upturned lips.
Despite the burst of heat and the fact that both sexes were demanding the couple get to it, their mouths met with soft care, tongues brushing as if casting a gentle greeting. This was in direct contrast to everything other hurried feeling coursing through their veins. Sydney's hands moved back down to finish unclasping his trousers until they joined hers on the floor. The silk of the boxers underneath belied the hardness she traced with her fingers, and another airy chuckle sneaked from her throat at the moan he loosed against her lips breaking the kiss.
Gravity seemed to give up as the world tilted, and the chilly foreign sensation of the petals against her back caused another shiver that pebbled her skin with gooseflesh and hardened her nipples to stand at needful attention. They were crushed against his chest as Michael tipped to follow, his hands catching his weight as his mouth crashed over hers.
Her squeak of surprise morphed into a mewl as his lips and tongue plundered hers, a pirate stealing the very breath from her lungs until they broke apart with a gasp. He redirected straight to her neck, Sydney lifting her chin to give him all the access he desired as he sucked a kiss to her swallowing throat, her legs lifting to loosely hook over his hips and pull his silk-covered hardness against her stomach.
The farther his mouth traveled south the less the pressure and suction, and by the time he closed around a nipple, his lips had taken a sharp left turn from their pillaging roughness to velvety softness. The flat of his tongue swept across the bud and a small annoyed sigh accompanied her fingernails digging into his shoulders.
"You...you gotta pick a speed," she grumbled with a pant. She was a half-step away from yanking him back up to finish what he'd started, but either he hadn't heard her complaint or he didn't care.
Switching to the opposite peak he showered it with the same tender and feathery caresses of both tongue and lips. The shrill trill of her cell from the living room echoed down the hallway and into the bedroom, but a brief halt of his ghosting lips was all it caused as he traced a tickling line down to her stomach.
Lifting his hands and sitting up, a half dozen petals stuck to his fingers. A gentle shake loosened the hold and they rained over her to land across her breasts and stomach.
"You're so beautiful," he whispered, the deep red surrounding them a dire contrast to the tone of her skin, pale from less time spent outdoors in the cooler winter months. Cardio had been done on a treadmill inside, especially when traveling, and it had been several weeks since the sun had tanned her skin.
Following the line of her arm with his fingertips, he skimmed her wrist and palm before lifting the hand to his lips, his thumb and pointer finger twisting the newly adorned ring. A grin broke out on both faces, and Sydney used her free arm to push herself up to her elbow and hold his deep emerald stare.
"I love you, but you're killing me. It's been two weeks," she grumbled, and once freed, her left hand with glinting engagement ring landed flat against his chest. Belying his desire to slowly let the passion consume them, his heart was pounding like a jackhammer behind his sternum.
Once the final articles of clothing that separated them were gone, they were a tangle of limbs as each sought the comfort of connection from head to heart to toe with one another. A shuddering simultaneous sigh released from both chests as the tension of their time apart faded away when he slid into the velvety warmth of her channel. The leg hooked high against his side tightened, the other looped lower beneath his backside, the movement pulling him deeper as their lips slowly melded together.
He figured she would complain at the slow pace he'd set, his own wants and desires fixing to stage a mutiny against his romantic nature, but her arms and legs clutched at him as much as his were clinging to her, and the sounds of her enjoyment were mingling with his own. Pulling his lips away from hers he dragged them to the crook of her neck and curled his body into her as he tried to ignore the building pressure in his lower stomach. Even the slow thrusts were pushing them both toward the edge.
Rose petals stuck to their skin, Vaughn lifting himself above her. He traced the skin down her arms coming to her hands. Looping their fingers together, he extended them above her head in two entwined fists, petals bunching against their skin. Pushing in as deep as he could, he stilled and tilted to rest his forehead against hers, his panting breath wafting across her chest. Sydney rubbed the tip of her nose against his with a sigh.
"You are just as close as I am, why are you holding back?"
The phone in the other room rang again, Michael's chuckled burst of air coming along with her eye roll. "Because I agreed to go on a mission so you could have a break, and they aren't gonna stop calling despite your father trying to buy us time."
She pressed a kiss to his chin and he opened his eyes to look down as their fingers untangled, his palms planting to the left and right of her chest as hers cupped his jaw and forced him to focus on her euphoric stare.
"Just...be with me right now."
The purple hue in her eyes and the soft edges of her features with a marked lack of worry lines made him realize how silly he'd been in trying to force the slow pace just to make things last longer. His apology came by way of his lips catching hers as his hips retreated and quickly thrust back home, her sweet moan muffled by his lips.
The pot was set back on the burner, the renewed boil bubbling up from their centers as she rocked her hips to meet his plunges. Her hands wrapped to the usual spots, fingernails digging into his shoulder blades, and his face tucked against her throat as the rhythmic clenching of her walls pulled the orgasm from him in hot spurts, hers following with blinding white lights behind tightly closed eyes.
They lay panting amidst a disarticulated cascade of flower petals, and she hugged him close with legs still hooked over his hips and arms clinging to his back. Michael trailed feather-light kisses across her collarbone to her throat, but the sharp squawk of his ringtone made them both groan.
Untangling, he pushed away and stood on wobbly legs as blood rushed back from his lower half to his head, and his feet slapped the floor as he hurried to catch the call.
"What!"
At the aggressive tone of his voice from the other end of the apartment, Sydney's eyebrows shot up and a bright smile dimpled her cheeks, but she resigned to lay in a languid pile among the petals as her heartbeat settled back to normal. She could hear his return steps, her eyes cracking open to see him in all his post-coital glory with one hand akimbo as the other held the cellphone to his ear wearing nothing but a scowl and the remnants of his erection.
"Mister Vaughn, you do understand that a Christmas party is not a valid excuse to ignore threats to national security, don't you?"
Kendall sounded pissed, but Michael was just as mad. When Jack had given him time, he'd known it was going to be cut short, but only to a couple of hours? Unacceptable.
"With all due respect, Mister Kendall, we aren't the only agents that work in that office. I already agreed to field the next op, but you need to give us a break."
Sydney was impressed by his bucking of authority and it showed on her face as she propped herself up on her elbows with a seductive grin, her purple-hued eyes scanning him from top to bottom.
The boss must have asked something that put him on edge because the muscles in his chest and arms tightened, the deep shadows cast by the flickering low lights highlighting his physique.
"Yes, I know exactly where Agent Bristow is right now."
Pause, though she let out a whispered chuckle.
"No, she's not available for debrief." The hard edge in his voice dissipated when he met her passion-filled gaze. Bringing his hand up to cover the mouthpiece, "don't look at me like that," he ordered in a gravelly tone.
Sydney held up her hands in apology, though she didn't mean it, and stood, brushing the rose petals from her skin in a shower of red on her way to the bathroom. His green stare followed despite the rambling man in his ear, and with a grumble in his chest, he stalked to the dresser, pulled out, and yanked on a fresh pair of boxers with the phone pinned to his ear by his shoulder.
"Okay, hang on," Vaughn ordered, leaving the warmth of the bedroom for the brightness of the living room, and the smile on his face at the sight of the over-decorated tree was impossible to suppress. Hefting the briefcase onto the counter he pinned the phone with his shoulder again as he rifled through the paperwork.
Sydney padded into the kitchen behind him pulling his eye. She'd slipped on his dark green button-up over a pair of skimpy panties, and her bare legs were long and lithe. Michael wasn't sure how the oxford didn't open and expose more of her flesh to his very watchful eyes as not a single button was done, but it left only an inch or so of a gap down the valley between her breasts to her stomach to the stretchy lace hem of the underwear. He threw a tiny fit with a furrowed brow, a huff of breath, and a frustrated gesture of his hand.
As she poured a fresh glass of wine she sent him an equal gesture and scoff as he stood clad in a pair of plaid boxers low on his toned hips with nothing above or below.
Her whisper wafted over, "don't let me distract you." His pointed glare curled her lips behind the sip of wine.
"Agent Vaughn, are you listening? Agent Vaughn!" The harsh tone Kendall used to growl through the speaker brought him back to reality, though his eyes were glued to where she'd slid up to sit on the kitchen counter.
Sydney noted the renewed tenting at the front of his boxers, and the smoky color of his eyes from across the room made them look nearly black in the low light, those eyes taking in her every move - her every deliberate move. Yes, the C.I.A. was about to cut their engagement celebration short, but she might as well try every tool in her arsenal to maximize their time.
"Yes, I'm listening," he lied, his sweeping ogle ending at her bright chocolate eyes, the smirk giving away that she knew exactly what she was doing to him.
That thought made him harder, and though he'd just told Kendall he was listening, Vaughn resisted the urge to ask him to repeat what he'd just said.
Interrupting the information dump the boss was all too happy to continue dropping, "can...can you just tell me when I need to be at the airport? I'll read the operational file en route."
Sydney whispered, "I love when you talk business," before taking in another mouthful of the earthy wine.
She saw him break a bit and slowly walk her way, his free hand squeezing her thigh as he stepped between her legs. When she offered the glass he stiffly shook his head, Sydney taking another drink as her unoccupied hand traced the edges of definition across his chest with a slow, lazy finger. She could hear the hitch of breath in his throat and, with the proximity, the mind-numbing details Kendall was circuitously weaving into his ear.
Her lips brushed against his shoulder and the hand gripping her thigh slid under the shirt and around to the small of her back in order to pull her closer to the edge of the counter, the effort trapping his hardness between them.
"Yes sir," he said in a terse response to the upward inflection at the end of the sentence fired his way, though he had no idea what that question was, only that the pause required an answer.
"What?" Kendall sounded frustrated and confused.
Sydney let out a quiet airy laugh, her mouth lifting from his shoulder to the ear free of the phone. "Yes doesn't answer his question. Say 'the discs'," she chided before bringing the glass back to her rosy lips.
"N-no, I meant the discs." Swallowing the groan lodged in his throat as she bit at his collar bone, the hand not holding the fluted glass tracing the skin beneath his navel at the edge of his boxers.
"Sir, I can't come in twenty minutes."
Another breathy and husky laugh sent a shiver of excitement down his spine. "We'll see about that," Sydney said against his earlobe before nipping it gently.
Despite the distraction he continued, "it'll take me twenty minutes to pack. Push the flight back."
Kendall replied, "then don't pack, it's a one-day operation. We'll...tactical gear...rendezvous point. You...then you can...if that...she can...Jack will…sense?" A low humming tone was taking over, and all he could think about were the glancing touches of her hand along his abdomen and her lips against his throat.
"Say yes," she whispered.
"Yes, sir."
"Good. Wheels up in an hour."
The click indicated that the call had ended, but Michael's thumb was already hitting the button and tossing the device with a clatter across the counter. Her legs hooked over his hips as the hand not holding her back dove into the hair at the nape of her neck and yanked her mouth to his for a hard kiss, breaking apart with a sharp inhale and a groan as the hand that had been teasing at the edge of his boxers nearly the entire phone call slipped its way inside to curl around his shaft.
"I'm going to miss my flight," he groaned without regret.
…