Questioning

Authoress: Faith Lee

Summary: Two agents can't control themselves in the office.

Disclaimer: Not mine.

Ramblings: Strange things.

QUESTIONING

They stared at each other from across the table, the tension evident in their body language. Electricity cackled between them as they glared. Arvin Sloane's voice was the background music; their reflections were laid out on the glass table below them.

Her posture was supposed to be one of laid-back attention, but radiated strain. His back was rigid and his posture was perfect as he pretended to listen as Sloane explained their new mission.

The fact was, niether of them gave a shit about the mission. And the tension hovering between them wasn't the regular, I-hate-you-kind…it was an extreme sexual tension which screamed 'I hate you'. It was too sharp and too real to ignore, so they pretended that instead of strong lust, the tension was hatred crackling in the air.

Soft, brown eyes burned into cold, hard blue as they stared. Marcus Dixon and Marshall Flinkman tried to ignore the obvious distress in the room, but it could not be ignored.

Sloane paused at the end of his explination to look at all four of the agents in the debriefing room, particularly the two who had no idea there were other people in the roomas they were staring with such intensity, it was easy to see that the hadn't heard that Sloane was closing his speech. So, Arvin slammed his hands on the table, looked down at all the surprised faces and said:

"Well, that's it. You can go."

---

Julian Sark leaned against her desk, looking down at her. She tried to ignore him, but it was no use. She slammed her pen down after a short but intense internal battle about punching him or not and looked up at him.

"Can I help you?" Julian smiled wryly down at her, amused by her stern appearance: her silky brown hair was pulled back into a tight chigon, her eyes flashing and her mouth in a grim line. One eyebrow was arched up elegantly.

"Did you hear anything Sloane said?" he asked with his prim English accent. Her face changed from stern school teacher to horrific surprise in a matter of seconds. Julian leaned in and whispered, "I was kind of busy staring at you, you know." A small gasp escaped from her full lips as she leaned back into the chair to escape Julian's nearness. She stared intently at the desk and smoothed her hands over the tabletop.

"What the hell do you want, Sark?" she whispered harshly, avoiding his piercing gaze. After staring at the crown of her pretty head and hair for a few moments, Julian snaked a long, slender finger under her chin and lifted her face up to look up into his normally ice blue eyes, now raging with dark blue fire. He gazed at her with those eyes for a couple of heart-stopping moments.

He leaned in closer.

"I think you know…what I want…Sydney." The hard brown eyes soon melted into pools and Julian smiled. He leaned in and kissed her nose softly, then stood up and walked away. He stopped a couple meters away and looked over his shoulder, signaling for her to follow him. She waited a couple minutes after he was out of sight, then followed.

---

The door closed and Sydney Bristow grabbed the hiding Julian and pressed her lips to his. Urgently, they molded their bodies together. Their lips pressed together again and again, their breathing growing more and more haggard. Julian left her lips to kiss her cheeks and hair and forehead and Sydney gasped:

"Damn these silly clothes," she panted, grasping at Julian's suit jacket. His lips jumped from her ear to her neck.

"Now, Sydney," he breathed between kisses, "clothes don't pose a problem." He ran his tongue down the V of her sweater. "It's the location that is distressing-" His hands went under her butt to push her up against the wall. She stared down at him with lust-filled black eyes.

He lowered his head into her sweater.

"Oh God," she whispered as she closed her eyes in pleasure. "What are we doing?"

---

Marcus Dixon rubbed his face with his hands.

"What are they doing?"