| Subject: Kiss and Make Up - slightly naughty |
Author:
Genevieve
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Date Posted: 01:27:07 12/26/01 Wed
In reply to:
Genevieve
's message, "More Kiss and Make Up - Revised, but still as naughty..." on 19:35:32 12/18/01 Tue
The candles had burned low but still flickered, adding their warm glow to the moonlight streaming through her window. Nikita stretched, every muscle in her body smarting. There was a weight on her legs, on her hip, and for one confused moment she could not remember where she was. Then the weight on her shifted slightly, and she could feel him, his legs tangled with hers, a long arm flung over her hips and resting on her belly, the fingers spread over her skin almost protectively.
His body came awake before he did, shifting restlessly behind her, hardness curling against her soft curves. Nikita sighed, glorying in the feeling of Michael's warm body pressed all along the length of her. His breath was tickling the hairs on the nape of her neck and his stubbled jaw was burrowed into the crook of her neck. His nearness, just the sensation of his skin against hers was making her flesh goosepimple. Everywhere. It had been a very long month without him.
All five senses achingly aware of her, Michael slowly opened his eyes. He wanted her again, was instantly rock-hard against her. He shouldn't have been surprised. It was never enough, never be enough, no matter how many time they made love. The wanting never seemed to stop, but it was so much more than that. It was the sound of her voice, the touch of her hand on his, a private smile in the middle of Section when no-one else was with them. The longing was the sum of many parts, and every single one of them was scorched into his mind, his body.
Nikita grinned happily at the stomach-fluttering sensation of warm lips brushing the nape of her neck. Stretching lazily, she arched herself against him, relishing his body's instant reaction as she moved against him. Nikita chuckled softly as Michael's hands gripped her hips admonishingly, before pressing herself closer still. A groan of defeat rumbled in his chest. Coming fully awake, he tugged on her hips, turning her body over to face him.
Michael skimmed a hand down her arm, his open palm coming to rest on her hip. He closed his eyes, wondering if such a simple gesture would ever stop making his heart skip a beat. God, she is beautiful. And she is mine.
"Good morning." His accent always seemed thicker after sleep and, after all these years of hearing it, it still sent a thrill down her spine every time. Nikita peered over his shoulder at the small clock on her bedside table, and laughed softly. Two o'clock in the morning. She ran her fingers lightly along his jaw before trailing kisses in their wake.
"Well, technically." She smiled at him. "It is morning...but only just." She brushed her lips against his, coaxing his mouth open before slipping her tongue gently between his lips, desperate to taste him again. Michael needed no coercing, and they were both breathless and trembling when she broke their kiss, stroking his face, her eyes drinking in the sight of him.
"But it is good."
She slipped her arms around him, shuddering softly in delight as her breasts brushed his chest, her nipples stiffening immediately at the contact. Nikita buried her face in the crook of his neck, inhaling the scent of his skin.
God, how she had missed him. They'd made love twice. Her body shivered with the memory of the sheer abandonment of it. They had clawed and bitten, caressed and soothed, her body now feeling as though she had just gone through boot camp and she still wanted him, wanted to crawl inside his skin and make him cry out her name.
Michael shifted slightly, easing his injured shoulder into a more comfortable position. There was still pain, but he didn't care. At the first touch of her hands on his body, he had stopped noticing anything apart from Nikita. She felt so warm in his arms, an irresistible contradiction of soft yielding flesh and sleekly muscled limbs, and he felt his heart start to race once more as she wriggled closer to him, her thighs brushing against his.
Nikita sucked some much needed air into her lungs, trying to cool down both her mind and body. He's injured, Nikita. Give the poor boy a chance to recover. She eyed him speculatively. If not for that bandage on his arm, there wasn' t much to indicate that he might not be at a hundred percent. It must be that Level Five training ... and here I am feeling as though I've been hit by a Mack truck!
Nikita's lips parted as though to speak, before she clamped them shut again. Michael waited patiently. She obviously had something to say to him, and he was sure that it was going to be interesting.
"I can't believe you made me go through all that stuff with the lipsticks!" Suddenly cranky, Nikita smacked him lightly on his uninjured arm, before curling her fingers through his tousled hair and drawing his face close again. His mouth was soft against hers, the touch of his tongue lightly dancing across her lips sending the butterflies in her belly cart wheeling once more.
Michael pulled away from her slightly, putting a hand up to her face. It was dark, but he was close enough so that she could see his eyes, those eyes of his that could tell her everything that his heart wanted to say. Her only regret was that it had taken her so long to learn how to read them.
He smirked at her, tilting his head to one side to study her, an eyebrow raised in mock disbelief. "Did you not enjoy it?"
Grateful for the cover of darkness, Nikita blushed at the memory of it but managed to grin back at him. She turned her head to kiss the palm of the hand touching her cheek. "You know I did."
Michael smiled at her reply and rubbed his face against hers, his hands coming up to tangle in her hair. Nikita moaned softly as his fingers pressed against her skull, gently pushing on the pressure points. Tangling her legs with his once more, she rubbed her foot along the inside of his calf, sparks seeming to shoot across her skin wherever it brushed against him. She heard him sigh, a melancholy sound at odds with their lightheartedness a moment before.
The sudden lump in Michael's throat was making it hard to speak, but he wanted her to understand just what she did for him, what she did to him every time he was with her. He spoke softly, the words floating on the darkness cradling them.
"Every time I am shot, or wounded ... every time I come close to death, your face is all I can see. Every hurt that I have ever caused you slaps me across the face, and it is though death itself is taunting me. All I can hear in my head is too late. Too late. Too late to make amends. Too late to tell you how I feel about you."
He stopped, caressing her face before touching his mouth to hers in a gentle kiss that still managed to sear her lips. Michael took her hand and held it to his chest, pressing down on the steady thud of his heart. "That is why I came straight to you. I needed you so much, to feel your touch, to hold you, to feel as though I was really alive again. You always bring me back."
She bit her lip, trying to stop the tears that were welling up in her eyes from spilling over. It was quite a long speech for him, and he needed no distraction from her.
He hesitated when he saw her eyes glittering with moisture, but forced himself to go on. Having someone with whom he could be completely honest was still a luxury that he had to adjust to, but he knew that she needed this new level of intimacy as much as he. She would be able to handle anything he told her ... after so many years of half-truths and secrets, the truth was a gift she treasured, no matter how harsh it seemed.
"Three of my team died yesterday. If this bullet had been two inches lower, I would have died too." He touched her face again, almost in apology as she turned pale, shock widening her eyes. "I almost didn't want to come here, didn't want to bring the scent of death into your home. But you were all I thought about, every moment of every day. So I came home to you, and your new lipsticks. I opened your door, saw the Christmas tree, heard you singing at the top of your lungs ... it was all so normal."
His eyes searched hers almost fiercely, his pulse starting to race as he saw understanding flash across her face. She knows. She understands. "A normal life. My life with you, not with Section."
He paused, his thumb caressing her eyebrow in a gesture so familiar, so tender that Nikita could literally feel herself melting into him. "It was as though my heart had started beating again."
"C'est seulement avec vous que je suis vraiment vivant." He pressed her hand harder against the thumping of his heart, his skin warm beneath her splayed fingers.
He smiled at her blank look, but made no apology. Michael never found speaking English a problem, but there were times that his feelings were just too much, too intense. Lapsing into his native tongue just seemed to be right when he was with her. "Je ne puis pas vivre sans vous."
Nikita took a deep breath, running her fingers lightly up and down his back. Damn the man. He could be telling her that he hated her new haircut or that he was just going to take the garbage out, and it would still send her insides into major meltdown.
She ran her hands lightly up his arms, tracing the outline of the bandage on his shoulder delicately, before taking his face in her hands. He closed his eyes as she pressed feather-light kisses along his jaw, his eyelids, his forehead, finally kissing the frown between his eyebrows away.
Michael gathered her in his arms, holding her so tightly that she could scarcely breathe. "I am glad that you were here, that you were not on this mission. You were safe. But I also wanted you to be out there with me, by my side, and I hate myself for it." He pulled back slightly, his eyes searching hers. He found what he was looking for, empathy burning in the luminous blue depths in the semi-darkness. "There is no one else is this world that I trust as I trust you. Inside and outside Section."
"Michael..." Nikita tried to swallow the emotion swelling up in her throat. "You have saved me more times than I can remember, more times than I ever deserved. Anything that I can give back to you will never be enough. You have nothing to feel guilty about, okay?" She tightened her arms across his broad back, reveling in the sense of peace that being in his arms gave her. "I would do anything to keep you safe. Anything just to keep you."
Michael's heart swelled with a tangled wave of feeling, love and gratitude colliding with relief and more than a tinge of guilt. He kissed her hard, his mouth warm and open on hers, his tongue exploring her mouth with a sense of urgency.
Nikita moaned low in her throat. It was as though Michael was stealing her very breath away, her pulse starting to hammer in her ears as he moved against her, his body hard and insistent. Wait. There had been something that she had wanted to say before she lost herself in him again. Nikita eased herself out of the heated kiss gently, trying not to laugh at the look of loss on his face.
Giving him a tremulous smile, she took a deep breath as she mentally flipped through the French grammar book that she had been reading during her downtime. She blinked back sudden tears as his whispered words clicked into English in her head, a bittersweet memory floating through her soul. Leaning forward, she kissed him softly, feeling his lips curve in a surprised but delighted smile against hers as she answered him.
"I can't live without you, either."
~*~*~*~*~
Nikita opened her eyes, blinking slowly through the remnants of the now-forgotten dream that had awakened her. Pale early morning sunlight was struggling to penetrate her windows. Probably around six. She twisted around to see her clock, and burst out laughing.
Michael gazed bleary-eyed at her from the depths of his pillow, not bothering to move his head at all. Every muscle in his body ached, a languid exhaustion that owed nothing to the mission and everything to Nikita.
"Something I said?"
Pure joy fizzed up in her chest and she was helpless with laughter, her eyes blurring with tears as she took in the sight of that beautiful face, softened by sleep, sporting a very unusual mix of stubble and colour. What a vision to wake up to! She propped herself up on her elbow, head on her hand, her whole body shaking with laughter.
Well, I guess we now know that any lipstick will rub off under extreme conditions! Reaching over him, she grabbed a tissue and swiped at his mouth. He quirked an eyebrow at her but didn't flinch as she did her best to remove the streaks of makeup from his lips and chin.
Michael sighed inwardly, musing once again that it was a very good thing that her apartment was no longer under surveillance. Nikita grinned at him, managing to get her giggles under control long enough to explain.
"I don't think that shade suits you." I wonder what you would have done if I'd spat on the tissue first? She tried to stifle the laugh that the thought produced, but failed miserably. The more bemused Michael looked, the more she laughed, the tears streaming down as she pictured him submitting to her attentions with a suspiciously damp kleenex.
He smiled as he watched her, the sound of her laughter tumbling over him, a wave of warmth that was taking him down in its undertow. Their lives in Section had never held much joy, but Nikita always found what little there was to be had and seized it, with open hands and an open heart. Michael could feel his own spirit relaxing, unfolding from its tightly wound confines. It was the same every time he was with her.
"Nikita?"
"Hmmm?" She wiped her eyes and tried to choke down another snort of mirth.
"What you were singing when I, uh, surprised you?" The question seemed to have the effect of dousing her in cold water, embarrassment staining her cheeks as she stopped laughing and ducked her head. Michael smiled smugly. Thought you were off the hook, did you?
He knew that she only sang when she thought she was alone, and that she would have been mortified when she found out that he'd been listening to her. He tried his best to look serious as he watched the colour flush her face.
"Uh, it's called Shut Up."
"Is that really what it's called?" He'd already looked at the CD cover, but he seemed to be on a roll when it came to teasing her today.
"Ah, no." She grinned at him, her embarrassment dissolving under his affectionate scrutiny. "It's called Shut Up and Kiss Me."
"It certainly seemed to inspire you." He was smiling into her eyes, and she felt the same old tug of longing in her heart. She reached out and touched the small cut above his eyebrow, circling it tenderly with a fingertip.
"Yeah, well ..." She shrugged. "I haven't been able to stop singing it for days now. It's how I was feeling. I was, uh, missing you and ..." Nikita paused as she caught the look of pure male satisfaction on his face. Cheeky bugger.
"Sorry I made you wait for it." The outraged look on her face at his smug apology was almost worth taking a bullet for. He wouldn't have missed it for the world.
She blinked at his tone, for once completely stuck for words. Hmmm, think you're pretty good, hey? Well, I think you must have gone on one too many successful Valentine missions, matey. She shrugged at him casually, hoping he couldn't hear the hammering of her heart against her ribs as she remembered the kiss that he'd finally given her.
"Wait for what? The kiss? No problem. I could have waited longer."
Michael studied her through narrowed eyes, taking in her flushed face and slightly unsteady voice.
"Really?" Nikita failed to notice the sudden steely glint of intent in his gaze and was quite unprepared for the hands that covertly reached for her hips.
"Oh, yeah. No big deal ... oomph!"
Michael rolled onto his back swiftly, taking her with him. Nikita gasped as he settled her on top of him, his hands hard on her hips. Leaning down, she brushed her lips against his, teasing and nibbling at the fuller bottom lip, smirking in satisfaction as his body instantly stirred under hers once more, his hips subtly thrusting upwards.
They stared at each other, Nikita's now-dry hair hanging around their faces, a pale curtain of scented silk. The air around them was practically humming, an erotic gauntlet thrown down between them. Michael broke the silence reluctantly, the words breathed against her mouth.
"I have to go back in shortly. I shouldn't be gone more than a few hours." He hated saying the words, but there was no avoiding the fact that he would have to get out of this bed very soon.
Michael watched as disappointment clouded Nikita's eyes, some of the light going from her face as she looked away sadly. Determined to act as though he hadn't noticed, he spoke again, keeping his tone light.
"Would you like to rent The Pillow Book again tonight? We could see how it actually ends." His eyes intently focused on her face, his heart lightened as her gaze swung around to meet his again, a smile of mischievous delight curving her mouth. He slid his hands under the covers and then slowly up her thighs, higher and higher. Michael smiled as her breathless moan confirmed that he found his intended target.
Her voice was a low gurgle in her throat.
"Later. We'd only end up paying a late fee on it again, anyway." She grinned, quirking an eyebrow at him as she brushed his mouth with her lips once more, running her hands greedily over his chest.
"Are you sure? I could run out and get ..." His words were cut off, swallowed up by a kiss that made his head swim. Finally feeling the need to breathe, he reluctantly pulled his mouth away from Nikita's.
His voice sounded very unsteady in his ears. "Fine. No movie tonight. We should eat something now, though. Did you want me to..." Michael's train of thought was suddenly and totally derailed by Nikita's wandering hands and mouth.
She smirked down at him, her eyes glittering with wicked purpose.
"Michael, all I want you to do is shut up."
#*#*#*#*#
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