| | Title: THAT DAMN STRIPTEASE Rating: NC -17
Timeline: In the middle of Double Agent
Disclaimer: The Wind Done Gone Defense
A/N: This was Siryn's birthday fic.
It was all calculated – a show. Every sensuous step, every shift of her hips, every divine self-aware movement was all for her audience. And she captivated her audience very well.
He watched her slowly emerge from the water, and he knew every man at the pool had given her their full and undivided attention.
It was exquisite torture. How was he supposed to restrain himself? How had he ever lasted this long in the first place? The fantasy he had dreamed over endless nights was right before his eyes in living breathing color and his for the taking yet it remained . . . unconsummated. And all he wanted to do was break protocol and ravish her as soon as she got inside the tent.
Sure they had dinner plans for Friday night, and he was confident where dinner would inevitably lead . . . But hadn’t they waited long enough? A year and a half of longing looks. It was a testament to their professionalism that they had not subverted the warehouse long ago for much more nefarious purposes than secret briefings. He had read it in her eyes. There were moments in that dark, sweltering warehouse, where she wouldn’t have been averse to a more personal debriefing.
So there he was, watching her progress as if he was a horny teenager spying on the sexy next door neighbor sunbathing. And while officially her performance was to attract Jezek, he knew there was something extra in her movements just for him.
He longed to be the water cascading down her curves, or the heels as she delicately slipped her feet into them, or the towel she pressed against her face, or the filmy bit of material that had the privilege of wrapping around and clinging to her wet thighs.
And as she turned to the tent, towards him, she had the most devilish smile on her face. It took him a full minute for thought to catch up to his brain and realize that she had undone her bikini top and it was slipping down, her breasts sagging just slightly now unsupported by the underwires. His erection on the other hand, processed this sight instantaneously and now betrayed his hard-fought professionalism. His newfound status as Sydney’s partner promised to be eye opening.
She slipped into the tent to face him. Her movements carried such grace he could have sworn she had just floated in.
“Sydney.” His voice was low and hoarse and he couldn’t help but lick his lips in anticipation.
“Yes?” She truly was evil and could very well get them killed, but this didn’t matter as he watched her grin widen. Her hands released the top and it slowly slid down her cleavage to catch, just barely on her nipples. She undulated her torso causing the material to fall softly to the ground, exposing herself to his hungry gaze.
“We still have a mission to complete.” Despite his words, he found himself inching towards her, wanting to breathe her into his soul.
“I know.” She leans towards him, drawn by that same unseen force.
The moment seems to exist in a vacuum, outside of time. His hands hover lightly over her waist, not touching, just a whisper away of feeling skin on skin. They slide up and up and his senses are screaming at him to touch her, to memorize her through his fingertips.
And finally, he makes contact as his fingers pinch her already alert nipple.
She yelps in surprise and looks down at the erotic sight of him teasing her.
With his other hand he cups her jaw, drawing her into a fierce and impatient kiss. It is vastly different from their previous two kisses. While the others evoked tenderness and reaffirmed their bond, this one is born solely out of lust.
He feels her hands on his waist, urgently unbuckling his belt and unzipping his pants. She kneels down on her knees in front of him, her breast swaying freely with the motion. She quickly strips him of his boxers and pauses to admire the sight of him, like a present that exists only for her. He watches her lick her lips with that same devilish grin from earlier. She lets out a contented sigh as her lips part, open, soft, wet, and she plants them on the tip of his erection . . .
* * * * * *
“Vaughn.”
He opens his eyes slowly to a sight he plans on seeing first thing in the morning for many days in the future.
“The plane will be landing in twenty minutes. I thought I’d wake you up.”
He shifts a bit disoriented and he realizes he had fallen asleep on her shoulder. He feels somewhat bashful for this. In his previous daydreams, he had always been her post-mission pillow.
“Sorry, I guess I fell asleep.”
“I didn’t mind at all. This is nice.” He thinks he will lose himself in her eyes at her trust in him. “So you had a good dream?” She arcs her eyebrow and cast a mischievous glance at the tent between his thighs.
He feels his cheeks start to burn. “I, ah . . .”
“What were you dreaming about?” It is a soft whisper in his ear.
“You. The tent. And that damn striptease you put me through.”
He is rewarded with a full dimple smile.
“Don’t worry lover.” She catches his lower lip in lingering kiss. “Soon.”
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