(Valentine's Day) Behind Blue Eyes

This is my entry for the February challenge over at www.SD-1.com Lyrics are from The Who’s “Behind Blue Eyes.”

Title: (Valentine’s Day) Behind Blue Eyes
Author: landi104
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Sydney feels pathetic on Valentines day and consoles herself, only to be overheard by her arch-nemesis who gives her a better form of comfort.
Relationship: Sarkney AU
The Challenge

Much unhappiness has come into thirld rld because of things left unsaid. Such is the case in my life. I’ve never told the woman I love just how I feel for her, and I don’t know if I ever will.

No one knows what it's like
To be the bad man
To be the sad man
Behind blue eyes

My whole life, others have wondered just what it’s like to be me. I don’t think they want to know.

No one knows what it's like
To be hated
To be fated
To telling only lies

It’s true, I enjoy being feared and hated, but at what cost does that come? I have nothing to show for it except money, and power. But I have no one. I’m alone in this world.

But my dreams
They aren't as empty
As my conscience seems to be

I dream that one day I can have a house with a white picket fence, a loving wife and children, maybe even a dog. That’s what’s in place of my conscience–hopes and dreams.

I have hours, only lonely
My love is vengeance
That's never free

No one knows what it's like
To feel these feelings
Like I do
And I blame you

I have no one to blame for me being the way that I am. I have purposefully made myself into who I am today. I didn’t ask to be brought into this life. I can blame Irina Derevko for that.

No one bites back as hard
On their anger
None of my pain and woe
Can show through

When my fist clenches, crack it open
Before I use it and lose my cool
When I smile, tell me some bad news
Before I laugh and act like a fool

I do haeelieelings, but I hide them behind an indifferent mask. I’m angry over what my life has become. But because of what I am now, and what I do, I cannot let my anger show through. I have to maintain the facade. If I don’t, it could cost me my life.

If I swallow anything evil
Put your finger down my throat
If I shiver, please give me a blanket
Keep me warm, let me wear your coat

No one is here for me. No one takes pity on me, nor would I ask anyone to do so. I do want someone to feel sympathy and compassion for me. But what I want most of all is for someone to love me.

No one knows what it's likeTo be the bad man
To be the sad man
Behind blue eyes

No one knows what it’s like to be me, I keep telling myself that, but is that really true? I can think of only one other person in the world that is like me, and I’m supposed to meet her shortly. We’re destined to work together; I’ve even told her that, repeatedly. It’s time I tell her that again, among the other things that are on my mind. . .

*~*~*

Much unhappiness has come into this world because of things left unsaid. There’s a lot of things I should’ve said but haven’t. My true feelings for a certain devilishly-handsome blue-eyed assassin are at the top of that list.

How pathetic am I, alone and thinking about a wanted terrorist on Valentine’s Day? What am I saying? Sark’s probably alone as well. He better be. I kicked off my shoes, leaving them in the living room. Why can’t I stop thinking about him? It’s been a long day and I need to clear my head. Maybe a shower will help.

I made my way to the bedroom, eager to get under the hot spray. I took off my suit-jacket, and hung it back in my closet. As I peeled off my skirt, I realized that it would have to be dry-cleaned sooner than I thought since there was a mustard stain just above the hem. And I thought I had caught that blob of mustard that was falling from my sandwich. Guess not.

Next came the bra, and my nipples were taut in the friction of removing it, sending shivers through me. My panties soon followed–moist with anticipation of my shower–as I made my way to the bathroom. Thinking of Sark does that to me too. Sh*t! I keep thinking about him. Maybe I need to go see a shrink. I have to stop. I slid the pantyhose down my legs, one at a time, wishing it weren’t my hanbut but his. . .

I started the shower, and the room started steaming up, the mirror fogging over. I adjusted the temperature just right, and stepped in.

As I lathered up, again my thoughts drifted to how pathetic I am. Alone on Valentine’s day! I wish Sark was with me, right here. I could just imagine him in the shower with me, the water cascading down his smooth, muscular body. . . . .I could feel the arousal building up inside me. I needed to quench this yearning. My hands drifted lower, until I reached my folds, wet with anticipation. He always had this effect on me.

I slipped two fingers in, feeling my walls clench. God this felt good. Now all I had to do was. . . . .imagine it was him. I wish he would get here already! I miss him. . .

As I got closer to orgasm, I couldn’t contain myself anymore. "Sark, oh God Sark. . .yes!!! Oh yes!!!"

Not soonern I n I called his name, I felt like I was being watched. I turned off the shower, and grabbed the towel on the hook, wrapping it around myself while I was still in the shower. As I stepped out, I heard his voice. My heart soared at the fact that he came back.

"For the record," he began, his voice sounding mostly serious, but she could sense an underlying tone of teasing. "Most men prefer a woman to call out their first name in the throes of passion."

She turned around, and rolled her eyes in disgust, angry for him being so late. "What, are you here to ask me to take down the Covenant with you?"

Sark took a step towards her, pressing his hands together. "Yes, but I was hoping we can work together in ‘other ways’ as well."

Sydney gripped her towel tighter around herself. "You’re a dog."

"Do you want me to lie down on my back so you can scratch my belly?"

Sydney slapped him, and he grabbed her arm and twisted it behind her back. His breathing on her neck sent ripples down her spine and through her core. "You do ize ize that I can call the CIA and have you locked up for all eternity."

She wriggled out of his grasp, and he pressed her into the wall, with his lips pressed against Sydney’s ear. "If you wanted to do that, you would have already. Stop being so angry and just admit that you’re happy to see me. It’ll make your life easier, and we’ll both be much happier."

She could feel his warm breath against her ear, it it was driving her crazy. "You’re right I would have. What do you want?"

He didn’t answer her verbally. Instead, Sark captured her lips roughly with his in a passionate kiss. She was shocked at first, but soon started kissing back with the same amount of passion. Sydney could feel her body warm up to him, her nipples hardening with arousal, and they were molding together as if made for each other. Sark hugged her every curve like a glove, and she relished in the sensation of it. His tongue traced the outline of her lips, begging for entrance. She nipped his adorably crooked lower lip, then let him in, wrapping her arms around his neck to play with the curls at the base of his skull.

Sark slid a hand up her smooth thigh, instantly giving her goose bumps. Their tongues intertwined in a glorious dance, and she could taste the wine he had earlier in the evening–Chateau Petruse ‘82, no doubt. It was sweet and intoxicating, but not as much as he was. Sark had this hold on her from the moment she saw him, but she never fully let him know it until now. He moved his hand up to cup her breast, and a soft moan escaped Sydney’s lips as he rubbed her hard nub. She spread her legs farther apart and he nestled himself between them, his erection rubbing against her through his jeans.

He broke the kiss, looking at her intently. “I’m sorry I’m late. I take it you’ve missed me?” She just nodded her head, shyly smiling. He traced kisses along her jaw and started sucking on her pulse point. He knew that was a sensitive spot for her, and she let out yet another moan.

He pushed her up the wall, and Sydney straddled him, wrapping her legs around Sark’s waist. “You’re wearing too many clothes.” Sydney slid his leather jacket off, and his sweater soon followed, revealing a smooth, hard chest riddled with scars from old wounds. She found it irresistible. She ran her hands across it, pinching his nipples along the way. Sark let out a groan, and picked her off the wall, losing the towel and carrying her to the bedroom.

Sark placed her on the edge of bed,bed, and he kissed her again, Sydney’s hands flying to his belt buckle. She undid the clasp, taking his pants off to reveal a classic set of black silk boxers bulging with his growing erection. That made her insides yearn for him even more.

He slid her up the bed, laying on top of her. The silk of his boxers was smooth against her bare skin, and looked at her appreciatively, in all her glory. “God you’re so beautiful.”

“So are you.”

Their lips found each other again, and she slid her hands down, freeing Sark’s erection of his boxers. She could fell him wet against her, and she was moist in anticipation herself. She spread her legs for him again, and Sark slid two fingers in her moist folds. She sighed out loud, and his smirk found its way to Sark’s face. He lowly slid his fingers in and out, and she quickly started to clench around him. His mouth made his way down to her breast, first nipping then soothingly sucking her nipple. He pinched her clitoris, sending her over the edge, her screams filling the room.

She flipped him over, and made her way down to his erection. She licked the beads of pre-cum off of the tip of his shaft, taking him in her mouth agonizingly slow. He let out a low growl, his eyes rolling back in his head. Sark ran his fingers through her silky hair, and guiding her up and down his shaft. She gently dragged her teeth along him, sending him over the edge while he was gripping the sheets around him.

Sydney made her way back up his torso. He kissed her, and they could taste themselves on the other. As their tongues mingled together, the temperature in the room began to rise once again. Sark flipped her over, never kingking the kiss, and slid himself inside her. Her nails gripped at his shoulders breaking the skin, while getting accustomed to his size. Noone had ever filled her the way he did. He pulled himself in and out of her, and she soon copied his rhythm. She imitated his gesture from before and trailed kisses along his neck, then sucking the pulse point on the right side of his neck. He took a nipple in his mouth, alternately biting and sucking it. As their arousal built, their thrusts became more frantic and their breaths more erratic. Sydney started softly moaning his name, and he knew she was close to her orgasm. He thrust into her harder, deeper and faster, sending her screaming over the edge. “Oh God. . .Julian!!!” The clenching of her inner walls made it hard for him to conatin himself any longer, and he came deeply inside her.

Sark rolled himself off of her, and she relaxed herself into his chest. “That sounds much better. We should fight more often, love.”

She giggled. “I love make up sex.”

She kissed each one of his scars, and in turn kissed him, laying her head back down on his chest, smiling.

Sark stroked her hair, and genuinely smiled. “What are you so happy about?”

Sydney looked up at him, her eyes twinkling. “That was definitely better than what I hoped to achieve in the shower by myself.”