| Subject: Chapters 11-14 |
Author:
Sanlin
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Date Posted: 11:45:35 03/28/01 Wed
In reply to:
Sanlin
's message, "It's Absurd (crosspost from Leigh's AU/HR Board)" on 11:24:57 03/28/01 Wed
Chapter 11: In The Arms Of The Angels
When he could move again, Michael wrapped Nikita’s trembling form in a soft white towel.
He carried her, with her head cradled carefully against his chest, downstairs to the bedroom.
Collective Soul’s song "Giving" played softly in the background.
Giving me cause so I may yearn
Giving me words so I may learn
And I want more I want more
Giving me thoughts that I may keep
Giving me dreams so I may sleep
And I want more I want more
Still all I need is love
So give me more
He placed her yielding form beneath the white, silk sheets and then joined her in bed.
For the moment, he was too sated and happy to do more than draw her head down onto his chest, which was still slick with shower droplets and glistening with perspiration. He covered her face, eyelids, and throat with a warm cascade of kisses. His fingers stroked her angel-soft hair and he whispered words of love and pleasure into her ear in his native tongue.
In the background, the song continued:
Giving me calm to fall into
Giving me hope to guide me thru
And I want more I want more
Giving me light to see thru tears
Giving me strength to crush my fears
And I want more I want more
Still all I need is love
So give me more
“But Michael… French is such an ugly language,” Nikita recovered enough to joke, stealing a line from the movie ‘A Fish Called Wanda’. “I prefer Italian. Mio amante. Caro mio.”
Playing along, Michael begged, "Speak it! Speak it! Liebchen. Meinem Hertzen."
Nikita snuggled against Michael, feeling warm, safe, and loved. She laughed, coming back to life. Then just as suddenly, she started weeping uncontrollably onto Michael’s firm, muscular chest.
"Cherie, cherie! C’est d’accord?" Michael was worried he might have hurt her in his relentless passion.
"I’m fine," she wept. "I’m just… happy." She gazed into his luminous green, deeply trusting eyes and said, "I love you, Michael. I know I’ve made mistakes in the past, but… I can’t remember loving anyone but you."
And I won’t break you down
And I won’t bring you down anymore
And I won’t break you down
And I won’t bring you down anymore
Her words were sunshine in his heart. He stroked her damp, blond tresses and purred, "Moi aussi, mon coeur. Sans tu, mon esprit est vide et mon coeur est mort. Tu es ma vie, ma raison d’etre. " He covered her with silk sheets and then wrapped his arms and legs around her soft body, forming a warm, protective blanket.
Giving me choice so I may seek
Giving me faith so I’ll believe
And I want more I want more
Giving me breath of your mercy
Giving yourself to comfort me
And I want more I want more
Nikita couldn’t understand all of Michael’s words; but she understood the love in his voice. She stroked his chest and fell into a peaceful sleep.
Michael struggled to stay awake as long as possible to watch his Angel sleep. Her every breath was like the creation of the world. His world. He wished his arms could protect her from all the pain and hurt in her life. Snuggling down against her warm body, hugging her to his very soul, he thought, perhaps they could, if only for one night.
Still all I need is love
So give me more
(fading out) Love… Love…L…o…v…e…Love…
************
Chapter 12: Sneak Attack (NC-17)
Michael awoke, abruptly, from his deep sleep. He struggled, desperately, to take in his surroundings.
It was still early, in the quiet twilight hours before dawn.
He suddenly felt movement, and damp, delicious heat, down below his waist.
He groaned as he felt soft, silken hair brush his chest and the gentle, insistent pressure of warm lips teasing his manhood into delightful awareness.
"Nikita!" he moaned.
She was relentless, working him with her hot tongue and skillful fingers. His body convulsed and his fingers instinctively grabbed soft handfuls of silk sheets.
"It’s payback time, Michael." Nikita’s muffled voice laughed, lost somewhere under the covers.
She sensed Michael flexing his powerful stomach muscles, preparing to roll her over; his favorite trick for taking control of their lovemaking.
"Not this time!" she admonished, quickly settling herself on top of his erect manhood. She pinned his arms at his sides with her hands and gave him a warning squeeze with the powerful internal muscles between her legs.
Michael groaned, immediately lying absolutely still. If he moved, even fractionally, he wouldn’t be able to control his release.
"That’s better," Nikita laughed wickedly. "You are my prisoner." Nikita began a slow rhythm, calculated to bring Michael to the verge of completion and hold him there, hovering, on the edge of ecstasy.
"Oh, Nikita." Michael closed his eyes, moaning and surrendering completely to her compelling strategy. "Please… please…"
"More?" she laughed, having no intention of stopping now. She licked Michael’s navel and bit his hard, muscular chest possessively. Raking her fingernails down his back, she squeezed his manhood internally, until he screamed, his breath coming as a series of ragged, shuddering sobs.
She partially relented, freeing Michael’s hands. As she emerged from under the silk sheets, Nikita placed Michael’s hands against her quivering stomach and sensitive breasts.
Intensely relieved to be back in the game, Michael captured Nikita’s breasts with his powerful fingers, drawing her right breast to his burning lips, quenching his thirst, licking and laving its delicious coolness.
Nikita cried out suddenly, lost in a deep sea of warm, pleasurable sensations. Her walls rippled along his length, drawing him deeper towards her core.
Recovering momentarily, Nikita stroked Michael’s thighs, smiling at him affectionately, and clasped his buttocks firmly between her hands, drawing him more tightly against her, forcing his manhood deeper inside her inner walls.
They increased their rhythm, deepening their movements. Michael rose to meet Nikita’s every stroke with a powerful thrust. His arms drew her into a fierce, unbreakable embrace.
It was time to end this torture session. Nikita squeezed Michael’s manhood commandingly.
Obediently, he came within her; a hot flood of desire that threatened to annihilate her senses.
Nikita convulsed, sobbing. She covered Michael’s face with kisses as Michael trembled and groaned, conquered and permissive, beneath her.
When he recovered his voice, Michael whispered into Nikita’s ear, "I never thought I could learn to like ‘torture.’"
Nikita laughed, enfolding Michael in a warm embrace. She snuggled her face against his rugged chest and listened to the fierce, mesmerizing beat of his heart.
************
Chapter 13: By Dawn’s Early Light
Diffuse rays of light streamed in through the bedroom window, stroking the foot of Nikita’s bed with golden fingers.
Nikita was already awake and acutely, almost painfully, aware of her surroundings. Warily, she regarded her newest adversary; sunlight. Her intense blue eyes narrowed in silent suspicion and they glittered icily, revealing her increasing annoyance. With the irresistible arrival of dawn, sleep had fled from her, slipping back into the shadows like a subtle thief.
She’d been watching Michael for… not long enough. Eternity itself would be too short a time for that study. He was perfect and for one night, he had been her fantasy made flesh. But the night had passed, taking her dreams and fond memories with it. Now things looked like they always did, colder and harsher by dawn’s early light.
Silently, Nikita cursed the arrival of morning. In a few minutes, the light would reach Michael’s face and restore memory and animation to his presently smooth features. All his deeply buried pain, usually concealed beneath an unreadable, emotionless mask, and his carefully maintained self-control would return, she knew. The moment he opened his warmly seductive, and hauntingly beautiful, green eyes, reality would crash, like relentless waves against the rocky shore of his personal honor and the impassable cliffs of his overwhelming duty to Section.
He was even more beautiful asleep than when he was conscious and alert. If that was possible, Nikita thought, smiling quietly to herself. His auburn curls and Cupid’s bow lips made him look like a child, or a cherub. At moments like these, he wasn’t Section One’s dark, avenging angel. He was her Guardian Angel: a gentle, loving, protective presence. She sighed. He could only be the man of her dreams in her dreams. Or, while he, himself, slept; temporarily oblivious of his past trials and present dilemmas.
Instinctively, she reached out a hand, intending to stroke his angelic face. She paused, her fingers poised, inches from his cheek. Her entire body trembled with desire. She was filled with a sudden, unbearable longing to feel his rose-petal soft skin, the inviting, strong curve of his neck and his silken-smooth thighs, beneath her fingertips. His sensual lips invited her caress. His eyelids begged to be kissed open so she could once more lose herself in the eternal, emerald depths of his gaze. She fought an accompanying desire to touch every part of his intriguing masculinity: his slightly rough, unshaven face; his hard, muscular chest; and, most tempting of all, his potent, magnificent manhood. But he looked so… peaceful. Her breath caught in the back of her throat and she barely suppressed a small whimper, like a child forbidden to touch her favorite plaything. Feeling every moment’s separation from him as if it were an untreated, life threatening wound, she nevertheless reluctantly pulled back her hand and decided not to wake him… yet.
The beginnings of a secret smile curved the sweet corners of his sleeping lips. She wondered what he was dreaming about. She blushed; finding herself hoping it was thoughts of her that brought such a guileless, gentle look to his normally carefully controlled and intentionally blank features.
************
Chapter 14: Playing Possum
Michael smiled ever so slightly, keeping his eyes closed and his body relaxed. He controlled his breathing, expertly mimicking sleep.
Nikita’s warm, enveloping presence was pressed delightfully up against his body. He didn’t want to move ever again, or do anything that would end this deliciously erotic moment of bliss.
Instinctively, he knew she was watching him. Her thoughts were warm and bright. They brushed against the edges of his consciousness like weightless, invisible fingertips. He felt the feather-light sensation of her eyes moving over his body, studying his naked form intently. She was memorizing every part of him. Without words or touch, he knew she shared his deep, passionate longing to join their bodies once more, in a lover’s embrace. The heat of her increasing passion emanated from her body like an incandescent flame. From the low, passionate growls she couldn’t quite contain, he could tell she was pleased, and becoming deeply aroused, by what she saw in his sleeping form.
He couldn’t help smiling again. He’d spent hours the previous night watching her: drinking in her gentle countenance, feeling like a man in the desert, dying of thirst that had stumbled suddenly upon a blissful oasis.
He’d slept the few hours his body required and it had been a deep, restful sleep. Nightmares and Nikita never shared the same bed with him.
The rest of the time he’d spent with his body pressed protectively and possessively against her warm, yielding flesh. Then, as now, he breathed in the sweet, honeyed fragrance of her hair and the spiced-peach scent of her angelic femininity.
He stifled a growl, his breath catching in the back of his throat, and barely suppressed an urgent moan of desire.
Rapidly, he stilled his thoughts. He wasn’t ready to announce his intentions, or his awareness, by becoming aroused prematurely.
The sunlight crept up the silk sheets. It slipped past Michael’s smooth, inviting thighs; brushed like fingertips against his gently rising and falling chest; and then slid along the full, sweet, tantalizing length of his seductive throat. Nikita stroked Michael’s chin delicately with her fingers, mere heartbeats before the sleep-thief dawn did likewise. She kissed his soft, sensual lips.
Michael’s eyelids fluttered open. He regarded Nikita with an intensely alert, and arrestingly passionate, gaze.
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