You Wanna Be Rough?

by SowenElf

A series of mature S/V vignettes. The rating is there for a reason!

12. The Punished

A/N: So...this got much spicier than I imagined when I had started with the idea. I tried to keep them as much in character as I could, but the premise of this chapter is a bit OOC for Sydney. Still - I may have taken too much enjoyment out of writing this chapter, it was a new kind of sexy stuff I wanted to explore. Sorry for the break from Happy New Year, but when an idea shows up and just won't go away...you run with it until it's done.

Friends in a fanfic writer's discord group helped me write this one by feeding me with ideas when I reached out...so buckle up! This is a long one filled with a lot of sex! It's going back to the idea behind Chapter 1, where Sydney and Vaughn work out their anger on each other.

Trigger warning (if it applies): contains masturbation and edging.

Chapter 12: The Punished

Reckless.

Irresponsible.

A danger to herself and others.

Unbelievable.

The eleven-hour flight back to Los Angeles had given her plenty of time to think about what she'd done, and she knew an angry mob back at the office was waiting with torches and pitchforks. Sydney contemplated not coming back for a few days and no-showing her flight, but that would just delay the inevitable.

In their short conversation over comms, once she'd gotten to safety, Kendall had growled, "twenty minutes after you land, you had better be standing in front of me."

Like a child in school being sent to the principal's office, Sydney walked the hallways of the JTF slowly trying to postpone the tongue-lashing she knew was coming.

'You need to get yourself straight. Don't go in there angry, it won't work out.'

Deep down, she knew her inner voice was right, but she was angry, and she should probably get that in check before meeting with her boss. Five minutes after entering the office she stormed out minus her C.I.A.-issued identification, heading down to the armory to turn in her handgun. Two weeks of suspension, and she was pissed. Employees between her and her destination moved to either side as she furiously hurtled down the hallways, oblivious to the wake left behind her.

Vaughn was waiting just inside the parking garage, the wrinkles on his forehead standing at almost as much attention as the vein on hers. Her blood was still boiling, but despite everything, she was glad to see him.

He was pacing in front of the car, the click of her heels on the cement in the parking garage pulling his attention. As she opened her mouth to speak, he surprised her into silence as he held up his hand to stop her, a Hulk-like green fire burning behind his hooded glare.

"Get in the car." His voice was a snarl, and Sydney was shocked that he was taking that tone with her.

Sydney knew he was angry. His voice over the phone before she'd left London was clipped, and when the words 'get home, we'll deal with it later' hit her ear followed by a click, with no I love you or even a goodbye before hanging up, she knew he would be looking to take out his anger on her. Since figuring it out, equal amounts of nervous and sexual energy coursed through her veins at the knowledge that Vaughn was mad at her, though this might be the instance where she'd find herself sleeping on the proverbial couch.

The beginning of the drive was silent, though she could feel a hot aura coming off of him. Chancing a glance, she noticed that he'd removed his coat and tie, the Oxford slightly open at his neck. His nostrils flared with each breath and she could see the muscle in his jaw tensing as he ground his teeth.

Stopping at a red light, his hand roughly slammed into the steering wheel making her jump. "God damn it, Sydney!"

The emotion she was desperately trying to repress came roaring back as she whipped around to face him, "you of all people shouldn't have asked me to walk away from him, Vaughn. Sloane was right there!"

He threw one hand in the air, the seat belt digging into his chest. "Oh, don't even go there with me. Not with me! How many times have I let intel go, or - or bailed on missions to keep you safe?"

"I never asked you to do that!" Firing back, she saw that her response surprised him, but not in a good way.

A horn from behind reminded them that they were driving, Michael's foot slamming on the gas and lurching the sedan forward as the two sat in silence save for their heavy breathing. She was surprised there was anyone behind them this early in the morning, the clock on the dash reading 2:30 in light green letters. In reality, that person had kept them from arguing with one another for who knows how many of those light cycles.

"You're really mad at me for going after Sloane? Vaughn, he's the one piece left for me to finish the puzzle!"

She jumped when he hit the steering wheel again. "No! That's not...you just...you never, ever think past that!"

"How do you expect me to get over everything he's done?" She was twisted in the seat attempting to face him, mostly because she could as she wasn't required to keep her eyes on the road.

Unfortunately for her, another light ahead turned red allowing him to pierce her with his stormy green glare once the car was stopped. His words were punctuated and he let each one land before moving to the next.

"You...could...have...died! Why don't you care about that?"

She scoffed. "It wasn't that bad! It never is."

The light turned green and the conversation was cut once more. The pressure was building, and Sydney was both nervous and intrigued at how it was going to blow. She wondered if he had been thinking about the same thing over the last few hours; if he'd been letting his frustration and anger build while she was slowly making her way home.

At the moment, he seemed more than furious, and she wasn't sure that tonight would end panting and covered in sweat among his sheets like their other fights.

"I'm sorry," she grumbled half-heartedly, assuming it was what he wanted to hear her say.

The light ahead of them turned yellow, and she could tell that he likely would have run it if not for her utterance. Instead, his foot hit the brakes just hard enough to throw them into the locked belts, but not enough to squeal the tires. He turned and leaned toward her, his finger pointing as he planned to tell her exactly what was on his angry mind.

She returned the glare, Michael stopping mid-thought as he spotted the purple in her eyes. He snaked a hand behind her head and fisted a handful of her hair, yanking her over the console to slam their mouths together. His tongue roughly pushed its way through her parted lips to duel with hers as the stubble of his five-o'clock shadow chaffed her chin and lips.

His onslaught was over quickly, the light ahead going from green to yellow, and he gunned it from idle to get across the intersection as the crimson beacon passed overhead. Sydney leaned away from him in her seat with her elbow on the windowsill, the back of her hand against her hot lips. Vaughn was similar on his side, one arm stretching out as he white-knuckled the steering wheel and propped his head on his fist adjacent to the window.

The rest of the drive went by in silence, and blessedly, no more lights hampered their journey. He parked the car and sat for a moment, Sydney still trying to take her emotions down a notch. Michael got out while she still sat in thought, circling around the car to open her door with an impatient sigh. Rolling her eyes at the aggressive, feigned chivalry, she lifted her purse and stepped out.

Vaughn's fingers wrapped around her upper arm bringing her close and his lips brushed her ear, his voice the gravelly low rumble that he knew drove her crazy. "Do not think that I'm anywhere near letting this go."

"I know I screwed up. You don't have to lord it over me," she glared and tried to pull her arm free, but he tightened his grip and she knew she would have finger-shaped bruises in a day or so. Probably not the only ones, if the smoky, dark, forest green of his eyes were any indication.

"You don't get to be angry about this, Sydney. We can talk it out after, we always do. For now? Get inside; I'll grab your bag."

The flames in her stomach cascaded to her center. "What if I want to talk about it now?" Her typically confident voice had a contradicting tremor on the back end that she couldn't control.

"Get inside," he growled, releasing her arm and giving her a small twist toward the entrance of the apartment building.

He stalked to the trunk as she made her way inside, her legs feeling a bit like jello as her stomach filled with hyper-active butterflies. The air of the apartment was cool on her heated cheeks as she tossed open the front door, leaving it unlatched behind her as she placed her purse on the kitchen table across from the foyer.

Leaning on her palms she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. He was much angrier than he had been in the past, and she genuinely couldn't predict the direction of the evening. That didn't mean she wasn't excited. She was the one in their relationship to be punished by far the most as she had a penchant for throwing caution to the wind and diving into the deep end on missions. This, however, felt different - was different.

Vaughn pushed through the doorway and set the bag aside. Locking the door behind him, he stepped farther into the room shoving his hands into his pockets as he stared down his fiancee.

"I want you to promise me something."

She stood tall, finally looking over at him. His shoulders were tense, as was his jaw, despite the fact that his stance was casual. The worry wrinkles on his forehead were still there, though not as deep as when she'd first seen him in the parking garage. Rolling her shoulders and feeling the bite of the sore spots, she tried to relax but wasn't feeling relaxed.

"Okay," she agreed hesitantly.

He took a step toward her, his eyes darkening. "You do everything I tell you to do, with no argument."

"Vaughn," she grumbled, and he tilted his head with a glare squinting his eyes at her instant refusal of his request.

"You spent six and a half minutes not listening on your mission, and it almost got you killed. It's time for you to listen."

She nodded, beginning to let down her guard. Why it was still up she wasn't sure, but it hadn't really come down since she'd left London. It felt strange for her to be guarded around him.

"Okay," she agreed.

"Whatever I say goes."

She twisted her engagement ring nervously on her finger, a habit she'd re-developed since he'd surprised her with it a month ago. Desire pooled low in her stomach as he exuded a fiercely calm yet furious energy.

"What if that's not what I want?" This would likely be her last challenge, she assumed, Sydney seeking one more instance of control from a day filled with a horrible lack of control.

His hunter green eyes flashed as he took a few steps forward, and she held her ground until he was a mere breath away. His hands remained in his pockets despite the fact that she wanted him to lay them on her, and as he leaned forward he spoke in a deadly serious voice, "then your eyes wouldn't be purple and your breath wouldn't hitch in the back of your throat when I'm this close."

'Touche,' she thought and knew he was right, though she wasn't going to say it out loud.

He pointed with a nod of his head toward the bedroom ordering her without words, and she turned to obey. As she walked, she thought about all of the times he'd demanded submission from her in the bedroom, this seeming to go a bit farther than he'd ever gone before. This didn't dampen her excitement, the unknown making her blood pulse through her veins.

She flipped on the light in the bedroom and walked in, thinking of the doorway as a portal leaving everything beyond this room far away. The only ones here were them, and if he wanted to punish her, she'd more than earned whatever he had planned. Which he for sure had plans. The flight was long enough for him to set up whatever he wanted, and her stomach bubbled and flipped at the thought.

Everything about the bedroom looked normal, however. No whips or chains had been laid out atop the dark blue comforter, not that he had those, their bed still made from when he'd left this morning. She felt and heard him come in behind her, and he closed the portal door keeping everything and everyone out, reserving this space for them. His hands were back in his pockets and he regarded her with a piercing stare.

"Unbutton my shirt."

Her nod was stilted, but she stepped forward and brought her hands up, her palms resting flat against the warmth of his chest. He slapped her hands away, strong enough to feel a little sting behind her fingers. "Buttons," he growled.

He heard the tiny annoyed sigh that left her lips and knew she would give some kind of push back when she realized how submissive he was demanding she be, submission not a Sydney Bristow trait. If there was one thing they'd spent time learning together, however, vulnerability with one another was solace, not a burden. So he was asking her to submit to the solace that he wanted for them both, and he hoped that she would accept.

"Do you have a punishment planned if I don't do what you say?"

He nodded.

"Are you not going to tell me what that is?"

"Buttons," he repeated, slipping his hands back into his pockets.

She suddenly felt that they each wore far too many clothes. She alone was wearing a business-style button-up like his and a bra, her lower half covered in a sleek pair of dress pants with thigh-high hose underneath. If he was going to demand the removal of one article at a time, she may burn to death with the heat radiating from her center before anything actually happened.

One by one, she popped the silver, plastic buttons from the holes and opened the front of his shirt. It was still tucked in his trousers, so it hung open revealing the white cotton tee beneath. The last of the clasps were hidden behind the belt and band, but she hadn't been asked to undo those yet and her hands returned to her sides waiting for his next command.

A small smile played at his mouth as he saw her accept her place for the night, though the purse of her lips gave away that she was vexed. He also caught that the purple usually seeping in a hint around her iris had turned her brown eyes into a hued hazel, encroaching farther than he'd seen before.

"Belt," he said, low in his throat.

She stepped a bit closer, her fingers manipulating the warm leather, and he couldn't stop himself from leaning in to place a single soft kiss against the side of her neck. It was so light that she almost didn't feel it, but that gentle gesture made a hum escape the back of her throat as her fingers stilled when undoing the metal toothed clasp.

"Belt," he ordered, his demand a cool breath against her hot skin, and she kicked back into gear to finish.

"Zipper, I assume?" Her breathless whisper wasn't devoid of sarcasm.

In response, his hands reached up and cupped her cheeks before leaning in and brushing his lips against hers in a kiss almost as soft as the one he'd placed on her neck. The ghost kiss made her want more, so she stepped into him trying to deepen the touch, but his hands dropped away and he stepped back quickly, Sydney feeling for a moment like she was falling forward.

"Zipper."

She took a few breaths trying to lower her rapid heartbeat, her eyes reopening. Closing the distance once again, he held back his reaction as her fingers brushed the bulge he wasn't trying to hide. He felt every tooth of the zipper as she slowly lowered it, and though he wanted her to increase the pressure, the moment it was done he was glad she'd put down her hand.

"Take them off the rest of the way," he said, and she could hear the tightness in his voice and knew that this was almost as much torture for him as it was for her. A certain respite was found in that fact.

'No more fighting it. Just let go.'

She undid the button, the belt jingling as the waistband fell from his hips, and with a small push, the trousers landed atop his feet. He stepped out and kicked them aside, the shoes left in the living room.

"Shirt."

Lightly gripping the sides of the button up, she slid the left off his shoulder before the right, and he stood before her in tented boxers and a white undershirt.

"Keep going," he said, his hands hanging low at his sides.

Fingering the hem of the tee, the fabric soft in her hands, she lifted as he rose his arms, the removal leaving his already bed-head hair further tousled. She wanted to run her fingers down his defined chest to trace his twitching abs, but instead let them fall down to wait for his word asking her to do such.

He could see the war in her eyes; the want to let him lead and for her to follow in a fight with throwing it all to the side to ravish one another. He also saw that she desperately wanted his forgiveness and a chance to make up for what she'd done, and that meant that the follow side was winning the battle.

"All the way," he said softly but gruffly, his erection bouncing against his stomach as the waistband of the boxers lowered, freeing it from the cloth prison.

Michael surprised her by moving away and sitting on the edge of the bed, reaching down and removing his socks one by one before scooting back above the covers to rest against the backboard. Grabbing her pillow, he wedged it behind his back as he got settled. Her mouth went dry as his hand circled his cock, fingers wrapping around the shaft and moving slowly up and down.

"Shirt buttons," he snapped her attention back from his groin to his eyes. "Shirt...buttons."

Her gaze lowered, transfixed as he lay nude on the bed pleasuring himself, and her hands moved of their own mind to quickly do what he asked when he stopped her.

"Slow. Do it...slow."

So she did. One piece of plastic at a time, she found herself releasing a button for each pump of his hand, a couple of seconds passing with each up and down as he was content to prolong every part of tonight and leave her to teeter on the ledge. Below her would be the black swirling vortex of passion and sexuality, but she wouldn't be able to fall without his push, or tonight: his word.

Fingers undid the last button she could access, the other two or three behind the band of her dress pants. The opening let a sliver of light in against her creamy skin, and in reaction, he reached his right hand down to cup and squeeze his sac.

A low hum came from his throat and he turned it into another order, "pull it out and finish."

With the last buttons undone, she began to slip it down her shoulders, but he stopped her with a sharp shake of his head. "I didn't tell you to take it off. Leave it on, open just down the middle."

Pulling it back over her shoulders, she made sure the opening was a mere slit down the middle and let her arms fall down to await further instruction.

"Pants."

The clasp loose, the zipper pulled, she shimmied them down her legs and stepped out, Michael's hand squeezing his hardness at seeing the lace panties hugging her hips and the thigh-high hose a see-through black against her toned legs. What hint of bra he could see peeking through the shirt seemed to match the black lace hiding her center from his eyes, and he could tell that they were a matching set.

"Take the shirt off," he commanded, her hands moving to follow.

The polyester slid down her back with a whisper, and she felt it land against her heels. Standing before him in a bra, panties, and hose with hazel purple-hued fire in her eyes, she made a vision. He could see her breasts rising quickly against the confining fabric, the soft creamy roundness disappearing behind the lace and the forward-facing clasps. Sitting up, he slid to the edge of the bed.

"Come here, but...no touching."

Despite some confusion about his command, she stepped forward until she was standing just outside of his open knees. He pointed to the floor between his legs, the high bed putting his thighs at the level of the lower part of her hips, and she took the last step forward. His hands moved up to run tickling lines down her sides sparking a shiver to jolt from her stomach to her brain and then back down to her sex. His mouth was like a light breeze traveling from her collarbone to the rise of her breasts, tiny kisses that barely pressed into her skin leaving her wanting more.

Her hands, not her, broke the rule. The skin over his tight biceps was warm against her palms, but the stinging love bite he suctioned against the swell of the right mound made her hands fly away, hovering clenched at just above him.

"I'm sorry," she whispered and felt his lips softly kiss the bite in response as everything went back to gentle and slow, like the soft waters of a wide river just after the rapids.

"Step back," he whispered, hot breath fanning her sweaty skin. She did. He stood but kept his right arm around her, his palm flat against the small of her back as the other hand cupped her chin between his thumb and pointer finger, holding her in place against his body for his mouth to sweetly claim hers.

It was so hard not to touch him, but she managed to keep her arms at her sides despite having his body pressed so close, the stiffness of him against her stomach, and the velvet of his mouth against hers. His tongue flicked against her pouted lower lip as he pulled away, nodding with his head toward the bed.

"Lay down." His voice was pure sex, the gravelly tone resonating low in her stomach. She moved to the bed, sat at the edge, and then lowered herself backward. "Farther; against the pillows." She scooted back as he asked.

Vaughn surprised her by joining her on the bed, crawling and sitting high on his knees between her open legs and propping himself up with his hands on either side of her trim waist. He leaned in to brush a ghost of a kiss to her lips once more before sliding down and tracing the column of her throat. The fluttering pulse at the meeting of her collarbones coupled with the shallow panting breaths he could hear due to his ear's proximity put a small upward tilt to his lips.

Snapping his fingers against the clasp at the front of her bra, her breasts were set free, Michael pulling the fabric from behind her back and tossing it off the edge of the bed. Continuing his trek south, he delicately swirled his tongue around but avoided the hardened buds of her nipples on both sides, Sydney fisting the covers to her right and left to keep from diving her hands into the hair at the nape of his neck and increase the pressure.

Truthfully, he missed when her nails scratched his skin or when her hands clutched at him as he found all of the spots on her body that made her shiver beneath him, but he was determined to see this night through. That's why he'd gotten off three times already while waiting for her to get home - to guarantee that he could last as long as he needed when she was finally in front of him.

Looking up at her face, her cheeks flushed and deepening the light blush of her makeup, her lips pouted, parted, and full, her eyes closed as she took in the sensation of his breathy touches against her stimulated body, he took it all in. Rising, he hooked his pointer fingers into both sides of her panties and pulled them down her hips to mid-thigh just above the top of the hose. Her eyes opened and watched as he backed off of the bed to stand at the end, the underwear going with him before abandoned along with the rest of their clothes.

In the low light of the bedroom he could see the wetness of her center below the neatly trimmed patch of hair on her mound, the soft wet lips below bare from her attention. He re-wrapped his fist around his hardness, the thumb brushing and spreading the pearly pre-cum at the tip as he met her eyes, hers asking 'what next'.

"I want to watch you."

The first non-order of the evening, though it was implied.

'Thank god,' she thought as her right hand traveled to her center to have her middle and ring finger dip into the wetness before swirling the electrified button with three quick circles.

"Slower," he ordered, Sydney honestly thinking of ignoring his request at the gratifying sensation of finally getting some attention, even if it was her own. But she kept thinking back to his threat, another punishment he had for her not obeying, and slowed her fingers against the nubbin. Even with the reserved movements, she'd have no problem getting off quickly, the pot having been near to boiling in her stomach for quite some time.

Her fingers expertly danced around and into the folds, occasionally dipping into the silky depts before coming out and shining with her juices as they returned to her clitoris, and her eyes fixated on the image he made at the end of the bed. He was all taut muscles and pleasure-filled testosterone.

She felt the burning in her abdomen and knew she was close. Despite wanting to speed up, he'd asked her to take her time, so the focus at the moment was on the pace of his hand moving on his shaft. Which was excruciatingly slow. Still, she was nearing the peak, excited to let the build-up of tension go as her muscles began to tense.

He watched as she neared her orgasm, knowing the signs well by this point in their relationship. The muscles of her toned abdomen clenched, her toes began to curl, the humming moan behind her lips was higher pitched, and her brow began to scrunch above her tightly-closed eyes.

"Stop."

Those eyes flew open and, though her hand went to a near snail's pace, her fingers still moved at her center. He moved to kneel between her legs as his fingers wrapped around her wrist, pulling her hand up.

"Stop," he repeated, smiling at the fiery indignation written on every feature of her beautiful face. He released her hand, fully expecting to grab it again as she refused to obey. Secretly, he wanted her to defy him at this moment, the handcuffs in the closet box high on the shelf hadn't gotten much use in the last month. His disappointment was marginal as she balled it into a fist and lightly smacked it to the top of the bed, but she didn't complain.

"May I ask why?"

Michael leaned over her body to rest on his palms to the right and left of her ribcage. Purposefully, he slid the engorged tip of his arousal against her center, bypassing her opening, before letting the shaft nestle against her folds. Bending down his lips caressed hers in another gentle, breathless kiss before he peppered pecks against the corner of her mouth down to the line of her jaw and then to the column of her throat.

"You don't get to come until I say."

The proximity of her mouth to his ear guaranteed that he heard her frustrated grunting whine, so in response, he pulled back to rub himself against her once more, the friction not enough for her to get any closer to her restricted orgasm.

"I hate when you do this," she grumbled. That was only half true. She loved it when he did this, but hated the tortuous march toward the impending explosion. He'd only made her wait a couple of times in the past, and she assumed this time would be no different.

His voice was a low purr vibrating against her earlobe and throat, rumbling inside his chest that pressed, for the moment, against her breasts. "I'm going to drive you insane tonight, Sydney, and you won't come until dawn hits that window."

The bedside alarm clock was to her right while his head was to her left, and she couldn't help but turn to look at the bright red numbers that read 3:45. "Th-that's three hours from now," she balked. His answer was another rubbing thrust that put a groan in her throat. "That's not fair," she mewled.

"Trust that it is," he growled, his lips and teeth sucking another vicious love bite to the crook of her neck just above her collar bone making her whimper.

"Can I at least touch you?" Her question was accompanied by a brush of her full lips against his neck as he leaned in to dot kisses along the line of her shoulder to her throat.

"No." Gruff, and he honestly didn't mean it to sound that forceful, was the way it had come out so he would follow through, his tongue flicking against the pulse point between her collarbones.

She sighed and he smiled, moving lower. Tonight, he was going to push her until she broke, something he'd never done before. Well, something they'd never done before. She'd felt the pressure of him edging her before, but this was going to be a whole new experience for them both. While his grandiose plans had been swirling in his mind, he knew he would run into some hurdles. Could he go almost three hours torturing her into as many near climaxes as he could without coming himself? To be honest, it was only going to be nearly two hours, but her plane arrived early. Vaughn wasn't sure if that would be the case, but he knew that he was going to try with every fiber of his being to punish her for that long.

His mouth skimmed to her left breast, his back arching so he could keep his erection pressed parallel to her opening and maintain that delicious friction, the feeling of her soft warmth almost making him want to throw it all away and plunge inside.

Suctioning open-mouthed kisses to her flesh, he circled but avoided the hardened peak, his eyes catching her hands fist the blanket again, his body feeling her hips move just enough to rub her nether lips against his shaft.

He abandoned the left side without once touching her nipple, ascending on the right in the same manner. Scraping his teeth lightly against the softness, he dragged his tongue in a circle around the outer edge of the darker skin before leaving that side bereft of any deeper action.

Moving his hips back to readjust his position, his hardness slipped away from her core making them both groan at the loss of warmth and pressure. Glancing his lips down the valley between her breasts he burned a slow line of nips and licks to her navel, his tongue dipping in for a moment until he redirected to the left to bite at her hip.

His right hand ran a tickling path from the top of her knee down to the juncture of her thighs, purposefully stopping before touching her center, and moved to the underside to prop on his elbow and tickle the back of her leg above the hose with his fingertips.

Sydney's breath was coming in hurried pants, her chest rising and falling as her muscles tensed. There was a chance that as soon as his mouth touched her core, she would come. They both knew that. So she put all of her eggs into that basket.

It was a risk he was almost willing to take, but as he angled his head to look up at her tense, pleasure-filled features, he knew it was what she was expecting, and that meant that plans warranted a change. Staying up on his knees he dipped his head back down to chart a line of suctioning kisses along the inside of her left thigh traveling toward where he knew she wanted his mouth most. Her body tensed and the coverlet bunched tightly between white-knuckled fingers at the feeling of his hot breath against her, and she held the air in her lungs in anticipation.

He blew a gentle breath of cool air against her sex and saw the opening contract as her inner muscles squeezed and released several times. A moment later he changed his direction, and a frustrated growl sat low in her throat as he purposefully moved north, his lips against the skin below her bellybutton. He chuckled, her reaction to let out an aggravated sigh, but she didn't move or break the rules.

She could kill him with her pinky, and they both knew that fact. Her passion kept asking why she didn't just kick his ass and leave him with blue balls before getting some much-needed satisfaction and sleep, but her heart reminded her that she deserved every moment of what he was doing. Her mind chimed in that as annoyed as she was, she was really enjoying his attention, even if it was making her ache.

She jumped when his finger traced first the left and then right lip, a whimpering moan leaving her parted lips and she couldn't control the muscles that thrust her hips upward.

"Lie still," his order was warm between her legs, and she opened her eyes to glare down at him, catching his smirk.

He teased the slit, pushing a finger inside to curl up and taunt her G-spot with a few brushes before pulling back and tracing along the moist outer edge of the labia. She hissed behind clenched teeth as his tongue joined the fray, though every piece of him avoided the bundle of nerves at the top. Right as she was about to curse him with every word in the book, the pointed tip of his tongue lightly flicked at the nub, and her thighs tensed threatening to close around him as every nerve throughout her body felt like they'd been electrified.

The propped right hand gripped her muscled leg holding it to the side, and his eyes watched with delight as her face contorted in bliss, her lips forming an elliptical 'O' at the sensations. Though it was agonizingly slow, his tongue alternating shape from the pointed tip to the flat top, he brushed it against the sensitive pearl every few seconds. One finger, and then a second, slid back and forth into her warmth at the near crawling pace at which his tongue lapped, but the rising tension in her stomach was the first hint of another cresting orgasm.

She wanted to, tried to, hide it, but he knew more than half a dozen signs before she came. If wasn't the higher-pitched whine it was the full-body tense. If it wasn't the pouted, o-shape to her lips, it was the clenching of her inner muscles, usually around his member but currently around his fingers. One last flick and he stopped.

The air she'd been holding in was released in one big gust and her muscles began to loosen. His eyes fixated on the rhythmic pulsing of her entrance as well as the extra juices that formed a drip at the very bottom of her opening. Looking up, he saw the red tint of her face and the twitching muscle in her jaw and knew that if it were any other time, she'd have knocked him cold and finished the job herself. He greatly appreciated her ability to take his punishments and letting him push farther than he had pushed in the past, and these were all things he would say afterward. He'd started tonight as a hard-ass, and as a hard-ass he would finish.

Standing, he held out his hand ignoring the frustrated confusion in her eyes as he gave another order posing as a request. "Why don't you go grab us a drink?"

"Are you kidding me?"

His eyes darkened. "Something...strong."

She scoffed and sat up to slide to the edge of the bed, her feet touching the floor as she set her hands flat to the right and left of her hips. Deciding that some hard liquor wasn't a terrible idea, though it would arguably make her hornier, she couldn't pass up something to take her mind off of the amount of desire that had built up inside both her brain and her lower stomach.

Taking his hand, relishing in the fact that she was finally touching some part of his skin, he helped her up with a little push toward the door.

"Make it rum," he hollered, hearing her indiscernible grumble from the hallway. He hurried to the closet and flipped on the light, his eyes spotting the box on the top shelf above his hanging suit jackets. He still wasn't quite used to all of his clothes being on one side with all of hers being on the other, and the sight still made his heart flutter. The lid came off, the new device fitting in the palm of his hand. Testing it, the vibrating buzz against his fingertips made his cock bounce in excitement, and he moved back to the bedroom to set it on the nightstand in the circle of his watchband, sufficiently hidden in plain sight.

"Your rum, sir?" The sarcasm was back, her voice at the doorway, and he turned to see her nude figure with two shot glasses in one hand and the bottle in another leaning seductively against the doorframe.

He crossed his arms over his chest, nodding for her to continue. "Go ahead."

Crossing to the stand before him, a delightful sway to her hips making his lips rise at the edges, she poured the amber liquid into one and then the other, keeping the bottle fisted in her hand. He took one from her as she waited for permission, which he gave with a minuscule nod and an uptick of his brow. Sydney brought it to her lips and felt the burn of the liquor slide down her throat. She'd already had one in the kitchen when he'd sent her on her errand, but rum was his favorite, not hers. It always made gooseflesh break out on her arms and legs the moment it touched her tongue and it burned all the way to her stomach, hitting her harder than others she preferred. Every reaction was right on cue.

Michael watched her face contort with a grin, knowing how much she hated his shot of choice. Still, her grimace went away after a moment and she looked to him for more. He slowly sank to his knees and inched forward until her navel was above his nose, but he kept his distance with everything save for his mouth. Her legs automatically spread a little wider as his lower lip teased the back of her folds and his tongue brushed flat along her opening dragging up toward the swollen and neglected button. Her hands tightened around the neck of the bottle and the shot glass that fit perfectly in her palm as a shuddering exhale dragged from her throat.

The glass was cold on her stomach as he set it above his face, tipping it slowly to let the liquor run in rivulets down her skin to his waiting mouth. He caught the majority, some leaking down his cheeks to his jaw, and he closed with a swallow around her femininity, his tongue flicking against her clit as his lips suctioned her folds momentarily before releasing it all and pulling away. Her legs quaked and threatened to give out, and she hadn't realized that she'd firmly closed her eyes until he tapped the mini cup against her abdomen, demanding a refill.

Less than stable, her hand managed to pour it to half full before returning to her side. Less liquid meant more shots, right? Yeah, it was greedy, but at this moment? She was greedy. She wanted - no - needed more.

What she really wanted, perhaps needed, was for him to hold her up. Their position in the center of the bedroom meant there was nothing around to stabilize her if her legs decided to buckle. She didn't have more time to think on it, however, as his tongue softly licked her womanhood from bottom to top, the tip taking a moment to swirl slowly around the sensitive bud before moving down to dip inside and then swoop again the full length before pouring the rum to run down her skin once more.

Mouth open and tongue dancing against her button, she felt her lower stomach begin to tense as her toes curled into the floor. The feeling of him catching the liquor along with the hot sensation of the high-proof alcohol against her most-sensitive area was speeding her toward another climax. Her brain broke in to remind her that he probably wasn't going to let it happen any more than he had the previous two, and though Sydney had more hope than most, she did believe her mind over her heart on this matter.

On cue, his lips and tongue abandoned her center and canceled the crest of her orgasm, forcing it to settle back into the ocean of desire. Michael rose to watch her with deep green eyes as another trembling exhale fanned his chest, her teeth biting at her lower lip enough to sting as she scrunched her eyes closed. She took a stumbling step back to keep from tipping and his quick reaction to wrap an arm around her kept her from falling butt-first onto the hardwood floor at his feet. His hold was light, just enough to keep her steady, his other hand grabbing the bottle before it dropped.

"Back on the bed," he whispered, dropping a kiss to the top of her shoulder and letting go.

"Can I ask you a question?" Sitting heavily on the edge as the mattress sank a bit beneath her, she looked up at him with a thirsty purple/brown stare.

"Sure."

"How long can you keep this up?"

He nodded to the window in response. "Do you see the sun yet?"

Sydney groaned and let herself fall backward, her breasts bouncing as a sound of pure aggravation hit his ear. "And if I die?"

"Will you have learned your lesson?"

He didn't expect her to sit up on her elbows and furrow her brow. "I'm sorry," she said with genuine remorse in her voice.

Michael swallowed. "You're breaking the rules," he lightly chastised.

"Am I?"

He nodded. "We talk it out after."

Her sultry laugh made his stomach jump. "After I die or after I pass out? You'll eventually let me get off, and I'm fairly sure I won't be very coherent afterward."

His hands crossed back over his chest, though this time it wasn't to look intimidating - this time it was to hold back emotion. He wanted to let her have it, having waited all night without actually saying why he was so upset because they were supposed to get the negative emotion out during sex. He was supposed to get the aggression out with her during the throes of passion.

"Sydney," he started and then paused, trying to find something that would tide her over until they could truly say what they felt. "When you take risks like today, it just...it makes me wonder if I'm the only one that wants some kind of life when all this spy crap is done."

"Vaughn-"

"You have to admit that you end up on the receiving end of nights like this a hell of a lot more often than me. Yeah," he grinned, "I'm a Boy Scout and I live and breathe the rules, and I have a hell of a lot more to say, but that's not what now is for. Don't skip this part, Syd, it's one of the better ways we function with one another." He moved to stand between her legs looking down at her as she leaned back on her elbows, the position knowing or unknowingly thrusting her bosom forward.

A smile broke out juxtaposed by the sheen of tears in her eyes, "I do end up getting more than I give, don't I?"

"You know, if you just wanted rough sex, all you had to do was ask," he chuckled and leaned in to catch her lips.

Pushing up on her forearms, her lips attacked his and he let himself fall into her kiss willingly, fervently plundering her lips and tongue with his own. She never got tired of his kisses, always wanting more out of the slight peck in the morning or the times where his mouth completely conquered hers. This time, she was the plunderer and tried to drink in as much of his essence as she could to sustain her through the rest of his night, assuming that after this moment she'd be back to submitting.

Michael let her have a little control, though as their mouths melded together and he began to lose track of time, he fought to take it back. He gripped her thighs, the pantyhose silky against his palms, and as her tongue roughly traced his, he found himself grinding his hardness into her stomach. He needed to get back in charge, and fast, else she was going to tempt him from his secret goal.

Pulling away, he gestured with his nose for her to scoot back on the bed, his eyes taking in the red, chafed skin of her lips and chin as she slid away from him. Her chestnut hair fanned behind her and the long eyelashes pillowed atop her flushed cheekbones, her closed eyes showing off the faint eyeshadow still present along with the liner. He realized he was staring, shifting his eyes to the nightstand where his golden watch glinted in the light of the overhead lamp.

Hopping up to grab the small device, he slipped it snug over the pointer finger on his right hand. The button and battery sleeve were small but bulky against his nail, and little ridges of flexible silicone nibs wiggled as he pinched it to his thumb and rubbed the pads together. Her heavy-lidded eyes opened as he settled between her legs, her knees automatically hooking over his hips. Staying upright, his left hand wrapped around his hardness and ran the blunt end over her clit, her face contorting with pleasure. A tiny bit of pain poked its way up as the bud complained of misuse. It was beyond oversensitive, and the bucking of her hips was quite involuntary.

"There's a," she panted, "a really good chance that I come when you do this, you know that."

"It's happened before," he admitted, his voice on edge as he made another pass with his engorged flesh across her heat causing her to twitch again.

"Maybe I'll get lucky," she grinned.

Michael grinned, "so many guy jokes just ran through my brain." She shared his laugh as her body tensed in expectation, but he was content to torture her by repeatedly skipping the opening. Thankfully, he'd been avoiding the super-stimulated button the last few times, but she was left breathlessly waiting.

The crown was wet with her juices and he used his hand to spread it around and down the shaft before nestling it at her entrance. Pressing in just enough to engulf the tip, he activated the mini finger vibrator, curiosity shining on her face. He winked and brought it up to her neck, the light buzzing against her skin making her shudder at the tickling sensation. Setting it at the pulse point between her collarbones, he inched forward with his hips burying another fraction of himself into her channel.

Her eyes fluttered closed as a soft moan left her lips, her hands clutching the tussled blanket to keep from reaching out as her legs tightened around his backside trying to pull him deeper. He shook his head keeping that from happening, though he knew most of her reactions at the moment were involuntary. One of his favorite things was to watch her completely succumb to her passion. Rosy cheeks and parted pouty lips, he dragged the device up the edge of her left breast to circle the areola and brush the nipple as he slipped in another few millimeters.

She gripped the first half of him like a glove and he danced his buzzing finger over the other peak, the nipple hardening more at the vibration and slightly sticky silicone that clung to the puckered flesh. Finishing his entrance and finally sheathed in her core, he squeezed his eyes closed and let out a deep groan at the fluttering sensation of her inner muscles.

Missing was the orgasm, however, Sydney not ending up as lucky as she'd wished. The warmth of her channel felt like a velvet-lined vice, and he pulled back to sink in once more. Skimming the vibrator over each tight abdominal muscle, he found a rhythm of slow thrusts, some full and others half, that put her in a constant state of drunk bliss. Of course, the rum shots on an empty stomach may have also contributed.

Flicking the top of the silicone-covered finger against the swollen bundle of concentrated nerves, her hips lifted up and her mewling groan filled the room. The signs were there; she was close. With three quick thrusts, he felt her begin to tighten both around his cock and around his hips, and on the fourth, he slammed to the hilt and held still forcing her to back off yet again.

"Damn it, Michael, please! I can't do this anymore!" Her plea was a beg, a growl, and order all in one, and he knew she'd finally broken. His work here was done. Truthfully? He'd also lost his patience.

Leaning forward and propping on his left hand, his mouth attacked her neck with a series of nips and suctioning kisses.

"I'm done," he promised in her ear, and her hands flew up from the comforter to clutch at his shoulders, arms, and neck in sweeping motions, one ending up in his hair to hold him against the sensitive pulse point he was currently exploring. "Do you want me to be gentle?" His ask fanned a ragged breath against her heated throat.

"God no," she demanded with a mewling exhale.

The rising wave hadn't really settled in her stomach, and an ache of pressure above her center was ever-present though overshadowed by the unfathomable pleasure brought by his pistoning hips. He was true to his word and gentle wasn't how he was going to finish their night. His slapped against her as he worked within the constraints of her clutching crossed legs around the small of his back, and a sheen of sweat broke out on both.

Her ragged breathing and lusty moans echoed in his ear as her muscles began to coil ready for release. As her orgasm rose, she honestly expected one last trick, but as the vibrating finger on his hand that she'd honestly forgotten about descended over her swollen clit, she finally dove off the ledge into the black swirling abyss as it turned into a fiery explosion of colors behind her eyelids.

Every nerve ending in her body, and especially those tied to her sex, instantly electrified. With arms and legs clinging desperately around him, fingernails digging into the back of his neck and shoulder blade, she felt him slow to let her ride it out.

Her words were half-moaned through clenched teeth, "d-don't stop, please don't stop."

So he didn't. He picked up the pace and drove two more other chasm-opening climaxes from her before she felt the tell-tale signs of his impending release. The sounds from his throat went low and gravelly and his chest tilted into her, his forearms stretching beneath her shoulders to flatten against the bed. As he exploded against her walls she loosed a final mini orgasm around his throbbing member as their cries mixed low and high.

She felt like cotton had been stuffed behind her eyes and deep in her ears, everything tingly and fuzzy as she tried to make sense of the moment, but that became too hard.

Vaughn found her lips, brushing a kiss before resting his forehead against hers as they gasped for air, the cool breeze of the apartment chilling their overheated skin.

He felt her arms and legs slip away, a light impish laugh rumbling his chest as he realized that she was already falling asleep. Or passing out. His ego wanted the latter, but his logic understood that it was most likely the first. She'd been up for over 24 hours before they'd even started their night. Add that to a tense, action-packed mission and plenty of time getting yelled at, she was exhausted and then he'd pushed her. So he let her slip away as their sated bodies lay atop the blankets.

Pulling out and away, he turned down her side of the bed as far as he could before lifting her gently into his arms and transferring her to the cool sheet below. Taking the thigh-high hose off each leg, his fingers dancing briefly over the pattern they'd left on her skin, he pressed a kiss to her forehead. She immediately recognized that she was being tucked in despite being well into the land of slumber and rolled to her side with a hand tucked beneath her cheek.

Vaughn slid his abandoned pair of boxers on and went through the apartment to lock the doors and hit the lights, fatigue beginning to poke at the back of his mind as he realized he was also nearing the 24-hour mark with no sleep. Heading back to the bedroom, she hadn't moved an inch, and he decided that passing out was a grand idea.

Unfortunately, his mind had other plans. Nearly an hour later, as a faint orange glow hit the bedroom window making him grin, he looked down at her hand as it lay over his heart and found his fingers tracing the engagement ring. A dark cloud interrupted reminding him that he'd not actually had a chance to say what he felt needed to be said, and the more he thought the more he realized it wasn't something he'd likely ever say.

Even thinking it now felt intrusive and foreign, but those words had lingered on his lips when she'd challenged him earlier.

"If you pull something like London again, I'm taking back that ring."

Would he actually?

Probably not. He didn't believe in fate or destiny, but the cogs in the grand machine of their lives had been spinning and hurtling toward one another for a long time, only meeting two years ago to find that they were patented for one another as the teeth fit together perfectly. One couldn't exist without the other, but the other or the one that had a penchant for barreling head-first into gunfire and trouble threatened to send the whole mess to a grinding halt.

Vaughn's eyes shifted to study her serene face as she slept, all of her cares and woes disappearing, though he could see the blue hint of a bruise sneaking through the makeup at the edge of her jaw. He delicately ran the pads of his fingers over the spot with a sigh and returned his eyes to the ceiling.

He'd never be able to take back any part of his love for her, even if she pushed. Which she would; that he knew.

"You're thinking very loudly," she muttered against his shoulder.

A grin broke his concentration as he let out an airy chuckle through his nose. "You're supposed to be sleeping."

She hum/grumbled what he thought was supposed to be a word, but wasn't sure what it could have been, following it up with, "mnnnnhmm." Rolling away from him and scooting back, Vaughn got the hint and turned to spoon behind her and she felt his lips press several kisses to the back of her neck and shoulder. "I know you didn't get off four times like I did, but you still have to be tired."

He peeked and saw the dimpled smile over her shoulder. "I'll turn my brain off," he promised and tucked his nose into her perfumed hair.

'The good like this makes the bad worth it, right?'

He drifted away without the answer, but despite that, he felt sated.

...