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Heading For Quiet

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As she walked down the hallway leading to her apartment, Nikita pulled the key out of her pocket and surreptitiously took note of her surroundings. Everything seemed to be in order, nothing suspicious lurking around. Her keys jingled a little against the lock, a stupid thing for an undercover agent to let happen, really. Jingling keys could be a dead giveaway if someone happened to be waiting inside.

A fact that Michael immediately reminded her of when he greeted her at the door. Like she needed his damn games now. She said as much.

"I heard about your mission," he said as he handed her a glass of wine.

She made no reply but took the wine and downed it quickly. Maybe if she got drunk she would be able to relax a little. You could drink yourself into oblivion, right? She'd watched her mother do it a thousand times.

"Oh, hell," she said, and slammed the wine glass into the sink, surprised it didn't shatter.

Michael was quiet but watching her closely, the expression on his face guarded.

"What do you want?" She just wasn't in the mood to deal with him right now.

Michael seemed almost hurt, and the fact that she could read that much on his composed face both thrilled and worried her.

"I can leave," he offered.

Did she want him to leave? Yeah, she did.

"No, don't," she heard herself say and she slumped onto her couch. "I just. I'm tired and I know I won't be able to sleep. I want to sleep. I want to hear silence and not little kids crying because we killed their mother." She halted, her aching throat stopping up any more words and she rubbed her temples. She would not cry. She just couldn't spend any more tears on things like this.

Michael moved her hands out of the way and took over, soothing the tense muscles in her head, threading through her hair. She closed her eyes, enjoying his touch, the way his lips felt on top of her head as his hands moved down to her shoulders. His lips followed, nipped at her ear, nuzzled the soft skin at the crease of her jaw. With a soft sigh, she tilted her head, eager to feel more.

Michael continued to kiss her neck, every small lick creating an ache deep in her belly. His hands smoothed over her collarbones and down to gently caress her breasts. She moved up against him, loving the feel of his hands teasing her nipples through her shirt and the rasp of beard stubble against the sensitive skin behind her ear.

Damn, that felt good, but it made her restless, too. Nikita disentangled herself from Michael's hands, sitting, then standing and turning to face him. For a moment she just looked at him, watching as he gracefully stood, trying to see deep within him. Was this a game? Some sort of Section thing?

Michael didn't make a move toward her, didn't offer any words to betray what he may be thinking. She wanted him, wanted to know him inside and out but, Nikita wasn't sure that would ever happen. Section was too twisted to allow it to happen and Michael had lived too many years under that regime to ever be emotionally open again.

But for now? She didn't give a damn if he was here because of some Section ploy. Slowly, she began to unbutton her shirt, moving from the top to the bottom. Done, and she let it hang loose as she threw a leg up on the couch, thanking the gods that her long skirt had a slit deep enough to let her do this. She unzipped one boot and pulled it off before she repeated the process. She stood for moment, enjoying the feel of the carpet beneath her stockings, liking the way Michael was looking at her.

She pushed her shirt back, let it drop down her arms, peeled it over her hands to fall on the floor. Her hands moved to her skirt, the rasp of the zipper loud to her ears and she winced when it stuck slightly, ruining what she hoped would be a sexy movement. Then Michael was there, finishing the job for her, pulling the skirt down her legs. She stepped out of it, wearing only her bra, panties and the garter belt holding her stockings.

Of course, this was the one day none of them actually matched. Well, it was Michael's own fault. If he would ever give her any warning instead of just showing up she might have been able to pull together all black or all red or all pink instead of all three.

Michael, however, did not seem to mind at all. He kissed her hard, teasing her lips, running his hands down her body, cupping his hand over her lacy underwear, fingers massaging her through the material.

It didn't take long at all for her to become wet and restless. Damn, she wanted to move!

She pulled away from him and moved up the few steps to her bedroom, glad she had taken time to make the bed with fresh sheets before leaving this morning. Then Michael was behind her, grinding against her, hands tweaking her nipples through her bra, sucking hard on her neck.

They were on the bed before she realized he had turned her around and she didn't let herself think about how easily Michael had stripped her bra off. She didn't think about much at all except his mouth on her nipples, his tongue licking and swirling around each peak, his hands seeming to be everywhere. It wasn't until he was rolling the second stocking off her foot that she realized he was still fully clothed.

And that sort of pissed her off.

She sat up, and tapped the top of his head.

"Off," she said, pointing to his black shirt. In a moment, he complied, tossing the shirt aside.

"Nu-huh," she said, and shook her head. "All of it."

Something like surprise passed over his face and Nikita was pleased she'd managed to get such a reaction out him. She was even more pleased when he shoved pants and boxers down in one motion.

She did not laugh when he realized he still had his shoes on. But when Michael turned his back to sit on the edge of the bed, then bent to unlace his shoes, she smiled. It was somehow reassuring that even the Great Exotic Michael could get into awkward situations.

The muscles of his back moved smoothly under his skin and when he sat up and Nikita couldn't resist running her hands down that length of back, kissing his neck and lower, between his shoulder blades. She ran her hands under his arms then down his stomach, searching for and finding his straining cock.

She wrapped her hands around him and stroked, fumbling somewhat because she couldn't see, afraid she would hurt him if she moved her hands wrong. His skin was like velvet over living steel and she found the head, feeling the slickness gathered there. She smeared it over the tip, then stroked down.

Michael was panting hard, his hands clenching the bedspread. She moved up, sucking the tense muscle where neck met shoulder. She liked the way her hand looked as it moved against his bare flesh.

But it was an odd position and her legs were beginning to cramp under her. She let go of Michael, and moved back, letting the circulation return to her feet. Michael waited only a moment, seeming to gather his control before he moved between her legs. He kissed her stomach and she raised her hips when he tugged her panties down.

She spread her legs, fully exposing herself to him, showing him with what she wanted. He kissed her there deeply, his tongue darting in and out, before moving up to more suck a more sensitive place. Nikita moaned at the intensity of his tongue, wanting more, more, more, even as his mouth left her, sliding wetly up her stomach to capture one breast. He sucked one nipple, biting it gently before he moved to the other, nipping and kissing and driving her wild.

With a growl, she turned the tables on him, flipping him over, kissing him deeply, reaching down and grasping him, then slowly, slowly lowering herself onto him. Michael's hands were on her breasts, her hips, her back, urging her on, but Nikita set the pace. She used her hands to follow his, then finally she was close and she reached down feeling where their bodies joined, finding her most sensitive spot and rubbing, stroking herself and Michael and then she came, shudders running through her body, quivering and gasping and finally, finally relaxing.

She pulled herself up and off of Michael, still hard and gleaming now with her wetness. She stroked him, watching his face, knowing he was close, feeling him become harder just before he came, pulsing over her hand, his eyes closed, head pressed back into the pillows.

Nikita loved the way he looked when he came, more vulnerable to her than he would allow himself to be when fully alert. She waited until he opened his eyes, full of sated passion, before she spooned herself against him. He wrapped one arm around her, resting a hand on her breast and she snuggled closer, feeling relaxed and happy and suddenly very thankful he was a man of few words.