ever Saw it Coming
Never Saw it Coming
by Celli Lane

Feedback: Please? Thank you. :) celli@fanfic101.com
Category: Slash.
Rating: NC-17. 
Pairings: Sark/Vaughn
Spoilers: Through 3.15, "Facade."
Summary: What should have happened at the end of "Facade."
Archiving: CM, Alias Slash, Omega-17. Otherwise, please ask.
Disclaimer: Alias belongs to JJ Abrams, ABC, and various other people with lawyers. 


Vaughn was looking down at the handcuffs and never saw the knife in Sark's hand. He felt it, though, each serrated bump against his neck.

Sark reached out and flicked the earpiece out of Vaughn's ear. "Drop the cuffs," he said.

Vaughn complied. He made an effort to meet Sark's eyes levelly.

"Tell me why I shouldn't kill you now."

"Because without me you're not leaving this plane alive, and you know it."

Sark made a dismissive sound. "You underestimate me, Vaughn. As usual."

Vaughn braced for the slide of the blade. He was taken completely by surprise when Sark leaned forward and kissed him. He jerked back automatically, but Sark's free hand was on the back of his head, fingers digging in to hold him in place.

He wasn't going to kiss him back. He wasn't. This was Sark, for God's sake, and he was--he wasn't--

His mouth was open and his tongue was in the mouth of an internationally wanted assassin. He was going to hate himself a lot for this later. But right now he was busy.

Sark sank his teeth into Vaughn's bottom lip; Vaughn groaned and leaned into him automatically, barely noticing the scrape of the knife against his neck. Then it was gone. Sark grabbed his arms and wrestled them down into a pile of luggage. Vaughn slammed his knee into a suitcase and swore, but that didn't stop him from groping for Sark's belt. He worked his way past the pants and the silk boxers (of course, some small part of his brain remarked) and was rewarded with a broken obscenity from the man beneath him. He caught himself grinning. He kept his mouth on Sark's, counting every hiss and half-pronounced word as a personal victory.

Sark fought back, jerking Vaughn's trousers open and fondling him, and Vaughn's vision darkened around the edges when Sark's hand slipped around to trace a pattern down to his balls. Lauren does that, he thought dumbly, and jerked himself back from reasonable thought to redouble his own efforts.

It was over quickly, and they lay slumped in a panting, sticky pile, staring at each other. "Well," Sark said finally. "That was...educational."

The last thing Vaughn saw was the hilt of the knife coming at the side of his head.

--the end--


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