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ALIAS: Divinity V: Stasmia (Sark/Sydney)

For eretria. Divinity, parts One, Two, Three, Four.

Title: Stasmia
Author: voleuse
Fandom: Alias
Ship: Sark/Sydney
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: Perhaps it's no more than the fire's reflection.
Notes: No spoilers

Sydney tastes like roses, he thinks, and salt.

In the idle moments when he considered matters such as this, he had never imagined this particular subtlety, but he finds that it suits her, and him.

He delves deeper, slower, and she groans. It's a low, singeing sound.

The afternoon wanes, light flickering golden through the dingy panes of the window. Her skin is patterned with fragile shadows, and he draws back to admire the lines, lets the last bit of sunlight paint her.

She moans, arches closer to him, but he insists, firming his hold on her hips, ducking his head between her thighs, indulging her briefly as the sun sets.

A street light fades on, replacing caramel afternoon with twilight shadow. Sydney twines a leg around his back, stroking his spine with her heel, and he slides his palms under her legs, marvels at the contrast between her skin and the threadbare fabric of the sofa.

She grumbles, but it barely registers in his ears before she's caught his shoulders in her hands. She draws him up from his prostration, draws him down as she eases onto the sofa.

Their legs tangle, and he braces his arm against the back and the edge of the sofa, studies her profile when she turns her face away.

Even at this point, as her fingers clutch at his hips, her hips rise to meet him, he cannot help but wonder.

"Sydney," he murmurs.

She jerks, turns to face him. He cannot name what lies behind her eyes, so he simply asks.


In answer, she shifts, angles her body, until he cannot deny her, or himself.

He sinks into her, slow as strangling, and presses his eyes shut.

They clutch each other, close to desperation, but not quite, and when he cannot hold back any longer, he does her the favor of not crying her name.


Summary taken from Fire's Reflection, by Rainer Maria Rilke.


( 3 comments — Leave a comment )
Jan. 19th, 2005 12:23 pm (UTC)
I read it this morning and couldn't quite find the connection - but back then, I didn't have the time to follow the links.
Now, with having remembered the series it belongs to, it fits perfectly and works beautifully.

It's lovely, this one. Usually, you only have her name said in scorn or mockery or lust. This honest curiosity is refreshing.

The beauty of this piece, though? The texture of it, the description of light and shadow, the warmth you can feel radiating off it.
Jan. 19th, 2005 12:24 pm (UTC)
Uh, the "you" above refers to general Sarkney writing, not your writing.
Jan. 19th, 2005 12:32 pm (UTC)
Hee. I had to read the previous chapters over a few times before I could write this one. The Sark of this series is decidedly different from the Sark I've written in other stories.

Thank you!
( 3 comments — Leave a comment )

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