Hey everyone! This second chapter has been a long time coming. Sorry. I hope you enjoy what I've come up with and forgive me my absence from the the CA world as of late.

Thank you to everyone who left a review for the first part. It really encouraged me to keep this second part on my to-do list. If I didn't respond to you last time, apologies. This time, everyone gets an answer. :)

Also need to thank Phoenix, who keeps putting up with me an all my rough drafts.

Disclaimer: I don't own Covert Affairs or its characters.

Lessons: Part Two

"You could lighten up on the aftershave, you know."

"What?"

"It's just a little strong."

"Focus on the job, Auggie."

The techie grins at Jai's irritated tone. Taking jabs at his coworker helps Auggie take the edge off his unease about sending Annie into the arms of Seymour Berkin, their mark who enjoys some kink when it comes to his prostitutes.

"I'm approaching the room." Annie's voice comes into their headsets, a little muffled by the coat covering up her leather bustier.

"Go get 'em, tiger," Auggie says.

Jai snickers beside him, but Auggie ignores the sound. He could give a rat's ass what Jai thinks about his methods of encouragement. He's trying to coach Annie through her nerves. Even though she convinced him of her abilities in the DPD supply closet—thoroughly convinced him—Auggie knows that the situation is different now. It isn't him in that hotel room. It's a chubby Russian diplomat with a comb-over and rotten teeth—or so Annie had described him as she suited up while reading through Berkin's file.

"When you get inside, locate Berkin's laptop," Auggie instructs. If he stays calm, there's a good chance Annie will too. "The faster you get your phone near the computer, the faster this will all be over."

"Right. Going in."

She knocks lightly and a few seconds later the door swings open. There's a soft rustle of fabric, and then the door clicks shut in beat with Annie's stiletto boots.

The atmosphere inside the van suddenly becomes much more serious. The time for jokes and banter is over and it's all about business. Auggie's fingers are poised over his keyboard, ready to hack.

"Change before you come into the bedroom," Berkin's voice rumbles in the background, the sound largely absorbed by Annie's woolen trench-coat. "I'll be waiting."

The wool scratches against the sensitive microphone as she removes the exterior layer. Auggie pictures her standing in the room in the leather bustier with black panties, sheer thigh-high hose with red garters, and black knee-high stiletto boots. The image distracts him until Annie's voice comes over the microphone again.

"The phone is in position. Make it quick," she whispers, then adds in a sultry voice, "Are you ready to play, pet?"

She must have gotten lucky—finding Berkin's laptop so quickly—but Auggie's not about to complain. It takes a moment for the signal to come up on his computer, but as soon as it does, Auggie begins to type codes and algorithms. He runs in to multiple firewalls and realizes this is going to take longer than he thought.

"Take it slow, Annie. I need a little time." He doesn't want her to panic.

"I've been a very bad boy," Berkin tells her.

Auggie's fingers fly over the keys.

"Then I'm going to have to punish you," Annie responds, still going strong. "On. The. Floor."

Annie's heels move toward her mark in three steady strides to punctuate her instructions. Berkin's heavy breathing comes through the microphone more clearly. He's practically panting. For once, Auggie thinks he may have done his job too well in putting together Annie's outfit.

"Tell me how naughty you've been. Tell me how much you need punished."

"I've been so bad. So, so very naughty."

"God, this sounds like a bad porno," Jai says.

"Wouldn't know. . ." Auggie responds, distracted by his work. "Don't really need them."

They hear the riding crop crack against Berkin's skin a few times and sit there listening to Berkin's whimpers of pleasure from experiencing pain while Auggie types as quickly as he can.

He feels sick to his stomach. There are so many firewalls. But there can't be that many. No one is this paranoid. He's seen professional hackers with less electronic security.

"How much longer?" Jai asks, a nervous impatience in his tone. Annie and Berkin's initial conversation has dissolved into an incomprehensible guttural exchange, punctuated every few seconds by the sound of the leather on flesh.

"I'm almost there." He can feel it. They almost have the information. "Hold on, Annie."

"Enough!" Berkin suddenly exclaims. He must reach out for Annie, because another loud smack sounds in their headsets.

"Not until I give the word!" she reprimands. The uncertainty in her voice rings in Auggie's ears. The situation is getting out of her control and she's starting to lose her grip on the character. "I am in charge."

"I like it when they fight back too," Berkin sneers. His laborious breathing increases as he lumbers to a standing position. "You are so beautiful. A few bruises will make you perfect."

Auggie's fingers slam against the keys in time to the heartbeats pounding against his ribcage.

"You play by my rules, worm, or we don't play at all. That was the deal."

"I'm paying you. I'll do what I please. I say we switch roles now."

"Take him out, Annie," Jai orders, echoing Auggie's thoughts. Joan's instructions were to avoid exposing themselves as an intelligence hit, but there's little choice left now.

They hear a loud thunk—probably Annie roundhousing Berkin and leaving him in an unconscious heap. Auggie smiles slightly at the sound; he taught her that move too.

"Got it!" He breaks through the ninth and final firewall and begins downloading the information. He flexes his cramped fingers and says, "We're in, Annie."

"About time," she responds. "What am I doing with this creep? Bringing him in?"

A box pops up on Auggie's monitor. He quickly reads the message on his lighted Braille strip. "Oh no."

"What?" Jai questions.

Auggie doesn't respond to him. Instead, he speaks directly into his headset. "Annie, we have a slight problem. Berkin had an invisible security sensor. I triggered some sort of alarm."

Right on cue, Jai chimes in. "We've got two armed beefheads in the east stairwell. ETA: thirty seconds."

"Get out of there," Auggie translates.

She doesn't wait for any other orders. Annie's boots smack against the hardwood floors of the snazzy hotel. "Where's my exit?"

"Take a left at the next hallway. There are service stairs three doors down," Jai states.

It may not happen often, but Auggie is glad for his coworker's presence. Jai's eyes will lead Annie out of danger more quickly than his fingers could.

A thunderous burst of gunfire reminds him that Annie isn't out of danger yet though. They hear her racing down the stairs; the sound of her boots mingles with her pursuers' footfalls, reverberating off of the cement walls.

"I'm almost at the exit. Start the van!" she yells into their ears.

Jai hops into the driver's seat as Auggie palms for the backdoor handle of the surveillance van. He pops it open just as Annie dives forward. She plows right into him, knocking them both back and into the van cavity.

Auggie's wind might be gone, but Annie has enough lung power to shout, "Go!"

Another round of bullets accompanies her command, ricocheting off the still open backdoor of the van. Auggie grips the back of her leather bustier and flips Annie's body underneath his—using his own as a shield—just before another half dozen shots embed themselves in the swinging metal door.

Jai floors it. When he takes the first sharp right at the end of the street, the van door finally closes.

But the fun has only started.

"We've got a tail," Jai calls from the front. "Hold on!" He cranks the gas pedal a little more and speeds onto the D.C. streets leading to the highway.

Despite his desire to follow Jai's suggestion, there is nothing to hold onto in the back of the van. There is only the cold, slick metal floor and the hot, perspiring body beneath him.

Auggie is suddenly very aware of Annie's state of undress, the way she inhales and expels air through her mouth because the corset doesn't let her catch her breath after her quick getaway.

He can feel her skin radiating heat beneath him, can practically time the beating of her pulse. Her warm breath rasps near his ear as he hovers over her body, trying not to crush her and make it even harder for her to breathe.

With monitoring equipment on the left and a built-in bench on the right, there is only enough room in the bed of the van for one person. Auggie's shoulders collide painfully with the sides of the steel bench as Jai maneuvers through the D.C. streets.

Annie's hair is spread out all around her—it brushes against both of his hands, which are caged on either side of her head, his elbows resting right above her shoulders.

In his fantasies—in one of his many fantasies, rather—this is how he pictures them together. The primal urge to bury his hands in her hair, to bury his tongue in her mouth, to bury himself inside her, is almost too much.

Jai hits a pothole and their bodies jump with the jolt. Annie is pressed flush against him and he hears her gasp of surprise as she feels his body's reaction pressing hard against her stomach.

Some things just can't be helped.

He is only human—a hot-blooded, living, breathing male one at that. Not to mention, he's a man who fully appreciates the curves of the female form, especially the form beneath him. Even though he knows her measurements from being her handler, he's never had the pleasure of feeling those curves full-on before now. He's only gotten hints—a hug, a hand brushing against the side of her breast as he takes her proffered arm, a nudge of her hip.

Having Annie pinned underneath him, scantily clad, their bodies rubbing against each other in a high speed chase. . .well, even if he was thinking clearly enough to control his body's reaction, it wouldn't do any good. He's penned up his attraction to her for too long.

"Annie. . ." he starts, thinking of an explanation he doesn't possess.

"Kiss me," she half pants, half whispers, still unable to catch her breath. Her hands snake between their bodies and up around his neck. "Now."

Maybe the adrenaline is clouding her judgment too and making her blood rush.

He doesn't need any other encouragement. Auggie's head dips and Annie's lips crash against his, meeting him halfway. Her hands pull him in closer and she opens her mouth, letting his tongue fully explore her. The kiss is rough and banal. Fierce. Consuming.

Auggie's hands want to roam, to feel every inch of her that he can reach, but he's still bracing himself against the velocity of the car. Annie's hands are a different story. They slip beneath his T-shirt, running up his chest and around his back, fingernails digging into his flesh as she tries to hold him steady and bring him closer at the same time.

This is the Annie he discovered in the DPD supply closet, the passionate vixen that knows what she wants and takes it. He's more than willing to give it to her.

But as the van starts to slow down, the flame between them begins to cool. She pulls away from him—releasing his lips and his body. Now neither of them is breathing evenly.

"I think we've lost them," Jai says. Auggie wonders if he knows what's just happened in the back of the van, but he's glad that one of them was focused on getting the team out of this alive.

Somehow Annie and Auggie pull themselves upright and perch themselves on the metal bench, sitting shoulder to shoulder. His lips are swollen from her kisses.

The van eventually stops inside the DPD parking garage. Jai opens the backdoor and a blast of cold air hits them. Auggie feels Annie shiver beside him, removes his cardigan, and slips it over her shoulders as they exit the van.

"Thanks," she says, finally regaining her composure.

"Annie, what. . .?" He doesn't know what to say about their hot exchange. He doesn't know what this means for them.

Her lips press lightly against his cheek, which dispels some of his worry that the impromptu make-out session will cause problems with their relationship.

"Later," she whispers. "First we have to ditch the voyeur."

"Jai?" he asks, slightly confused. But who else could she mean?

"We lost that tail after the first three turns," she says, a smile in her voice. "Someone was enjoying himself. I'm not into public performances."

"I don't know what you're talking about." Jai's voice is unconvincing. He even sounds a little smug.

"Wil-cox!" Auggie exclaims.

The other man laughs and dodges Auggie's attempted sucker punch. "I wasn't about to interrupt again," he explains. "Though, in the future, could you try and restrain yourselves a little?"

"Jealous?" Annie teases. Auggie grasps her elbow as they begin walking toward the garage elevators.

"Hardly." Annie and Auggie share a laugh over that lie. "How about, as a token of apology, drinks are on me after debrief?" Jai offers.

Annie's hand pats the middle of Auggie's chest. "I think we've got other plans tonight. Raincheck?"

"Other plans?" Auggie asks, though he thinks he likes where this is going.

"We've still got that bag of extra 'tech' in the van," she hints in a voice that makes his chest tighten with anticipation.

"Yeah," he says to Jai, "we'll need a raincheck."

A/N: Reviews would be lovely. This weekend has been beyond crappy and a few words would cheer me up like no bar of chocolate ever could. :)