Title: Cravings
Disclaimer: As if I was cool enough to have thought up "Alias!" I wish!
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Sydney/Sark
Author's Note: This is my first time writing a detailed physical encounter, so go easy on me!
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Sydney took Sark's hand. Soft, she thought, as she led him toward the couch.
Then she had another thought. Probably manicured. A snicker. Then, a laugh. God, I really am drunk, she thought.
"What was that?" Sark asked, perceptible as always, even if a bit tanked himself.
"Nothing. I was just thinking how soft your hands are."
"But you're laughing at me," he said, with an innocent smile. She was surprised he had an ounce of innocence left, but then realized his career probably hadn't left much time for love.
She smiled back, shyly, hinting at her nervousness. While she had fantasized about this moment, she never really expected for it to happen, and now she was unsure of herself.
The pair soon reached the couch. He motioned for her to sit down first, which she did, stumbling slightly.
He sat down next, putting his feet up on the table, next to the near-empty tequila bottle. He grabbed it, taking one last swig. A little spilled around the corners of his mouth.
Sark moved to wipe the thick liquid from his face with the back of his hand.
"Wait," Sydney said, with a coy glint in her eyes.
"I'll get that."
Sark quickly dropped his hand to his side, as she moved in for the kill.
Except it wasn't a kill this time – a first for the pair.
It was a kiss.
God, was it ever a kiss, he thought, as he felt her warm lips encircling his mouth, lapping up the remains of the tequila, before she probed his lips, begging for entrance.
He quickly complied, letter her tongue dodge in and encircle his mouth in an almost patterned motion that he surmised must have been designed to exact every ounce of pleasure from the moment. No, Sydney never did anything half-assed, he thought. And that definitely includes this.
Not one to be dominated, Sark regained his composure and decided he could show her a few moves himself. His hands brushed softly through the bottom of the hair behind her neck, and he moved it to the side, removing his mouth from hers so that he could make a trail of kisses down to the back of her neck.
She moaned slightly, almost imperceptibly.
He recoiled, if only for a second, amazed at the thought that Sydney Bristow was moaning because of him. Because of him! He had waited over three years for this, and now the moment was here.
"Don't stop," she whispered, looking deep into his beautiful blue eyes. She was almost begging, pleading with him. He knew she never begged for anything. She never had to. Yet she couldn't bear the thought of his lips removed from her body.
Not one to disappoint her at this point, he replied with a forceful kiss on her lips. Instead of trailing down her neck, this time he trailed down the front of her button-down shirt. It was already down to the third button, due to her relaxed and drunken state, just above the hard semi-circle of the front of her underwire bra.
He undid another button, not pausing to remove his lips from her warm chest.
Another whimper, as she brushed her hands through his near-shaven head, massaging his ears.
He looked up.
She was pleading again, and he wasn't one to refuse her.
He slowly leaned back against the side of the couch, grabbing at her shirt collar and bringing her along for the ride. Now, she was almost completely on top of him.
She felt his hands moving, everywhere. She had not felt this warm for at least two years, she thought, as his fingers stroked the small of her back, just above her panties.
He soon moved his hands up higher, back on the front of her body. From beneath her shirt, he moved the open part of the shirt aside, pushing it to expose on of her shoulders, which he proceeded to kiss, nuzzling her neck with his nose at the same time.
Their mouths met again, resuming their prior searching foreplay, as he undid the last buttons of her shirt and tugged it off of her, exposing her black lace bra.
She tore her mouth away from his, upsetting him. But he soon realized it was only to pull his tight cotton t-shirt over his head. After tossing it aside, she lowered her mouth to his chest, feeling his muscles tighten with her touch.
And they were in this compromising position as the door opened. Apparently, it had been left slightly ajar when Sark had hastily entered. So, now Weiss called out, "Syd, are you okay? You left the door open …"
Sydney and Sark looked up in shock. Both were panting slightly from the physical exertion of their encounter. Sydney was sprawled on top of Sark.
The pair looked at each other and then at the shocked Eric.
"I forgot my cell phone," he said, stunned, as she covered her bra with crossed arms.
Weiss turned around and left as fast as he could, slamming the door behind without another word.
"It seems we've been made," Sark said, softly.
Sydney took his manicured hand in hers and stroked it gently, wondering what exactly had been made that evening.