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If there were ever one thing that she enjoyed most, it was making Michael scream...

He was always so checked, so reserved, and pulled together that in the rare moment of being unhinged, she relished it. She almost aimed to unleash him at every opportunity given to corner him. She knew he liked toying with her, pretending to not want to be captured when, in fact, he pleaded for it. She could see it in his eyes the strong desire within him building to peaks he would not admit to, yet his yearning for her was undeniable. When she could finally release him and open the locks that he set in place to control himself, he was as wild and dangerous as the Chilean rapids. She would push him to such brimming lustfulness that his eventual eruption was as violent as a volcano and almost always overtook her with equal force.

He wasn't always so.

There was a time when he was careful and cautious, unwilling to allow himself to be seen completely. He always held a part of himself back as if afraid to enjoy himself too much. He seemed to want to let go but didn't. Instead, he lingered at the rim, teasing himself torturously and denying himself true pleasure. She tried to encourage him to free himself, to let himself venture out into the abyss, but always he would step backward, shying away from what he knew would be complete abandon.

She never shied from it.

Sex for Nikita had always been all-encompassing, all-inclusive, and enveloping. She enjoyed it thoroughly, giving all of herself to it. There was no other way that she knew how. It was completely beyond her how Michael could shut off parts of himself and only perform to the measure of what was necessary but not to what could be enjoyed. She could never successfully separate herself from her body, nor could she sever her feelings from the physical act no matter how hard she attempted the feat. It was always a skill she could not master and she hated herself for it. Each time she was asked to perform in a Valentine Mission, she dreaded what was expected of her. She often found ways to avoid the inevitable, but always, at some point during the assignment, she knew she would be demanded to submit.

That was the problem...The idea of submission.

There was only one person that she would willfully submit to. One person that she would ever relinquish control over her body and allow him free reign to please himself however he wished. She could admit that she was a slave to him now, willing to do whatever he wanted, wherever he wanted, whenever he desired it. She would come to him as sure as a moth to a flame. She would dance about him for as long as he remained alight for her. When his light diminished and then finally snuffed out, she would go away to await his call again. How she hated how she could be won so quickly each time. She could pretend to not be affected by the way he looked at her, or notice his subtle scent each time he passed by. She tried to hide the shift of her eyes towards him when she sensed his presence and often made it purposeful to not walk by his office to stare into his window.

He did the same.

He pretended not to notice her whenever she walked past, or care that she changed her hairstyle. He made believe that her voice did not stir him deep within and that her scent did not cause arousal. At briefings, she could see by the slight shift of his eyes that his thoughts were not always on the mission, but trailing back to a night spent intertwined in each other's arms. She knew it was where he liked to go in his mind during long transits to their mission destination. He would sit and stare into nothingness, or close his eyes and fake sleep when all the while his mind replayed their most sensuous of moments causing him to lick his lips.

He was just as addicted to her as she was to him. The only difference was that he knew how to hide his addiction well, whereas she could not always mask her feening. She fidgeted and scratched, shook, and sweated. Her breath became short and her patience even more scarce the longer she remained without him. Each time he had to tell her no, to wait, her symptoms became even more pronounced until she was driven to near madness. She would take even just a taste of him if that was all that she could gain, but even with that, she knew would be unsatisfying. With a taste, she would want more, would need more. No other drug on the planet would be able to cool the scorching fire that lived only for his touch. No other kiss could quench the flames that licked her passions and settle them back down into heated coals. It was the same for him, despite the emptiness of his vacant gaze. The very fact that he was so blank made the sudden spark of true yearning all the more evident, and for her...pleasurable. Only she could make him chase her so doggedly, prowling after her like a hunting panther, studying her every move to decide when best to strike. And when he did…

When he struck

The power in his bite and the venom in his release paralyzed her and caused her heart to nearly stop. He always ingested her slowly, pulling her so far deep within himself that she ceased to be herself any longer. She melted into him, becoming every cell within his body and living in him insomuch that they breathed together as one being. It was only recently that he began to scream as he felt both the pain and pleasure of their bodies uniting. He had slowly begun to become more vocal in their unions, expressing himself freely the more times they came together. It was not only his voice that rang out but his body as well. He was no longer separated from himself but wholly connected and fully engaged.

He made love with his fingertips, his toes, and his eyelashes. His teeth and his tongue and the tip of his chin. Sex was in his nipples and the curve of his thighs. In the dimples in his buttocks and the ripples of his muscles in his stomach. Even his hair became sex as it both gave and took from her pleasure and seduced with its softness and light scent. She loved to lose her fingers within it and grip it as her body took from him. Like two vampires, they drained one another, feasting gluttonously on each other's flesh until they were left bloated and dazed. She was certainly his drug, one that he abused more often than he would ever state. He could say that he did not come to her as often as one would think that he did. In truth, if one were only counting the times he actually did come to her door, he would be correct in saying he did not come often. However, what was not told was the overindulgence of his visits when he did come. It was not so much the quantity in which he partook of his pleasures as it was the sheer level of absurdity he savored her.

At times he was romantic, taking time to appreciate every hair he encountered on her form. Other times he was bestial in his pursuits, devouring her over and over until she was left ragged and breathless on the floor. And then there were other times when they were both so wanton for each other that it was indiscernible which one wanted the other more. Perhaps it was a better idea to separate them because together, they no longer operated as individual minds. They could not be manipulated into thinking a certain thing, nor could they be persuaded against one another. They were balanced and sure against anything that dared fix itself as their obstacle. Though they were not telepathic, they needed no language to speak. They could hear each other through their energy and know each other's every thought through the look in their eyes.

They were one.

He was quiet now, lying beside her in dreamless slumber. His face, once twisted in tortured ecstasy, was now peaceful and serene. His dark brown lashes lay tranquil against his flushed cheeks. His mahogany curls lay slightly damp against his neck. His chest rose and fell evenly, re-energizing from the laborious strain of their lovemaking. He was beautiful to her just as he always complimented her. He was both strong and delicate; brave and cunning; smart and yet always seeking to learn more. Tomorrow, they would go on a mission together to Genefex to infiltrate the lab. After all that was occurring as Section, it felt a little odd to be sent on such a mission. However, she was not going to question it. One thing she learned above all things at Section was to not question...just do.

So she and Michael would simply do the mission, complete their assignment, and return to themselves once more. Madeline and Operations could continue to squabble about what George wanted and how they desired to undermine him. They were no longer a concern. As long as she had Michael, and Michael had her, they could face whatever was thrown at them…