Title: Compromised
Authors: labyrinthine and Thorne
Email: elabyrinthine@yahoo.com and akathorne@hotmail.com
Archive: Credit Dauphine (http://www.creditdauphine.net), all the way!
Rating/Classification: R (this chapter), NC-17 in its entirety - angst/smut, the best things in fic.
Summary: Sydney is caught by her own lies.
Author's notes: This is really the second part of part 1. Confused yet? It will get to NC-17, it really will.
* * * * *
She hangs her head, allowing it to fall limp against her chest, her hair creating a fine gossamer curtain between her and the outside world. Almost immediately, her arm is freed as Vaughn uses his left hand underneath her chin to force her head up. "Fucking look at me!" he cries, and after a moment she acquiesces, wet lashes opening to reveal tear-filled eyes. There is no point in resisting, she concludes. Just let the scene play out and leave before she manages to hurt him more. She says nothing, just holds his gaze resigned as he searches her face.
There is desperation written all over him, she thinks, anger and fury and rage but a desperation that he clings to, almost like he still cares for her and is waiting for her to prove him wrong once again. She can pinpoint the exact moment this desperation is wiped from his expression and replaced by indifference, when his eyes stop searching hers with a fragment of hope and change color to hold a steely resolve. His hand stays at her chin, keeping her eyes level with his.
"You don't understand," she breathes. "Sloane-" He cuts her off, his thumb pressing into her lips. His fingers are tight on her face, pressing into her, and it is starting to hurt.
"Stop. Not one more word. Don't say one more fucking thing. Sloane didn't make you do this. You had the choice, you could have come to me, and I would have helped you, no matter what, but you-" he growls at her. She shakes her head, not trying to free her herself, but in denial. He pushes her a little harder into the wall, the long heat of his body against her. His fingers slip down under her jaw again, keeping her from turning away.
"No, no, you couldn't have helped, you don't know-" Sydney's voice is on the verge of breaking, and she hates it; she tries to taper down the swirl of emotion threatening to break free. She can't make him understand, and can't even decide if understanding will improve the situation.
"I didn't know because you lied to me! You fucking lied to me about everything! I can't believe you…. I can't…. I can't listen to you anymore," he is growing more desperate and furious with each word, his hands shaking against her cheek. "Just stop talking, stop, just stop…." a shudder runs down him, and for one horrible moment, Sydney is afraid he is crying. But now she can see his eyes, flashing dark green at her, and there are no tears there, only a frightening heat. Then his mouth is on hers, sealing all explanations inside her. All the intensity from his eyes is burning in his lips as he kisses her hard, opening her mouth, pushing his tongue inside her, crushing her body against the wall. He is tense and braces against her, waiting for her to struggle free, but she doesn't. She is frozen, unable to move, unable to think past his frantic embrace. For a second or two, she doesn't move at all, but he is not backing off, not letting her pull away. She knows she could break free from him if she tries, but she isn't trying. The struggle is too difficult, and his passion is encompassing her, holding her quiet. Giving in, her right hand rises slowly to cup his face, and she sighs into him, her hips arching towards his body. If she can only distract him…her lips soften against his, and her fingers begin to trace the contours of his face. She opens up to him, letting all her defensive shields slip away for a moment, just for a moment. The instant he feels her yield, he shoves her aside and steps back; Sydney's legs crumble on the way down and she lands in a heap on the floor. She lays stunned for a moment, and then rolls upright, her arms around her legs, ducking her head to hide the sudden rush of tears, making herself a smaller target.
She senses Vaughn moving back to the table, hears the rustling of papers. She glances up to see him sifting through the documents, piling them into a vague semblance of order. She wants to get up off the floor, stop the tears, and explain. Regroup and set this straight. Except she can't.
"I can't even look at you." The raw anger has left his voice, replaced by a finality that wounds her more. It wasn't supposed to be like this, she thinks. "I don't even know who you are. Fuck!" Vaughn swipes cassettes off the table, clearing the debris to extract the wireless phone buried underneath.
"No." She knows she's done with, it's only a matter of time now, but she won't leave this apartment for the first and last time with him hating her. Though it's unavoidable, she thinks - she already hates herself, but that's nothing new. "Don't call anyone, yet." Her assertiveness rising, she does her best to hold him back, while understanding that Vaughn holds all the cards.
"And why should I listen to you? You don't seem to be the most trustworthy person around these days." Stall, she thinks, keep him talking and maybe she'll be able to convince him to listen to her.
She stands with effort, right hip protesting but ignored. "You don't understand. This was never supposed to-"
"Yeah, I'm sure you never meant to get caught," he cuts her off, his voice going cold. He still holds the phone ready, but his eyes linger on her.
"Damn it! No! I never wanted to turn on you, to lie to you." She watches him, the obvious distrust sketched all over his face. This was never supposed to happen; she has taken every precaution to make sure it didn't end this way. The past few months have been structured entirely around protecting him, his safety, his trust; as much as he must be hurting over this deception, her pain is just as acute. "Sloane found out that I was a double. He gave me a choice - turn triple, or watch everyone that I care about die one by one. It was no choice. I couldn't let anyone else be hurt because of my mistakes, my actions. So yes, there were times I lied to you, fed the CIA false information. But you don't understand, I did it to protect-"
"You think no one else got hurt, Sydney?" he is shouting now, interrupting her defense, not caring that someone could hear. "Agents have DIED because of your actions. Operations that took years to set up have been destroyed because you CHOSE to-"
"Stop! Shut up! You don't understand! You can't know what it is like to be forced into making that choice!" Sydney hears her own voice rising, and it seems to be coming from far away. Damn him for only thinking of himself, for not even considering the toll she has weathered for months. From the moment she stepped into his apartment, her only thought has been protecting him from the full extent of her deception, and from the betrayal he must have initially assumed. But this stubborn reluctance to even consider that she was doing the right thing, that there is more going on than he is aware, angers her, and the weight she has balanced precariously for months snaps, breaks free. She propels herself towards him, pushing him with both hands, shoving hard against his chest. Vaughn is unprepared for her attack, and the phone spins from his hand, flying across the room. He reels back, hitting the edge of the coffee table, tripping. Vaughn catches her wrist, yanking Sydney off balance, pulling her with him as they crash down across the files, sheets of paper scattering everywhere. They roll over the table and drop to the floor, crushing the evidence of her deceit. Sydney is trapped face down, half under Vaughn's body, and she is breathless for a moment when he lands on her. He recovers more quickly than she thought possible, and moves to pin her, imprisoning her wrists behind her back with his right hand, and holding her with his weight. They are both panting with exertion and shaking from adrenaline. Vaughn keeps her hands tight behind her, not knowing if she is going to strike out at him again. He sits back over her hips, balancing, one hand tight on her wrists, the other pressed flat between her shoulders.
"Give me one reason why I should believe anything you say, Sydney," he says roughly, voice tight with emotion. "You can't do it, can you? Do you even know the last time you told anyone the truth?"
"I'm telling you the truth now!" she gasps, twisting underneath him.
"You don't even know what the word means," he hisses. "You've told lies on top of lies, to me and everyone else. The truth hasn't-"
She contorts under him, flips him. She is so fast; he can't even process what is happening. Vaughn's head slams into the hardwood floor, bringing tears to his eyes. When he blinks the moisture away, he realizes that Sydney is sitting on his chest, pinning his arms down with her knees. She is cutting off his circulation, and it hurts, but one look at her darkened expression tells him that he should be still.
"Don't you fucking judge me. I know the truth," she snaps. "I know who I am. I know what I did. But you aren't totally familiar with the truth either, are you?"
His expression flickers from pain and confusion to outrage. "I never lied to you, Sydney."
"You lie to me every time we meet. You lie to everyone you know about me. About what I am to you, how you feel. What you want," her voice is low, and deceptively gentle. She is still on his chest, knees pinning arms. She can feel the pounding of his heart under her thigh. She leans forward, carefully placing one hand on the floor next to his face. They are almost nose to nose now, her hair slipping down, curtaining off the rest of the room. "But I know your secrets, Vaughn," she whispers. "I can see them in your eyes when you look at me. I know what you want."
His eyes search her face. "You don't know me at all, if you think I'm going to forget what you've done," he responds, his voice barely audible.
Sydney traces his mouth with a finger. His lips are silky, and warm, and she wants to feel them on her skin before she leaves this apartment. It's a selfish desire that flashes through her thoughts, a last wish of sorts.
"Stop it," he breathes, turning his head away. "Get off of me. I'm calling Devlin."
She shakes her head, slowly. No. "Look at me," she mimics his words; copies his actions, her fingers sliding along the soft sandpaper edge of his chin. She pulls his face back to hers, insistent, "Look me in the eye, and tell me you don't want this."
Sydney feels him inhale sharply; he is caught off guard. He is tense underneath her, starting to struggle. "This is unacceptable, you have to-" His protest is cut off by her mouth brushing his, lightly. He flinches as though she hit him; then he is utterly still, eyes closed, breath held.
She studies his face, trying to memorize the curve of his lashes, the arc of his lower lip, the worry lines on his forehead. She has been such a fool about this man. And now it is too late. She knows she should get up, she should walk away. But instead of leaving, Sydney leans down and cradles his head in both of her hands. "Breathe," she whispers into his mouth, kissing him again, and again, and again. He is struggling against her, pushing her away as much as he can, twisting away from her kisses. I can stop, she thinks; I can stop before I go too far. I can stop before I hurt him.
*****
End part 2
L and T, the only pornless prostitute letters in the alphabet…yes, yes we are evil, thank you.
Authors: labyrinthine and Thorne
Email: elabyrinthine@yahoo.com and akathorne@hotmail.com
Archive: Credit Dauphine (http://www.creditdauphine.net), all the way!
Rating/Classification: R (this chapter), NC-17 in its entirety - angst/smut, the best things in fic.
Summary: Sydney is caught by her own lies.
Author's notes: This is really the second part of part 1. Confused yet? It will get to NC-17, it really will.
* * * * *
She hangs her head, allowing it to fall limp against her chest, her hair creating a fine gossamer curtain between her and the outside world. Almost immediately, her arm is freed as Vaughn uses his left hand underneath her chin to force her head up. "Fucking look at me!" he cries, and after a moment she acquiesces, wet lashes opening to reveal tear-filled eyes. There is no point in resisting, she concludes. Just let the scene play out and leave before she manages to hurt him more. She says nothing, just holds his gaze resigned as he searches her face.
There is desperation written all over him, she thinks, anger and fury and rage but a desperation that he clings to, almost like he still cares for her and is waiting for her to prove him wrong once again. She can pinpoint the exact moment this desperation is wiped from his expression and replaced by indifference, when his eyes stop searching hers with a fragment of hope and change color to hold a steely resolve. His hand stays at her chin, keeping her eyes level with his.
"You don't understand," she breathes. "Sloane-" He cuts her off, his thumb pressing into her lips. His fingers are tight on her face, pressing into her, and it is starting to hurt.
"Stop. Not one more word. Don't say one more fucking thing. Sloane didn't make you do this. You had the choice, you could have come to me, and I would have helped you, no matter what, but you-" he growls at her. She shakes her head, not trying to free her herself, but in denial. He pushes her a little harder into the wall, the long heat of his body against her. His fingers slip down under her jaw again, keeping her from turning away.
"No, no, you couldn't have helped, you don't know-" Sydney's voice is on the verge of breaking, and she hates it; she tries to taper down the swirl of emotion threatening to break free. She can't make him understand, and can't even decide if understanding will improve the situation.
"I didn't know because you lied to me! You fucking lied to me about everything! I can't believe you…. I can't…. I can't listen to you anymore," he is growing more desperate and furious with each word, his hands shaking against her cheek. "Just stop talking, stop, just stop…." a shudder runs down him, and for one horrible moment, Sydney is afraid he is crying. But now she can see his eyes, flashing dark green at her, and there are no tears there, only a frightening heat. Then his mouth is on hers, sealing all explanations inside her. All the intensity from his eyes is burning in his lips as he kisses her hard, opening her mouth, pushing his tongue inside her, crushing her body against the wall. He is tense and braces against her, waiting for her to struggle free, but she doesn't. She is frozen, unable to move, unable to think past his frantic embrace. For a second or two, she doesn't move at all, but he is not backing off, not letting her pull away. She knows she could break free from him if she tries, but she isn't trying. The struggle is too difficult, and his passion is encompassing her, holding her quiet. Giving in, her right hand rises slowly to cup his face, and she sighs into him, her hips arching towards his body. If she can only distract him…her lips soften against his, and her fingers begin to trace the contours of his face. She opens up to him, letting all her defensive shields slip away for a moment, just for a moment. The instant he feels her yield, he shoves her aside and steps back; Sydney's legs crumble on the way down and she lands in a heap on the floor. She lays stunned for a moment, and then rolls upright, her arms around her legs, ducking her head to hide the sudden rush of tears, making herself a smaller target.
She senses Vaughn moving back to the table, hears the rustling of papers. She glances up to see him sifting through the documents, piling them into a vague semblance of order. She wants to get up off the floor, stop the tears, and explain. Regroup and set this straight. Except she can't.
"I can't even look at you." The raw anger has left his voice, replaced by a finality that wounds her more. It wasn't supposed to be like this, she thinks. "I don't even know who you are. Fuck!" Vaughn swipes cassettes off the table, clearing the debris to extract the wireless phone buried underneath.
"No." She knows she's done with, it's only a matter of time now, but she won't leave this apartment for the first and last time with him hating her. Though it's unavoidable, she thinks - she already hates herself, but that's nothing new. "Don't call anyone, yet." Her assertiveness rising, she does her best to hold him back, while understanding that Vaughn holds all the cards.
"And why should I listen to you? You don't seem to be the most trustworthy person around these days." Stall, she thinks, keep him talking and maybe she'll be able to convince him to listen to her.
She stands with effort, right hip protesting but ignored. "You don't understand. This was never supposed to-"
"Yeah, I'm sure you never meant to get caught," he cuts her off, his voice going cold. He still holds the phone ready, but his eyes linger on her.
"Damn it! No! I never wanted to turn on you, to lie to you." She watches him, the obvious distrust sketched all over his face. This was never supposed to happen; she has taken every precaution to make sure it didn't end this way. The past few months have been structured entirely around protecting him, his safety, his trust; as much as he must be hurting over this deception, her pain is just as acute. "Sloane found out that I was a double. He gave me a choice - turn triple, or watch everyone that I care about die one by one. It was no choice. I couldn't let anyone else be hurt because of my mistakes, my actions. So yes, there were times I lied to you, fed the CIA false information. But you don't understand, I did it to protect-"
"You think no one else got hurt, Sydney?" he is shouting now, interrupting her defense, not caring that someone could hear. "Agents have DIED because of your actions. Operations that took years to set up have been destroyed because you CHOSE to-"
"Stop! Shut up! You don't understand! You can't know what it is like to be forced into making that choice!" Sydney hears her own voice rising, and it seems to be coming from far away. Damn him for only thinking of himself, for not even considering the toll she has weathered for months. From the moment she stepped into his apartment, her only thought has been protecting him from the full extent of her deception, and from the betrayal he must have initially assumed. But this stubborn reluctance to even consider that she was doing the right thing, that there is more going on than he is aware, angers her, and the weight she has balanced precariously for months snaps, breaks free. She propels herself towards him, pushing him with both hands, shoving hard against his chest. Vaughn is unprepared for her attack, and the phone spins from his hand, flying across the room. He reels back, hitting the edge of the coffee table, tripping. Vaughn catches her wrist, yanking Sydney off balance, pulling her with him as they crash down across the files, sheets of paper scattering everywhere. They roll over the table and drop to the floor, crushing the evidence of her deceit. Sydney is trapped face down, half under Vaughn's body, and she is breathless for a moment when he lands on her. He recovers more quickly than she thought possible, and moves to pin her, imprisoning her wrists behind her back with his right hand, and holding her with his weight. They are both panting with exertion and shaking from adrenaline. Vaughn keeps her hands tight behind her, not knowing if she is going to strike out at him again. He sits back over her hips, balancing, one hand tight on her wrists, the other pressed flat between her shoulders.
"Give me one reason why I should believe anything you say, Sydney," he says roughly, voice tight with emotion. "You can't do it, can you? Do you even know the last time you told anyone the truth?"
"I'm telling you the truth now!" she gasps, twisting underneath him.
"You don't even know what the word means," he hisses. "You've told lies on top of lies, to me and everyone else. The truth hasn't-"
She contorts under him, flips him. She is so fast; he can't even process what is happening. Vaughn's head slams into the hardwood floor, bringing tears to his eyes. When he blinks the moisture away, he realizes that Sydney is sitting on his chest, pinning his arms down with her knees. She is cutting off his circulation, and it hurts, but one look at her darkened expression tells him that he should be still.
"Don't you fucking judge me. I know the truth," she snaps. "I know who I am. I know what I did. But you aren't totally familiar with the truth either, are you?"
His expression flickers from pain and confusion to outrage. "I never lied to you, Sydney."
"You lie to me every time we meet. You lie to everyone you know about me. About what I am to you, how you feel. What you want," her voice is low, and deceptively gentle. She is still on his chest, knees pinning arms. She can feel the pounding of his heart under her thigh. She leans forward, carefully placing one hand on the floor next to his face. They are almost nose to nose now, her hair slipping down, curtaining off the rest of the room. "But I know your secrets, Vaughn," she whispers. "I can see them in your eyes when you look at me. I know what you want."
His eyes search her face. "You don't know me at all, if you think I'm going to forget what you've done," he responds, his voice barely audible.
Sydney traces his mouth with a finger. His lips are silky, and warm, and she wants to feel them on her skin before she leaves this apartment. It's a selfish desire that flashes through her thoughts, a last wish of sorts.
"Stop it," he breathes, turning his head away. "Get off of me. I'm calling Devlin."
She shakes her head, slowly. No. "Look at me," she mimics his words; copies his actions, her fingers sliding along the soft sandpaper edge of his chin. She pulls his face back to hers, insistent, "Look me in the eye, and tell me you don't want this."
Sydney feels him inhale sharply; he is caught off guard. He is tense underneath her, starting to struggle. "This is unacceptable, you have to-" His protest is cut off by her mouth brushing his, lightly. He flinches as though she hit him; then he is utterly still, eyes closed, breath held.
She studies his face, trying to memorize the curve of his lashes, the arc of his lower lip, the worry lines on his forehead. She has been such a fool about this man. And now it is too late. She knows she should get up, she should walk away. But instead of leaving, Sydney leans down and cradles his head in both of her hands. "Breathe," she whispers into his mouth, kissing him again, and again, and again. He is struggling against her, pushing her away as much as he can, twisting away from her kisses. I can stop, she thinks; I can stop before I go too far. I can stop before I hurt him.
*****
End part 2
L and T, the only pornless prostitute letters in the alphabet…yes, yes we are evil, thank you.