| Subject: Relishing the Burn (5/6) Warning. Graphic and disturbing language and images |
Author:
d
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Date Posted: 09:10:21 08/04/01 Sat
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
What are love and hate but opposite sides of the same coin?
He burned to make her bleed, to make her plead and beg for mercy.
His gut still recoiled with humiliation when he remembered how she had pointed that damn gun at him, inches from his nose; how pathetic he had been, and how weak.
She would pay.
She deserved it.
This was only the first installment on the retribution he would exact.
Those haunting eyes snapped open again and he repressed a shudder. There was murder there. Reminding himself that he was invisible behind the one-way mirror, he surreptitiously wiped his suddenly sweaty hands on his wool slacks. Still, she knew he was there and the power that knowledge gave him over her was intoxicating, driving away his momentary flash of fear.
Brushing his hands on his pants had pulled the fabric tight over his crotch, where his erection stood rock hard. God, how he would love to fuck that bitch… his lip curled. Such a whore, it wouldn’t bother her to have him where had entertained so many others, her precious Michael being only one in a cast of thousands.
Perhaps she had never been fucked up the ass, he mused.
That was a tempting thought, indeed. To take that last cherry, to fuck her so hard she screamed; and to make Michael watch.
He felt himself harden more at the thought. Oh, yes, Michael would be forced to watch… that would be perfect. It was patently obvious how the man felt about the blond bitch: just watching his protective and possessive movements today had confirmed every suspicion Bauer had ever harbored about Michael and Nikita’s relationship.
Stupid fucking bastard, to open himself up like that. Better to fuck ‘em and leave ‘em. Never let a bitch become important.
But that gave him the key to Michael. Certainly Michael deserved retribution for the L-Virus fiasco as much as Nikita. To butt-fuck his woman in front of him… oh, yes, that would do nicely for starters. He wouldn’t fuck Michael though, Bauer decided. Not only was he quite certain that would not be a virginal experience for Michael; the other man would actually - pathetically, Bauer thought, his lip curling again in contempt - be grateful he was being screwed instead of his whore.
Gratitude was not what this was about. Vengeance was.
No, Michael would wait. And watch. And – best yet – listen to the bitch cry.
He closed his eyes for a moment, imagining. Michael could suck him off when he was done with Nikita. The feel of his fingers threaded into the long dark hair, forcing Michael’s mouth onto his cock… the expression of disgust and resigned submission in both faces… Bauer forced himself to open his eyes again. He would come in his pants right now if he didn’t stop the fantasy.
He gave his hard-on a brief pat and caught the disdainful sideways glance from Madeline. What a pair: the cold bastard and his ice princess second-in-command. He doubted there was enough warmth between them to resuscitate a mouse. He might drink their booze and play their games, but he didn’t trust these two one second longer than necessary.
They indulged him today, he knew. The promised lead on Osama Bin Laden was simply too tempting to refuse. And his demanded payment… ah, it felt as satisfying to hold the whip hand over Operations and Madeline as it did to humiliate Michael and Nikita.
In the other room, Michael said something to Nikita in French, the words too soft and too quick for Bauer to understand. The murderous blue stare shifted from her reflection in the mirrored glass and fixed on Michael’s face, only inches from her own. Then closed as her body arched down on his, her breath audibly hitching over the amplified sound system.
It was a very good day.
***
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