The Differences Between
by Elishavah, for Jess
"That was...different."
The slightly out-of-breath words slipped through the buzz of what had to be the most disturbing orgasm Sydney could recall. Her hand stopped hand mid-stroke on Sark's shoulder.
"Than what?" Realization struck and she curled her fingers, digging her nails into flesh; she could only hope it was deep enough to draw blood. "Or should I ask 'Who?'"
Sark pulled back with a frown, "Ow," but didn't lift off her. Reality suddenly bearing down on her even more than him, Sydney wanted him gone, out, now, right now. She brought her other hand up, ready to truly strike, but she was the one to wince as he withdrew from her with casual yet quick grace. Even then, the narrowness of the couch kept him snug against her side. Better...but not.
The inevitable rush of air blew over her damp skin and she threw her left hand out over the edge, fingers searching fabric, wood, rug, hunting for the her shirt, why wasn't...where the hell was--?
Sark leaned over her. She hissed in a breath, nerve endings firing to life again regardless of her wishes. Cool cloth swept over her legs before she could snap, and then he was resting against the couch back again. She reflexively sat up to clutch at the shirt, tugging it to cover her breasts while she scooted to one end and tucked her legs beneath her to distance herself completely from him.
But the shirt was hardly in place when a finger traced her skin at the barrier. Her body, now trained to his touch, shuddered. Sheer force of will kept her from compounding that admission of weakness by arching into his hand and, determined to recover whatever ground possible, she whipped her head around to glare.
Amused blue eyes met hers. "A little late for this--" his finger hooked to pull at the cloth, grazing her nipple; her breath caught, "--isn't it?"
Sydney batted his hand away. At least it wasn't too late to deal with that.
"Tell me," she demanded from between clenched teeth.
Still stretched out without a stitch of clothing, he braced his arm on the couch and cocked his head, resting his chin on his hand. "Tell you what, exactly?"
"Don't give me that. I asked a question and you know what it was. What did you mean?"
The amusement spread to twist his mouth and he started playing with the sleeve trailing against her knee. She hugged the shirt closer. "Dammit, Sark..."
"Apparently we're not in the mood to be distracted again."
She bit her lower lip and winced at how sore it already was...and again at the memory of his teeth clamping down there to keep her from breaking away from that first shocking kiss. There were probably bruises all over her. Sex with Sark had been an awful lot like the fight it had interrupted -- in fact, it might have been just a continuation, she realized -- but damn if she was going to check for injuries right now. She frowned. "No, 'we're' not."
"You might at least thank me for the shirt."
Her fingers tightened. "Sure. Thanks. Now talk."
Sark sighed and sat up, swinging his legs over the side so he could reach for his own clothes. That effectively kept his face turned away when he said: "You were...different than I expected."
Sydney froze. "You expected? You--" oh, god, "--you thought about what this, what I would be like?"
He stood. "I'm a man."
She watched him yank on his pants. "Uh, yeah." He narrowed his eyes and she rolled hers. "I figured that out on my own."
"This wasn't a demonstration."
Idiot, growling at her. He can take his male pride and-- "And I didn't need one. Of that, or of anything else."
Sark paused with only one arm in his shirt. "No, you didn't."
She refused to ask the question that time.
End
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A/N: Really no tie to any episode whatsoever. It's not quite romance, but I was good; I didn't kill anyone.
Disclaimer: The Alias Universe is the property of ABC, Bad Robot Productions, and JJ Abrams. These works of fanfiction do not infringe that copyright, and no profit is made from them.