Happy New Year:

Rating: M - 100%

Timeline: S2 - because I'm stuck in the past. Throwing a curve ball though: middle of Season Two! After The Getaway but before Phase One.

Part 1:

With each step through the crunching snow, their feet painfully numb, Sydney and Vaughn finally spotted the small cabin-esque safe house on the next hilltop.

"Great, now all we need to do is hike over to it," she grunted in a strained voice as she squeezed closer to her handler for warmth. The cold of the Ural Mountain's Russian winter was beginning to seep through her layers, though she was thankful that the three-foot deep drift of snow they'd been hiking through for the last two hours had efficiently numbed the throbbing of her leg.

"It's bleeding again." Michael commented, breathing against her mask-covered face as his arm held tight to her waist to try and keep as much weight off of her injured thigh as possible. She followed his gaze, seeing several drops of red dying the snow and marking the path behind them – though being up to their knees and trudging through the muck hadn't exactly awarded them time or energy to cover their tracks.

"You mean still," she grunted, keeping a firm hold around his neck, her arm losing circulation due to his height but she didn't care.

"C'mon, it's not too much farther, lemme carry you. Please?" he begged, seeing her agitated glare through the ridiculously wide ski goggles. Despite the tough wall she'd constructed at the forefront of her gaze, he'd learned to look deeper. The first emotion she showed - outside the warehouse - was usually a decoy, and he was determined to read her like the open book she was. Well…to him anyway. He saw the reflections of pain and anger at the failure of the mission, but also warmth that he assumed was caused by his companionship. Or maybe that she didn't have her trusting SD-6 partner here to lie to. As time wore on, he knew that the lies were beginning to weigh heavily on her shoulders – especially for one so keen on finding the truth in everything she did.

"I'm fine. It's not too far ahead, then I'll play doctor with you."

Though he couldn't see her dimples or her smile, he knew by the sound of her voice that both were present.

He nodded reluctantly and accepted more of her weight, pushing through the snow. "Fine, but if it gets to be too much, let me know. I won't tell a soul that I carried you, I promise, Miss Super Spy."

She laughed, the small puff of steam coming from behind the thin cotton of her face mask. An hour later, after many trips, slips, and stumbles, they made it to the entryway of the cabin. He fumbled around while searching for the key, his large gloved hands complicating things. Lifting his mask up over his chin and lips, he pulled off his glove with his teeth. The biting air made his already tingling fingers flinch, but he managed to find the key and open the door all without dropping his agent.

"Okay, Syd, here we are. Home sweet home until I can get us an extraction," he grunted as he half-dragged her into the cabin, Sydney letting go of his neck before flopping down onto an old dusty sofa.

She reached up, grabbing the bottom of the mask and pulled it up over her head and tossed it toward the opposite end of the couch. Her gloves went next, though her numb and shaking fingers were having difficulties undoing the buttons of her jacket.

"Here, let me help."

Crouching down in front of her, mindful of her bandaged leg, he deftly got her jacket open and slid it off, carrying it over to the kitchen. She shivered on the couch and peered around the room. For a run down safe house, this place wasn't too bad. Maintenance had been marginally kept up, though everything was covered in a layer of fine dust.

He removed the bandage, blood oozing out from the heavy pants she wore. "Okay, gimme your hand, we need to put some pressure here. I'm probably going to need to sew it up. This'll probably work better if you're on the bed." Rising quickly, he grabbed the first-aid kit from the marked case in the corner and moved to kneel in front of her once more.

He paused, slightly at a loss of what to say or do. The only way he was going to be able to fix her leg up would be for her to remover her pants – and this was quickly going to an area where he'd sternly forbidden himself to tread. The Relationship Zone was a no-no, and here he was about to ask the woman he was infatuated with to take off her trousers.

"Vaughn? You okay?" she asked, her teeth clenched as she forced her hands to press over the aching knife wound on her leg. She couldn't get over the image of Vaughn's furious face when the guard had slammed the five-inch blade into her upper thigh. It made her feel warm inside, though she was desperately trying not to allow the feelings back in.

'You remember last time? When you two had to bolt from the restaurant, lie to both SD-6 and the CIA just to save your asses?' her mind scolded, and she lowered her gaze from his.

"Umm…If I'm gonna do this, I need – uh – need you to take off your…pants," he stuttered, Sydney's eyes widening as a blush crept up from her neck.

"Do you think that's a good idea?" she asked quietly, her question not entirely referring to her injury.

He thought for a moment before replying, his immediate answer being a swift 'yes,' but that was his heart talking. His mind was screaming, 'This is such a bad idea,' and he wasn't entirely sure to which part of his body he should be listening.

With the thought of him working over Sydney's nearly nude form, another body part was begging its master to hear his input, but Vaughn shifted on the floor to avoid further suspicion from the worried young woman in front of him.

'What would Weiss do in this situation? Definitely go for the humor approach,' his mind countered.

"At least I'll be able to see you half-naked."

He swore he heard crickets, but it was way too cold for crickets.

Absolute silence.

"That sounded a lot better in my head," he mumbled, standing up and holding his hands out to her.

"Look, we need to take care of this right now. We can worry about the awkwardness later."

Lifting her up into his arms, he finally found the single bedroom that the cabin sported. The twin bed sat in the middle of the floor, the blankets looking surprisingly fresh compared to the rest of the furniture in the safe house.

"You just…just get ready, and I'll go get the stuff. Hopefully we'll have something to dull the pain with," he abruptly turned and walked from the room. "Call me when you're ready."

She could hear him rummaging around in the living room and went about trying to get the pants off without further injuring herself. After a solid five minutes of struggling, she heard his footsteps approaching.

"Syd? Can I come in?" His voice was tentative, and despite all of her hard work, the pants were merely sitting lower on her hips.

"Umm, I can't really do it," she admitted, a hint of shyness in her voice.

"What do you mean you can't do it? Can't do what?" he asked, merely a voice from the hallway since she couldn't see him.

"I can't get the damned pants off!" she growled, crossing her arms over her chest and glaring at the far wall.

"Okay, I'm comin' in alright?"

Walking into the room, he fought the urge to laugh as the defiant child-like woman sat giving him the eyes of death.

"We're in this together, okay?" he spoke reassuringly, getting all the supplies set out on the edge of the bed before sitting down next to her legs. He reached up, pushing aside any and all embarrassment as he continually reminded himself that, 'Yes, this is Sydney - the same Sydney you've wanted to boink all year, but this Sydney is hurt. This is a hurt Sydney. She needs your help, not your cock.'

Ending his train of thought there, he managed to tug down the first layer of pants, seeing her camouflage jeans below. He gently removed her boots and placed them at the end of the bed.

He looked up, a big mistake, as he saw the pain, confusion and embarrassment shining in her large Bambi-like brown eyes. "You okay?"

She nodded, not trusting her throat to speak as his hands moved to her waist, undoing the belt…then the button…then the zipper. Her body was practically humming, contrary to what she was telling herself. 'Yes, this is Vaughn, - the same Vaughn you've wanted to boink you all year, but this Vaughn wants to help. This is a helping Vaughn. He needs your cooperation, not your drool.'

She tried to angle her hips up, even though her thigh felt like it was on fire, failing when it caused Vaughn's thumb to brush against her sensitive cotton-covered mound.

She jumped…

He jumped…

His eyes met hers, and she instantly looked down at her lap, squeezing out a small breath of air as he fought his trembling fingers and pulled her pants off the rest of the way. The cloth dangling from the hole in the upper thigh had adhered to a few parts of her injury, tearing the clotted blood away and causing fresh to flow.

She winced, Vaughn apologizing as the red liquid oozed over the side of her creamy white thigh and onto the towel he'd set underneath her leg.

"Damn, Syd, this looks pretty bad," he gnawed his lower lip, setting a cold washcloth against the wound and pressing down.

"Ow!" she cried out, smacking at his arm.

"What?! C'mon, Syd, pressure!" he growled, seeing her frown.

He was now glad that Weiss hadn't been able to come with them, for this situation would be highly comical to the fat agent. Sydney and Vaughn, sitting on a bed together in the middle of nowhere – Sydney already half naked – and Vaughn's hands pressing into her thighs.

The mental image was enough to rouse his libido, and he prayed that with all the heavy layers she wouldn't notice.

"I'm gonna have to sew it, Sydney, there's no way it'll close without a little help."

"Fine…just – just do it," she ordered, steeling herself to assist. "What do you need me to do?"

Vaughn jumped off the bed, yanking both his jacket and sweater off in one pull. He had to tear his eyes away from the young woman leaning against the headboard, the sexy yet subdued black underwear showing her slim hips while keeping everything else hidden from his gaze.

Not that he hadn't attempted a look. Or two.

"Okay, we'll just go one step at a time. You keep the pressure while I grab the alcohol."

"No, thanks," she retorted.

"Sydney, we need to clean it out. Alcohol is all we have."

"Unless it's rum and it's going into my mouth, the answer is no."

Vaughn sighed, a small smile peeking as he stared at the stubborn young woman bleeding in front of him. "Sydney, how old are you?"

"I will kick your ass, I swear," she warned as he sobered, pushing the dental floss through the eye of the needle.

To her credit, she was remarkably calm through the suturing process, Vaughn wincing each time she let out a little groan or grunt of pain. By the time he was finished, he'd moved his body up over her legs, practically straddling her knees to manage the angle of the wound.

He pulled his head back from his hunched over position, feeling for the first time the grip of Sydney's hand at the back of his neck. Vaughn surveyed his stitching, determining that it should hold up until they could get to a hospital, and without thinking he pressed his lips above the laceration. Her fingers tightened against the nape of his neck, Michael taking a moment to look up at her startled face.

A blush crept up his cheeks and he pulled back, grabbing the discarded washcloth and dabbing at the excess blood that covered her thigh. Once the creamy skin was clean he pulled the downy quilt up to her stomach after getting off of the bed.

"You should probably contact my father," she suggested, trying to overcome the awkward intimacy that had popped up between them.

If Jack Bristow wasn't a cold shower on a hard cock, he wasn't sure what was.

He nodded, leaving the room and putting as much distance between him and his agent as he could. He grabbed the backpack and extracted his CIA-issue brick of a phone, dialing Jack's secure cell.

"Agent Vaughn, I trust that your lack of punctuality isn't going to continue, is it?" the gruff voice growled over the earpiece, Vaughn rolling his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose with thumb and forefinger before answering.

"We had some complications. There was more security than we thought and Sydney was injured. We missed our time table, but got the intel."

"Good. Is Sydney all right?"

'I'm fine, too, Jack, thanks for asking.' He smirked at his internal thought, knowing that the Sr. Bristow wouldn't hesitate to shoot him if he'd actually said it aloud. "She's got a bad gash on her thigh, but I stitched it up and she seems to be fine. That's why it took us so long to get to the safe house. Any chance for an extraction tonight?" he asked, lifting his wrist and glancing down at his watch. .

"No, with the snow storm blowing in, all flights out of Moscow have been grounded. Looks like you're stuck there for at least a couple of days. Is there food?"

"Yeah, about a million cans of condensed soup. We'll live," he sighed, flipping open a few of the cabinets and seeing the white and red letters of Campbell's Tomato Soup staring back at him.

"Contact me if anything changes." And with that, he was gone. Vaughn hit the end button and tossed the gigantic phone over to the couch.

"Hey, Syd?"

"Yeah?"

"You hungry?" He grabbed two cans, bringing them to the room while looking at the labels. "We've got Campbell's Tomato and Kroger Tomato. Any prefer…" he stopped mid sentence, seeing her wide eyes looking up at him in the doorway. She was about half dressed, obviously having just raided the one bag they'd managed to salvage from the transport before retreating into the woods. His sweatpants were rolled up low on her hips and she was in the process of buttoning one of his blue oxfords over her bare skin.

He could plainly see the valley between her breasts, her alabaster skin shining despite the dim light of the room.

"Umm…sorry, I – I didn't mean to barge in," he paused, "I didn't know you were…putting on my – clothes," he finished, feeling the erection he'd managed to finally get rid of spring back to life.

"Well…in the rush we grabbed your stuff and not mine, so I figured you'd rather have me clothed than naked," she joked, her delicate fingers finishing the trail of buttons until he wasn't able to see any more of her edible skin other than the 'V' made by his shirt.

'O, yeah. That would be a bad thing – not.'

"Oh, well I brought extra clothes anyway, I usually do." He blushed at his statement, seeing her smile.

"Like a good little Boy Scout. What did you say about food?" Limping toward the door, she shook off his attempts at helping her, and he reminded himself again that this was Sydney Bristow Wonder Woman, and was thus beyond the need for aide by a mere mortal man.

Managing without incident to reach the couch, she did accept his hand so she wouldn't have to really bend her leg too much. Stretching it out along the length of the sofa, she turned her attention up to him.

"We've basically got tomato soup. Maybe chicken noodles if I rummage deep enough. You okay with that?"

"Fine with me," she muttered, grabbing an old afghan off the back of the couch and bunching it underneath her head as a makeshift pillow. "You know what would be great? A fire in that fireplace," she suggested while closing her eyes and cuddling farther into his soft shirt.

It smelled like him. Like the aftershave and the cologne he wore. She didn't know what kind it was, and she really didn't care, but the scent had become uniquely Vaughn. On occasion, someone would walk past her in a crowded café with the scent and, though she knew that even if it was Michael Vaughn that she couldn't chance a glance or conversation, she looked anyway.

Of course, it never was him, but hell, she could hope, couldn't she?

The next thing she knew, she was roused by a gentle shake, opening her eyes to see Vaughn squatting beside the couch with the glow of the fire behind him.

"I didn't really want to wake you up, but the soup's ready."

"I didn't mean to fall asleep," she mumbled with a yawn, stretching her arms up over her head, the bottom of the shirt riding up and exposing a bit of her stomach to his hungry gaze. She attempted to push herself up, but his hand and smile stopped her.

Sliding the steaming mug of red soup into her chilled fingers, she thanked him as he sat on the floor with his back to the fire with his own cup.

Dinner was quiet, each sneaking glances and longing stares, quickly looking back into their near-empty bowls when they got caught.

"Umm…good dinner." She smiled, setting her finished cup on her bent knee, the other stretched out in front of her on the floor with two large pillows and a cushion from the end of the couch serving as a prop.

"Yeah, thanks. I'll wash up the dishes then help you into bed. You've gotta be dead tired. Too bad there weren't any Advil in the first aid kit, huh?"

Collecting their dinnerware he jumped up, the dress pants and cotton t-shirt he'd thrown on a bit wrinkled from their jaunt in the tumbled bag as well as his sit on the floor.

"Here, lemme help." Standing determinedly, she was surprised when there wasn't an overwhelming bolt of fire shooting from her thigh. "It doesn't hurt too bad, more like an ache, really."

"Syd, c'mon. You sit, I'll do the dishes."

"Don't go all macho guy on me, Vaughn. Aren't the dishes the woman's job?"

"I'm not going all macho guy on you, believe me. You're not going to do anything I say anyway, are you?"

"Probably not," she grinned, leaning heavily on the counter as he shook his head, rinsing out the soupy remains as she grabbed an old towel to dry them.

Their hands would brush, accidentally at first, until it became frequent with each item they passed. Too soon, they ran out of things to wash as she took her weight off of her injured leg, pulling herself onto the counter with a small grunt.

"Now you can get on your toes and put them away," she smiled, seeing him grab the silverware, tossing them into the drawer to her left. The cups went directly above her, and she ducked down as he reached over her head to slide them back, pulling down and finding himself between her open legs, her hand mysteriously appearing on his chest as green eyes met brown.

He blushed…

She blushed…

They looked away and Vaughn instantly announced at it was time for bed. Helping her down from the counter top with stiff hands and an awkward silence, they both trekked to the bedroom.

"You take the bed, and I'll just grab some stuff and sleep on the couch."

"Okay," she conceded, not entirely in the right mind to argue.

What would she say? The 'we're both adults' conversation was out, because she didn't entirely know how long she'd be able to stay on her own side of the bed.

No, this was the right decision. Have him sleep in another part of the house, that way she wouldn't even get the chance at submitting to temptation, because let's face it,it was way too tempting.

He was way too tempting.

He grabbed his bag, pulling out a toothbrush and a half-used tube of toothpaste.

"I have an extra toothbrush, if you want to use it," he suggested, digging in the bottom and locating the mini carry-on item, handing it out to her.

"Thanks. Yeah, mine was in my bag."

They moved to the bathroom together, Vaughn's hand hovering at the small of her back as she hobbled through the doorway and flipped on the light. The cramped conditions made it awkward, but they both managed to finish their teeth. She wet a washcloth with warm water, standing in front of the mirror to remove the makeup and general gunk from her face, Vaughn maneuvering behind her to reach for one of his own.

His stomach bumped into her backside, causing a rush of pain to shoot through her as the wound pressed up against the edge of the sink. She gasped, fingers clutching the porcelain as his hands grabbed her waist and pulled her against him as her legs went limp.

"I'm sorry, Syd, I thought I'd have enough room. You okay?" He circled his hand around, pressing against her stomach as the other ran soothing strokes up and down her side.

"Yeah…you just – just caught me off guard there. The cut kinda bumped up against the sink," though, with her explanation, she didn't exactly move out of his arms.

"I'm sorry," he muttered, pressing a kiss to her temple.

"Are we just gonna dance around this for the next two days?" her voice was exasperated, and she met his eyes in the mirror.

He truly was confused. "Dance around what?"

"This strange…thing we've got goin' on."

"You've lost me," he grunted, unable to stop himself from leaning down and setting a kiss to her cheek.

"This intimacy issue…" she wanted to badly to close her eyes, yet she wasn't willing to stop watching the beautiful reflection of Vaughn holding her.

"What issue?" he asked innocently, his lips moving down to her jaw.

"Dammit, Vaughn," she grumbled, her head flopping back to lie against his shoulder.

Michael kept quiet, merely trailing his lips down the column of her throat and tasting the faint flavor of the perfume she'd dabbed on that morning.

"What intimacy issue?"

"The one we're not supposed to talk about!" she turned, glaring at him and fighting the rising urge to let him just ravage her senseless for two days – SD-6 and the CIA be damned.

"Then let's not talk about it." He growled, slamming his lips over hers in a breathless kiss. His tongue immediately demanded entry, tracing her pouted lips as she gasped in surprise.

He slid into her mouth quickly, the taste of her chap stick making him groan, her hands wrapping around his shoulders as she quickly got into the game. Her mouth dueled his, a loud smack reverberating off of the bathroom walls as they pulled apart.

Their foreheads were smashed together and their breath intermingled as he opened his eyes, looking down at his agent.

He was her handler.

"Jack's gonna kill me," he whispered, his nose brushing against hers.

"Then we don't tell him."

"Please. Your dad could stare down a charging rhino and it would back off. He's gonna know. It'd be better if we just don't…don't do anything."

"After that kiss I get nothing?" she asked, pulling back to crane her head up to look at him. "Because that's not fair."

"Sydney, life isn't fair. I'm sorry, but we're risking it as it is. I'm not gonna be able to sit across from you without remembering what it was like to kiss you," his voice was hoarse, and she could see the conflicting emotions in his eyes. His thumb traced her lower lip as his hand cupped her cheek.

"Michael…please?" she begged, seeing his eyebrows rise at the use of his first name. "Just kiss me – one more time."

With her eyes watery and Bambi-like, he couldn't resist. Heaving a sigh, he lowered his head until his lips brushed against her soft full mouth, his hands lightly holding her in place with one against her back while the other cupped her face.

His tongue begged entrance, gentle and waiting for permission. She granted it promptly, meeting it with her own as she traced her hands over the contours of his chest before slipping up around his neck, pulling him closer.

Vaughn groaned from deep in his throat as the two began to lose track of time. Their mouths became more ardent, searching and plundering each other's depths. It quickly became harder and harder to stop, and he found that he was grinding his rapidly growing erection against her taut stomach.

He yanked his head away from hers, a string of saliva stretching and breaking between their lips as he panted. Closing his eyes as tight as he could, he wasn't able to quash the lust that was rapidly getting out of control.

"If we don't stop now…I don't think I'll be able to." With a hoarse voice, deep and gravelly, she leaned into him as her lips fastened to his racing pulse point.

"Why should we stop?"

"Because it's…not a good idea?" He hadn't meant for his voice to rise at the end, turning his defensive statement into more of a question, but her hot mouth against his skin was becoming his undoing.

A gust of breath fanned his burning throat as she laughed, trailing down to where the collar of his shirt was hanging slightly open. "Was that a question? Because you know my answer – and I believe I know yours." Biting into his neck, she pushed her hips into his crotch, a thrill of electricity zooming through her veins at the groan from deep in his chest.

Unfortunately, two years of desire and passion concerning the woman in front him was making it hard – no pun intended – for him to concentrate. He needed to separate himself – and fast.

"Sydney…this is a very bad idea. If we do this…what's gonna happen after?" He meant it to be a serious question, but the purple hue to her irises made him doubt his own words.

"Well…depending how easily you can recoup, I was thinking that we'd go for a second round."

"Jack Bristow be damned. If your dad's gonna kill me, I might as well give him one hell of a good reason."

Yanking his head back down, she thrust her tongue into his mouth as he fervently responded.

He pulled away to lean down to lift her into his arms, mindful of her injured leg, and carried her into the bedroom. Once he'd dropped her on the bed, he climbed in behind her.

"Now…we have to be careful of your leg. Meaning…I can't be on top. You probably shouldn't bend it repeatedly or the stitches will pop so that means you can't be on top either." He paused long enough to press a wet kiss to her shoulder where it was sticking out from his blue shirt.

"So how do we solve this problem?" she asked quietly, reach back and running her hand up and down his thigh. Vaughn involuntarily thrust his hips against her, her injured leg moving up to rest on top of his, giving him an idea.

"Okay, I've got an idea." He grinned as he pulled away from her long enough to remove his shirt. Jumping off the bed, he hurriedly stepped out of his pants, stumbling momentarily when his foot got stuck in the leg. Sydney laughed at his rushed behavior, her own trembling fingers moving from button to button until the shirt she was wearing was free to be opened, though she kept herself covered.

He stopped once his trousers and socks were on, leaving his tented boxers over his hips as he turned to look at her from the end of the bed.

'My GOD is he HOT!' her mind screamed as she took in the sight of his built chest, muscled arms, and strong hockey-toned legs.

The green and blue plaid boxers made her smile. Though she had secretly been hoping for something like what Will wore – Scooby Doo, Spongebob, etc – she wasn't at all surprised that he was wearing a conservative set of boxers, despite the fact that she'd pegged him as a boxer-briefs type of guy.

'Guess I was wrong,' she thought – thought that wasn't entirely a bad thing.

"You just gonna stand there all night? Because that's not really how I'm used to doing this…" Flashing him her dimples, him returning the gesture, he climbed up from the foot of the bed until he was straddling her legs.

"Let's get these pants off," was all he said until his fingers looped the waist, unrolling it and stretching it over the gauzed wound on her upper thigh. She lifted her hips minutely, letting him slip them to her knees; the movement made the unbuttoned shirt open over her taut stomach, his eyes jumping to her belly button.

The only thing hidden from his gaze was her chest, and he quickly removed the sweatpants before tossing them to the floor. Running his hands up her creamy calves then over her runner's thighs, he reached her hips and played with the hem of her panties.

Leaning down, he pressed a small kiss above her wound as her hands reached down into his hair. He moved north, slipping his tongue into her belly button as she groaned above him. He rained kisses to her stomach and ribs, moving higher and higher until his mouth was nestled between her covered breasts.

He uncovered the right side with his nose, moving his lips up to the nipple before sucking it into his mouth. She arched off the bed, pain from her thigh ignored as he did the same to the left breast. Michael helped her shrug out of the shirt before rolling her onto her uninjured side and slipping behind her. He managed to pull his boxers off with one hand, his cock snapping out against the small of her back.

Sydney couldn't stop a shudder as it raced down her spine. Stretching out her arm and sliding it under her head, she used his shoulder as a pillow. His mouth suctioned to her neck as he slid a finger into her moist opening from behind to test her readiness.

"Vaughn…I've been ready for months," she growled, reaching behind them to cup the back of his neck.

He lifted her injured leg gently, positioning her thigh over his legs as the tip of his erection aligned itself with her core. She pushed back as he thrust forward, gasping and letting his head fall against her neck as a rush of air was squeezed from his lungs.

They stayed still for a few moments, savoring the feeling of their first – and hopefully not last – time together.

He composed himself, pulling back with his hips very slowly. Sydney groaned from her chest as her head fell back to land with a soft thud on his shoulder, his cheek pressed against hers. Her hand cupped his face, Michael pressing a kiss to the pad of her thumb as it brushed his lips before sucking the digit into his mouth and curling his tongue around it.

Pulling back until the head of his cock popped out of her opening, he reached down and gripped himself by the base to point the swollen head directly at her nubbin, slapping it against her clit twice before positioning it back to her opening - he thrust in completely until his crown bumped up and off of her closed cervix.

No one had really done that before, and she groaned for a moment at the discomfort of having him so deeply embedded. The thought quickly changed as he pulled out, the arm underneath her head moving lengthwise across her body as his ring finger descended over her clit.

"God, Vaughn," she moaned and bucked up against his hand before pushing back against his pushing erection. She quickly became accustomed to the bulbous head of his arousal slamming repeatedly past her g-spot and against her inner opening. Though it refused to budge – as it should – it began a burning in her abdomen. That, plus his finger constantly worrying her swollen bundle of nerves, her orgasm began to build quickly.

For Michael, he was on cloud nine. Every push and pull within Sydney's warm channel felt like sliding into a velvet-lined vice. It was obvious that she hadn't had sex for quite some time, a brief image of her with Noah assailed his thoughts and made him falter in his thrusts, but it didn't stay long. Her not having sex wasn't a bad thing in his mind, and he began to take note of every little mewl that erupted from Sydney's pouted lips.

Removing his hand from her center, she let out a small defeated groan as he set his hand against her cheek to tilt her face up toward his. Slamming his lips over hers, he sucked the air straight from her lungs as she closed her brown eyes – purple lining the irises as she let her passion completely overtake her body.

They pulled apart for a breath before rejoining as his hand moved down from her cheek to her bouncing breasts, tweaking her nipple between his fingers as her entire breast filled his large, splayed hand.

He groaned as her fingernails began to dig into his upper arm, her walls tightening around his active cock. It began to swell with his impending release, though he really wasn't ready for their night to end. He contemplated withdrawing and letting them both settle down before continuing, but figured that with the grip she had on his straining member as well as his arm, she would probably kick him in the balls, then finish without him.

'This is not something we want to happen. So thrust away and lose us completely inside her warm, hot little body, and then see if she's interested in a round two. Then you can go slowly, you friggin romantic,' the voice inside his head chastised him as he swallowed yet another moan from her.

They pulled away with a pop, she resting her forehead against his cheek as he turned to set his chin atop her shoulder. He stopped thrusting for a moment, set on re positioning his hips to gain more purchase.

"Michael Christopher Vaughn, I swear to God, you'd better continue right now or I'll kick your ass, leave you with blue balls, and finish the job myself," she growled, her body practically humming as she shoved her backside into his engorged flesh.

He hissed at the sudden contact, laughing in his head. 'See? You had to stop, didn't you?'

"Don't worry, baby, I'm just wiggling around. Gimme a sec-"

She yelped in pain, pulling away from him farther as his hand slipped up and his thumb poked directly into the stitched wound. He felt a wetness to his palm, his eyes flashing up to see a trail of blood leaking down from where his hand had been holding her leg up – supposedly out of the way.

"Damnit…" he growled, Sydney opening her eyes as she resisted the urge to let her hand wander to her thumbed but still throbbing snatch.

"What?!" Her eyes rolled once she glimpsed the wound, and she flopped her head back to his shoulder, knowing perfectly well that the Boy Scout in him would want to fix it immediately rather than be consumed in their passion and worry about it later. "Later, Vaughn, please!" she begged, already feeling him lower her leg gently and begin to get off of the bed.

He ignored her as she rolled onto her back, no longer having his warm body behind to hold her on her side. "Please? C'mon, we'll worry about it after…"

"Sorry, we're gonna take care of it right now. Then I'll ravish you – promise." He tossed her a playful wink, yanking up his boxers and trying to pull them over his extremely hard cock. It curled up from the patch of hair, sticking straight up and bumping into his belly button as he walked.

It seemed to ignore the piece of clothing, locating the hole in the front of the underwear and popping out.

"Fine. Stick out if you want," he grumbled down to it; though the sight of his hardness only turned her on that much more, she acquiesced to the fact that he'd rather take care of her than finish their love-making.

She watched with aggravated eyes as he left the room, his penis jutting out from the blue plaid and pointing in the direction he was walking. She laughed, despite herself, and looked down at the popped stitch at the top of the wound.

"Bastard," she growled, glaring at it as she once again refused her finger's journey to her heated opening.

Glancing over to where his watch sat on the nightstand, she tilted her head until she was able to read the hands correctly. "1:47 a.m." She dropped her head back down into the pillow and covered her face with both hands as he re-entered the room with the first aid kit.

He stopped at the sight of her naked on the bed with a fine sheet of sweat beginning to cool on her beautiful skin. "Sydney…do you know how beautiful you are?" he asked rhetorically, not really expecting an answer.

"Shut up, Vaughn," she grumbled, her voice muffled behind her hands as he laughed, stripping out of his boxers and climbing back up onto the bed.

He straddled her legs, his somewhat deflated cock wilting down and touching the crown to the bedspread. He dove in to press a kiss to her stomach, tongue delving into her button before pulling away and re-stringing his needle with a scant bit of thread.

She pulled her hands away from her face, waiting for the pain of the needle to begin, but instead he changed his angle, moving to sit next to her rather than over her legs.

"Promise you won't kick?" he asked, making sure she wouldn't thrash her legs about.

She nodded mutely, confusion clouding her brown eyes – the purple beginning to ebb as she settled her mind to compartmentalize the pain. He aligned the needle, moving closer to her body.

What she wasn't expecting was his mouth to fasten over her swollen and aching pussy, his tongue swirling around her clit as she groaned. Her fingers grabbed a fistful of his hair as he poked the needle through her skin, keeping her attention away from the pain and on her pleasure.

He had no idea how he was able to finish stitching her up when his lips, teeth, and tongue were busy on her sweet opening. He certainly had done his job well though – keeping her entertained as he tied the knot and removed his teeth from her channel to bite off the string. The metallic taste of blood mixed with the salty-sweet flavor of her juices, and he felt his cock bounce in anticipation of being inside her once more.

He grabbed the roll of gauze, tilting her leg up and beginning to wrap it securely. He didn't remember when the other wrap had fallen off, but that didn't matter. He didn't skimp on the material this time, using it all to create a safe and tight padded cocoon around her upper thigh. Leaning in a pressing a sucking kiss to her clit once more, he stood and grabbed the kit from the bed before tossing it into a nearby chair.

Almost jumping onto the bed, he was rewarded with her lazy smile and gorgeous dimples as she reached out to him. He climbed directly atop her sizzling body, the tip of his newly engorged flesh pressing to her opening as he slid himself back home.

She groaned, pulling him against her and fastening her mouth over his. They stayed connected below, the only movement from their lips and tongues as they dueled, then slowed, and then dueled once more.

She was addicted to his kisses, chalking it up to the fact that he was French – though she doubted that it had anything to do with his ability to leave her soaking wet with merely a brush of his tongue inside her mouth.

His first thrust wasn't gentle; he slammed his hips down against hers as his cock pushed against her walls and throbbed, twitching in time with his heartbeat. The familiar heat began to sweep through her body.

His balls began to tighten, moving up toward his body readying for his impending climax. He groaned as her hips rose up off the bed to meet his eager plunges, the base of his cock rubbing insistently against her clit as the head of his cock slammed past her g-spot.

"Oh, God…Michael," she moaned, her fingernails digging into his shoulder, clutching him close as she smashed her face into his neck.

He knew she was close; the mewling from her throat frequenting each and every push told him so. She latched onto his neck, biting and sucking hard at the pulse point she found, soothing over her bite with her tongue. His voice rumbled through his chest, reverberating before leaving his lips in a guttural groan as his hot seed splashed against her tensing walls, the muscles milking him dry with her own climax.

He continued soft thrusts until they were both spent , and though his cock was beginning to soften she kept him wedged deep inside her, refusing to let him go.

"How are we gonna be able to go back and pretend none of this happened?"

Her voice was hoarse and her breath was a cool whoosh against his heated throat.

"You know what?" he asked, pulling back and wiping at the beaded sweat on her upper lip with his thumb.

She didn't answer, merely turning all of her attention to him with her eyes.

"It's officially 2002. Happy New Year, Sydney," he leaned in, brushing a sweet kiss to her mouth. "you didn't forget, did you?"

"Yeah…I…I guess I did." She gave a small chuckle, Vaughn rolling to her uninjured side and cradling her body against his.

"You called me Michael."

"I did?" she asked with a smiling squeak.

"Yep. I liked it. Throes of passion and all; it was hot."

Sydney shook her head before pillowing it on his shoulder and tucking her nose against his throat.

"New beginning…huh?"

He chuckled, slipping her body farther into his arms and brushing a kiss to her temple as she sighed, completely relaxing in his embrace. He listened to her sleep, mumbling against his shoulder incoherently in her slumber. He smiled, one thought going through his mind before he drifted off:

'Don't frost the pie.'

...