| Subject: Relishing the Burn (1/6) (boy did I screw that intro up. here's the title and my e-mail addy) |
Author:
delle
|
[
Next Thread |
Previous Thread |
Next Message |
Previous Message
]
Date Posted: 12:52:31 08/03/01 Fri
In reply to:
delle
's message, "Embarressingly delayed, but it's done. Thanks to my kind and gentle betas for suggestions and hand-holding. I'm putting my disclaimers in the open, because - believe me - I mean every word of them." on 12:50:28 08/03/01 Fri
For Shanola: Because she told me to. And for Athena, who suggested the premise that became this escapade. Don’t blame her, the fault is all mine.
Relishing the Burn
Sex: The act of procreation
Fucking: Sex for pleasure's sake. No ties, no meaning, no strings.
Making love: An act of intimacy between lovers.
And here we are, betwixt and between.
Time to pay the piper.
Naked, she sat in the middle of the bed, in the perfect center of the white antiseptic room. Hands clenched, knees drawn up and pressed firmly together, her eyes were riveted on the wall-sized pane of mirrored glass across from her.
That Operations and Madeline were equally disgusted, frustrated and repelled by the situation, she had no doubt. Madeline had made that perfectly clear in her abbreviated briefing this morning. But the promised information was too vital, too tempting to resist.
And, in the end, it wasn’t their asses on the line, Nikita thought bitterly. It was hers.
And, of course, Michael’s.
As if her thoughts had conjured him up, Michael entered the room, silently striding in on bare feet. In the unforgiving glare of the fluorescent lights, his skin took on a pasty hue, the bruising acquired during his most recent mission highlighted in livid colors of purple and magenta on a translucent canvas.
He was naked as well; a fact that didn’t appear to trouble him at all as evidenced by his smooth and casual gait. Until she looked into his face and read his repressed fury in his carefully too-controlled eyes and the tight line of his jaw.
The bed sagged slightly as he sat next to her. Michael’s hand slid across her shoulders, the calluses rough against her skin. She stiffened rebelliously, but his strength was inexorable. Gently but firmly he pulled her closer, closer until her head was drawn under his chin, his arms wrapped around her protectively.
“No, Michael,” she whispered. “Don’t make me do this.”
He hushed her with a finger to her lips. “Close your eyes, Nikita.” As she hesitated, he lifted her chin and kissed her gently. “Close your eyes,” he repeated. “There is no one and nothing else but us. Only us.”
His lips caught hers again: soft, warm, full of invitation and promise. Obediently, she closed her eyes and let herself slide into an eddy of pure physical sensation. He shifted her until she sat in his lap with her chest pressed to his; presenting only the curve of her spine to the watchers. For several minutes he proceeded no further, simply concentrating on her lips. With a long exhalation, she relaxed in his arms and opened her mouth to his probing tongue. Drawing her hair aside he delicately caught her earlobe with his teeth. Her breath hitched as he bit gently before continuing his downward progression. He was unshaven and the beard stubble scratched and burned against her tender flesh, setting off undulating waves of heat even as she struggled with the revulsion of being an up-close-and-personal sex show.
As if she weighed nothing, Michael rose and lifted her. In a heartbeat, the unsheeted mattress was beneath her back. Her hand rose and tangled in Michael’s hair, pulling him closer.
Nothing else but us.
***
[
Next Thread |
Previous Thread |
Next Message |
Previous Message
]
| |
Feedback: 