NC-17
Slash M/M = Michael/Jurgen

“Different from what?”

“Different from you.”

The words echoed endlessly through Michael’s mind as he walked through the halls of the Section, hands shoved into the pockets of his coat, his feet automatically taking him to a destination he had not even contemplated. As much a relief as it was to know that Nikita was exonerated, cleared of suspicion, it did not ease the trepidation he felt that Jurgen knew their secret. Nikita would no more accept his belief that Jurgen would use it against them in the future than he would her belief that they could trust him....and here they were at an impasse.

He found himself outside the door to Jurgen’s chamber and entered without even knocking, pausing at the top of the stairs to scan the chamber for him, seeing Jurgen seated before the Go table. Standing there he could close his eyes and let himself fall back into the past, see himself and Jurgen seated at the table, Simone behind him and whispering into his ear, telling him what move to make. Could hear Jurgen complain good-naturedly that it wasn’t fair to help him and Simone just laughed, saying that Jurgen had an unfair advantage, putting her arms around Michael’s neck and giving him a kiss on the cheek.

Slowly Michael descended the stairs, watching Jurgen as he went, but the other man did not even turn to acknowledge his presence, merely sat there, and studying the board. Michael turned to examine the sim globe, as capable of maintaining silence as Jurgen, and so did not see the other man’s slight smile, quickly hidden.

“Do you still play?” asked Jurgen.

Michael took a step forward. “It was Simone’s game, not mine.” he said with a careless shrug.

“So....you’re not here to play.” Jurgen leaned back in the chair to look at him, expression serene and hands folded into his lap. “Then why are you here?”

“You know why I’m here.” The tension and the worry of the last few days were catching up to him, leaving him with a throbbing headache and no patience at all for these games. “Why are you doing this?” he asked, giving up the thrust and parry for the direct approach.

“Doing what? Talking with you?” No response from Michael, just a blank stare, seemingly relaxed, but the muscle in his jaw tightened, the only sign of his irritation. A small point, true, but one all the same.... “Sit.”

Michael moved closer to the table but did not sit, merely stood there, waiting for a reply. Jurgen sighed, one hand going out to pick up a stone, idly running his fingers over it. “You want to know why I lied and told them Nikita had been held prisoner by the Freedom League.” His head lifted to meet Michael’s eyes, his own calm behind the glasses, and he rose slowly from his chair to walk around the table, circling behind Michael. “You want to know what I want in return....for saving both your lives. Correct?”

A hand brushed across the back of Michael’s shoulders and he held himself still as Jurgen leaned over to speak softly into his ear. “If I told you what I wanted from you.... would you do it?”

“He likes you,” said Simone, sitting across the Go table from Michael and studying the board, stone in hand.

“I like him.” responded Michael, his attention fixed on the board as well, hands steepled before him.

Simone sighed as she regarded Michael fondly. The first time she had seen him, she hadn’t thought it was possible for someone that beautiful to not be vain....but vain he was not. Nor was he unaware of the effect he had on those around him, for using that to his advantage was a part of his training, but he didn’t seem to understand that he could affect some men the same way he did women.

“He really likes you.” She put a special emphasis on the word “likes” and at last Michael lifted his head to look at her, frowning a little.

“I don’t see it that way.”

“Believe me, Michael, when it comes to you, I am an expert in lust.” She reached across the table to run a fingertip along the line of his jaw. “And that man is in lust.”

Michael took her hand and brought it to his lips, eyes softening. “You’re the only one I want.” He placed a gentle kiss against the back of her hand, giving a gentle tug of her arm to draw her closer, Simone leaning over the table to kiss him.

“Do you two need a room?” There was a jocular note in Jurgen’s voice as he walked towards them and Michael pulled back with a smile of regret, head bending once more over the board. As Jurgen was standing behind him, Michael did not see the wistful expression that crossed the other man’s face, the hand poised to touch him on the head, but Simone did, reaching across the board to squeeze Michael’s hand briefly.

Jurgen’s eyes shifted to her and she stared back at him, putting all her feeling into one look. Mine, she thought at him, fierce and possessive, and from Jurgen a thin smile that said quite plainly, we’ll see....

“Would you, Michael?”

Jurgen’s voice brought him out of the memory of that long-ago conversation with Simone, when she had first tried to tell him that Jurgen was interested in being more than friends, remembering also with a pang how naive he had been. Their relationship was forbidden and the only times they were able to steal for each other had been in Jurgen’s chamber, where there were no Section monitors to observe and record, an arrangement Jurgen had agreed to....

“Do what?” asked Michael, turning to face the other man, an eyebrow arched. “Touch....you?” He ran his knuckles down Jurgen’s cheek, Jurgen closing his eyes and swallowing hard as one finger stroked his cheek. Through half-lidded eyes Michael studied him as he continued to lazily stroke his cheek, gauging reaction and deciding how far to go, moved closer and allowed his hand to slide back and to the side of Jurgen’s head as he leaned closer.

“Kiss you....” He brushed his lips against Jurgen’s, pulling back teasingly when the other man leaned unconsciously forward, allowing him a brief taste. A hand placed against Jurgen’s chest stopped him, sliding down muscular chest and to flat stomach, pulling shirt free of pants, fingers plucking at the waistband of his jeans. Jurgen drew in a deep breath as he placed hands on Michael’s waist, Michael allowing himself to be pulled in closer, Jurgen’s mouth pressing tentatively against his and then harder when there was no resistance.

As Jurgen’s arms started to wind around his waist, Michael brought up his hands between them and placed them on Jurgen’s chest as he broke off the kiss, Jurgen staring at him, breathing a little hard. “I told you before....I’m not interested in you that way.” And gave him a hard enough shove that Jurgen’s hold on him was broken, taking one step back, watching Jurgen’s expression go from flummoxed to sudden understanding, anger flickering in his eyes.

Turning on his heel, Michael went back up the stairs and out of the chamber.

Two days passed since Michael’s encounter with Jurgen. Michael was in conference with Madeline and Operation’s in Madeline’s new office. He would be over-seeing a high-priority mission from Section and they were giving him the intel he needed to prepare a mission profile.

Michael left Madeline’s office and headed for his own. As he traversed the long corridor, he glanced over at the exercise arena and his heart thudded in his chest. Nikita and Jurgen were there, working out. Nikita’s back was to Michael, but his eyes locked on to her, absorbing her image. He was oblivious to Jurgen for the moment.

Jurgen, however, was totally attuned to Michael. He smiled to himself then moved, one leg sweeping out to knock Nikita to the floor. Once she had landed on her back, Jurgen moved over her then bent his head to claim a kiss. In that moment he knew that Michael was aware of him. And when Nikita threaded her fingers into his hair and kissed him back, Jurgen knew that he had just scored a direct hit. Michael was reeling.

Turning away, Michael headed for his office. He closed the door behind him then went to the window to shut the blinds, but the image of Nikita kissing Jurgen remained, imprinted in his mind. She had kissed him willingly....eagerly. Michael felt his stomach twist into knots. But that was not acceptable. So he sat down behind his desk and switched on his computer. A moment later he was inputting information, his focus tuned in to the files before him. But the effort to remain focused made him shake.

The moment Michael retreated into his office, Jurgen broke the kiss. He smiled at Nikita, his fingertips brushing her cheek, and then he rose to his feet. “That’s enough for today,” he said softly. “Go shower.”

“Will I see you later?” Nikita asked, still oblivious to Michael having witnessed the kiss.

“Perhaps,” Jurgen countered. “Go.” He watched Nikita glide away, and then he crossed the hallway. Jurgen didn’t knock; he simply opened the door then moved to stand in front of the desk. “All work and no play makes Michael a dull boy,” he sing-songed.

Michael didn’t react to Jurgen’s presence, his eyes remained on his monitor screen and his fingers still typed, but he did respond. “What do you want?” Michael hissed. He couldn’t keep the pain from his voice.

Jurgen sighed, pressing his palms on the desk top and leaning over it.

“You know the answer to that, Michael,” he whispered. “Come play with me.”

“Get out!” Michael shot back.

“We play the game by my rules,” Jurgen responded, a cold smile curving his lips. Then he turned and walked out.

Michael closed his eyes the minute Jurgen was gone, but then he opened them and rose to his feet. He switched off the PC without saving his work and shrugged off his jacket, revealing a black tank top. A moment later he was across the hall, facing the other man. “What are the rules?” Michael questioned, but he didn’t wait for a reply. Pulling back his arm, he made a fist and delivered a right cross to Jurgen’s chin.

The blond man’s head snapped back, but he didn’t falter. He struck out at Michael and was blocked. The younger man had an instinct in combat that could not be matched, but Jurgen wasn’t about to fight fair. He was fighting to win. Spitting blood after Michael landed another right cross, Jurgen answered the question. “If I can’t have what I want, then I’ll take what I can get,” he drawled. And his meaning was clear. He would take Nikita.

“You’ll destroy her!” Michael hissed. He spun around to deliver a roundhouse kick, but Jurgen stepped out of range. Michael continued his spin and connected with the other man’s thigh.

“Nice move,” Jurgen commended, biting back a moan as he rubbed his thigh. Pain was pleasure....intensified. That’s the lesson that he was going to teach Michael in the end. He smiled. “Give Nikita some credit, Michael. She’s stronger than you know. Maybe stronger than you....and I couldn’t break you.”

All at once, Michael’s anger dissipated. He realized that he was playing right into Jurgen’s hands. “Game’s over,” Michael whispered, as he drew his mask firmly back into place. He turned to go but found his way blocked.

Jurgen locked eyes with Michael. “The game has just begun,” he countered, his voice becoming husky. “May the best man win,” he taunted, even as his eyes dropped to Michael’s chest. He moved as if to leave, but as he reached Michael’s shoulder, Jurgen used the same move he had used on Nikita, sweeping the other man’s legs out from under him. When Michael hit the floor, Jurgen moved over him, pinning the strong arms down and pressing his knee into Michael’s groin to keep him still. “I can give you what you need, Michael,” he drawled, his eyes roving over the beautiful face. “Same offer as before....with Simone. You can have Nikita....I’m willing to share you.”

“What do you want from me?” Michael challenged, trying not to let what he was feeling show. Fear was the one weakness that Jurgen could use to destroy him. And Michael was very much afraid of the other man. Afraid of what Jurgen could do to Nikita. He could rip her to shreds without breaking a sweat. Jurgen was the master manipulator. Michael had learned from him how to use mind games to get people to do what he wanted. He wasn’t proud of that fact, but he did what he had to do.

“I want your passion, Michael,” Jurgen whispered. He bent his head and flicked his tongue over the younger man’s sensual lips. When Michael didn’t react, Jurgen claimed his mouth, his tongue slipping into hot sweetness.

Michael allowed the kiss. When Jurgen pulled back he replied, “It would be a lie.”

Jurgen sighed then rolled off Michael, allowing him to rise. He watched as Michael wiped his mouth with the back of one hand, a deliberate insult. But Jurgen only laughed and stood up as well. “I have to go,” he said, heading for the door. “I’m a man with a mission.”

The mission was legit, and Nikita was on the team. Michael learned of it from Walter. And it was from Walter that Michael discovered that Nikita had been shot and was being taken to Medlab. He left his office and headed there, uncaring if Section were watching.

Michael stayed with Nikita until the doctors declared that she would pull through. Then he kept vigil, leaving only when Madeline ordered him too. But he didn’t obey her by going to his office to get some sleep. Instead, Michael returned to Jurgen’s quarters. He stormed in, flying down the stairs, and grabbing a fistful of the other man’s shirt.

Jurgen was smiling as Michael threw him up against the wall. He didn’t flinch when the other man made a fist, and he didn’t make a sound when knuckles connected with his chin. Laughter rippled out of Jurgen when Michael released him and stepped back. Jurgen watched the other man closely, saw the chest heaving with repressed rage. Brushing fingertips over his sore jaw, Jurgen asked, “So, Michael....are you ready to play the game?”

“Play the game....” echoed Michael and felt the anger drain out of him in a rush, leaving him tired. “All this....just a game to you. Why?”

Jurgen rubbed his jaw, a small smile playing on his lips. “It passes the time.” he said with a shrug, eyes glinting with a mocking light. “And it amuses me.” He brushed past Michael as he moved over to the Go table and picked up a piece. “People are so easily manipulated, maneuvered, like pieces on the board. You sacrifice a few to reach your ultimate goal.”

Michael closed his eyes, seeing in his mind’s eye Nikita lying on the bed in Medlab, so frighteningly still and pale. “Is Nikita one of those to be sacrificed?”

“Michael, Michael....” Jurgen shook his head chidingly. “I told you—she’s stronger than you think.” He turned his head to look at Michael, expression innocent. “And tell me that you haven’t played her in the past as well—haven’t manipulated her, used her feelings for you to get what you want from her.”

“For her own good....” whispered Michael, feeling a little sick at the thought of comparison between himself and Jurgen.

“Don’t you think she deserves to be happy?” Jurgen walked leisurely over to Michael, a hand on his shoulder as he leaned in close. “Do you really think you can make her happy, Michael?”

Even though a part of him knew that Jurgen was just manipulating him as well, his words cut deep to the heart of Michael’s own self-doubt. How could he balance the demands of the Section with the demands of a relationship with Nikita? And how could he expect her to love him when he didn’t even love himself....

“You will pull her down with you, Michael, just like a drowning man trying to save himself. She’ll lose herself with you—become more like you. You’ll be the one to destroy her. Do you want that for Nikita?” asked Jurgen silkily, his mouth close to Michael’s ear.

“No....” He didn’t know what he was trying to deny, Jurgen’s vision of their future or his insinuation that Michael would use her to save himself.

“But that’s what will happen. She’s malleable in her own way; eventually she will meld into the Section....and lose more of herself. And you will hasten her, whether you mean to or not. Will you still want her, once she has become a creature of the Section? Or wouldn’t it be kinder to cut her loose now?”

Michael gave a little shake of his head, making an attempt to banish Jurgen’s influence, but the words had already sunk deep into his mind and fastened their hooks, giving strength to that little voice of self-doubt. Simone died because of you, said that little voice, and so will Nikita if you insist on pulling her with you....

“You don’t need Nikita, Michael. You need someone that can play the Section’s games, someone that can withstand them....” Jurgen’s hand squeezed his shoulder gently, lips pressing against the nape of his neck and sending a shiver through him. “Someone that has a position of strength....” His hand slid down Michael’s chest, arm going around his slim waist as mouth nuzzled against his throat and pulling him back against Jurgen.

That broke Michael of his paralysis, the obvious sign of Jurgen’s excitement pressing into him, and he shoved the arm away, spinning away from Jurgen. Jurgen made no attempt to stop him as he left his quarters, his laughter carrying up to Michael and echoing for a long time in his mind.

With typical stamina Nikita recuperated quickly, back on active status mere weeks after her shooting, and once back on her feet she pursued the relationship with Jurgen. It was hard to watch, the two of them together, Nikita laughing and smiling, always touching him, and Jurgen playing her so well, doing all the right things, knowing all the buttons to push. And there was nothing Michael could say to her, nothing that she wouldn’t interpret as sheer jealousy....and so he remained silent.

He put himself into his work but his focus was lacking. He would find himself sitting in his office, staring at a blank screen and wondering what they were doing now. As if sensing the opportunity, neither Madeline nor Operations made an attempt to hinder the relationship between Nikita and Jurgen, encouraging it in their own way by teaming the two together for missions, missions that Michael would invariably have to run from the Section or a van.

Michael’s own tentative attempts to draw Nikita away from Jurgen were firmly rebuffed. Too little, too late, said that voice in his head, and while it hurt deeply that she was drifting away from him, he obeyed that little voice when it said to let her go. For his part Jurgen sensed Michael’s withdrawal, his refusal to play the game, and set about to pull him back in. Rouse his protective instincts and his anger as well, a confrontation would then be inevitable and he would see to it that Nikita witnessed it....

Returning to his apartment after a very long day, Michael found a videocassette lying on his coffee table and stood there for a long moment staring down at it, knowing what had to be on it but unable to stop himself from putting it into the VCR. Standing in front of the TV, he watched as the picture came on and closed his eyes against the image before him—Jurgen atop Nikita, her legs wrapped around his waist, rocking against him as he moved leisurely in her.

Michael stabbed at the stop button on the VCR and ejected the tape, methodically pulling out the tape inside before tossing it into the garbage. And then went to find something strong to drink....

Jurgen was waiting for Michael in his quarters. Had known he would come. He was sitting at the table, studying the Go board, when Michael glided down the stairs. He could feel rage emanating from Michael like an aura, but it was held carefully in check. For now. Jurgen looked up as Michael moved to stand before him, but said nothing.

“You’ll destroy her!” Michael hissed, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. He wanted to smash them into Jurgen’s face, but held back. He had to keep control. Now more than ever.

“I can,” Jurgen conceded. “Whether or not I do....is up to you.”

Michael didn’t blink. “What do you want?” He would not hesitate about this. Nikita’s soul was at stake. He had destroyed her innocence, but he would not take her soul. Nor allow Jurgen to smother it.

Jurgen stood up and moved around the table till he was standing in front of Michael. He studied the beautiful face, eyes lingering on the sensual mouth. Then Jurgen tangled his fingers in Michael’s hair and kissed him. He felt the other man jerk back, but he followed, and then Michael froze, accepting the kiss, but not participating. It was enough. Jurgen heard footsteps on the stairs and didn’t need to look to know that it was Nikita.

“God....” Nikita hissed the word as she stood on the bottom step, frozen. She watched Jurgen step away from Michael and made to turn and run. But he called her name and Nikita listened.

“Don’t go,” Jurgen beseeched, moving to Nikita and taking her by the hand. He could see that her eyes were locked on Michael. “Do you want him?” Jurgen whispered in Nikita’s ear. “The truth.”

She nodded, couldn’t have denied it anyway. Nikita swallowed hard then said, “Why?”

Jurgen laughed, a sound rippling with deep satisfaction. He knew that he was the apex of the triangle. He was the power and he would not be denied. “Michael is beautiful....isn’t he?”

“Yes,” Nikita replied, her eyes locked on Michael as she spoke. He looked like an angel....a dark angel, his hair a halo of cinnamon curls about his face. Nikita noted that he was wearing a black, silk shirt, no jacket, and it was unbuttoned halfway down his chest, exposing smooth skin over hard muscle.

“Kiss him,” Jurgen whispered against Nikita’s lips. Then he watched as she pulled away from him to cross the room. Jurgen smiled and followed, moving to step behind Michael.

Michael had eyes only for Nikita, but when she stood before him and pressed her mouth to his, he took a step back, only to come up hard against another body. Jurgen. Michael cringed as he felt Jurgen’s lips press against his ear.

“My rules, Michael,” Jurgen breathed. “Or I will destroy her.”

“Nikita....” Michael spoke her name, softly, reverently. He locked eyes with her, wanting Nikita to see his pain and his fear, and to remember how it had been between them. How precious their love had been. What Jurgen wanted was dark and destructive. Michael wanted to shout at Nikita to run, but remained silent. Neither of them could escape Jurgen’s reach.

Nikita lifted her hands to cup Michael’s face between her palms. She bent her head to lick at his lips, and then she moaned as she slipped her tongue into his mouth, tasting his hot sweetness.

Jurgen felt Michael stiffen and knew that he was lost in the essence of his desire for Nikita. So Jurgen took the opportunity to take what he wanted. He lifted the soft hair off the nape of Michael’s neck and pressed his lips to the soft, sensitive skin. All the while he pressed his own arousal against Michael’s hard buttocks.

“No....” Michael breathed into Nikita’s mouth. He had been lost in her kiss, in the taste and the scent of her, but now he stiffened and pulled back, when he felt Jurgen’s caresses. His passion for Nikita was doused by Jurgen’s touch on his flesh.

“Then Nikita is mine,” Jurgen hissed in Michael’s ear.

Nikita didn’t hear Jurgen; she knew only that Michael had pushed her away. Tears glimmered in her eyes, and she turned to go.

Michael reached for her, pulling her into his arms. His lips kissed her hair, then her ear, then her face......gliding over smooth skin till they found her mouth, then he devoured her. “Michael....” Nikita moaned, as she felt cool air brush her skin. Nikita opened her eyes, only to discover that Michael was otherwise engaged. She watched as Jurgen kissed Michael. Nikita moved forward, hands reaching to shove Jurgen off of Michael.

Jurgen wasn’t about to let Michael go. As he had said, it was just the beginning. He had so much more to show the other man. So much more to teach him. But first things first. “You can go now, Nikita,” Jurgen hissed, his eyes flashing at the beautiful blond.

Nikita was stunned. “What did you say?” she countered, she suddenly felt far too exposed and vulnerable.

“You heard me,” Jurgen drawled, a smile curving his lips. “I want you to go now. Michael doesn’t need you any longer, and I don’t want you.”

“Nikita....” Michael began, for he saw pain glimmering in her beautiful eyes and he wanted her to know that Jurgen’s words were a lie. He did need her.

Shaking her head, Nikita stepped away from Michael and Jurgen. She blinked back tears as she watched Jurgen’s free hand glide over Michael’s chest. What she had found so exciting a moment before now sickened her. Nikita turned and ran, slamming the door shut behind her.

Jurgen laughed in Michael’s ear, once they were alone. “You don’t need her,” Jurgen whispered in Michael’s ear.

“I do need her,” Michael hissed.

“I’m all you need, Michael,” Jurgen said softly, and then he let his lips nibble a path to Michael’s broad shoulder. But Jurgen wanted it to be different. Not lust, but love. For he truly did love Michael. Had loved him since the beginning. And now he would show that love, and teach Michael how to love him in return. Jurgen knew that he was the only one who could heal Michael’s wounded soul.

Michael sighed with relief when Jurgen’s hand released him. Now he felt less vulnerable. More in control. Michael moved towards the stairs. He needed to go after Nikita. To explain to her what Jurgen was doing. How he was testing him and punishing her.

Jurgen moved to block Michael. His eyes locked with silver-green. “If you leave,” Jurgen purred, “Then I will win.”

“What do you want from me?” Michael whispered. He felt lost and afraid. Uncertain. Feelings that he was unfamiliar with for he had buried them deep, long ago.

“I want you to know the truth, Michael,” Jurgen replied. He took a step closer and one hand lifted so that his fingertips traced the curve of Michael’s sensual lips. “I want you to feel the truth.”

Michael pulled away from Jurgen’s touch and hissed, “Whose truth?”

Jurgen reached out again, his fingers tangling in Michael’s hair, holding him still. “There’s only one truth,” he said softly. “You know it, Michael. But you’re afraid. Afraid to accept it, afraid that you’ll be hurt again. But I will never hurt you.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Michael protested. He pressed a hand against Jurgen’s chest when the other man tried to move closer. But his hand was pushed aside and Michael found soft lips brushing his. He caught his breath and froze.

“You want to feel passion without pain,” Jurgen breathed into Michael’s mouth. Then he let his tongue flicker against the warm lips and he felt Michael shudder. It was a beginning.

Nikita hadn’t run far. In fact, she stopped just a few feet outside the door then had pressed her back against the corridor wall. She slid down to the floor, buried her face in her hands, and sobbed for a few minutes. Then she wiped her eyes and rose to her feet. Damn Jurgen, Nikita cursed silently. She wouldn’t let him win. Michael belonged to her. Wanted her. They belonged together. With that thought in mind, Nikita slipped back into the room. She crept down the stairs then froze at the sight before her.

Michael was stunned by the gentleness of Jurgen’s kiss. He felt himself responding and it frightened him. Yet he didn’t pull away. He just remained frozen. When Jurgen’s tongue slipped into his mouth, Michael started to pull away. Jurgen let him, so Michael froze again.

“I want to please you, Michael,” Jurgen whispered. One hand was still buried in the soft, cinnamon-colored curls, but Jurgen’s free hand lifted to caress the sculptured cheek bones. Michael was heartbreakingly beautiful. “I want to make you feel good.” These words were whispered against the sensual lips. Once again Jurgen slipped his tongue into Michael’s mouth and this time there was no resistance. So he took a step forward as he deepened the kiss and slipped one arm around Michael’s slender waist, pressing their bodies together.

“No....”Michael whispered, as he broke the kiss. “I don’t want this....”

Michael protested. But it sounded weak, even to his own ears.

Jurgen kissed Michael again, his tongue tracing the outline of the soft lips then plunging into the hot mouth. He felt Michael stiffen and he backed off again. Only to smile, for he heard Michael’s soft moan of protest. Jurgen knew that the young man was unaware of his own response. So Jurgen simply waited, letting Michael make the next move.

Michael felt more confused than ever. He locked eyes with Jurgen, but saw nothing in the pale gaze but warm desire and love. But he didn’t want that from Jurgen. Michael own passion was Nikita. She was his heart and soul. Yet she was also his pain. And he was tired of hurting. For once, Michael wanted to feel pleasure without the pain. But he didn’t know how to ask for it. Hot tears filled his eyes and he blinked them back. “Please....” Michael whispered, not really knowing why.

But Jurgen knew. And he also knew that Nikita was watching as he cupped Michael’s face between both hands. Jurgen kissed the tears from the other man’s face, then took Michael’s hand and led him over to the bed. “I can take away your pain,” he whispered, as he pushed Michael down onto the mattress.

“No....” Michael protested, even as lay back against the pillows. He watched as Jurgen sat down beside him, and then swallowed hard as one of Jurgen’s hands glided down over his flat stomach.

“I know your pain,” Jurgen whispered. He bent his head to kiss the hard ridges of Michael’s abdomen then his fingers went to the buttons of Michael’s pants.

Michael grabbed Jurgen’s wrists. He wanted to protest, but the words wouldn’t come out. He wanted the pain to stop. What he did next was a surprise to both men. Michael cupped one hand around the back of Jurgen’s head then pulled him down on top of him. Then he claimed a kiss.

Nikita swallowed back a cry of agony. For the moment that Michael kissed Jurgen, she knew she had lost him.

As Michael pulled him down, Jurgen felt a flash of pleased surprise, replaced by a rush of desire as Michael’s lips pressed against his own. The kiss was hesitant, almost shy, a brief taste and then Michael drew back, gray eyes confused. Slowly Jurgen lowered his head to Michael’s, allowing him to make the choice to turn away if he wished, but the other man’s lips parted before his, granting his tongue entrance, fingers threading through Jurgen’s hair.

All too soon, it was over. And Jurgen rolled onto his side, holding Michael against him and stroking his hair as the younger man slid into sleep.

Arms enfolded him, drawing a sleepy murmur of pleasure from him Michael opened bleary eyes, wondering if this was a dream, and he slumped against Jurgen for a moment before slowly extricating himself and leaving the bed.

Propping himself up on one elbow, Jurgen watched as Michael padded naked through the room, searching for his clothing. Underwear and pants went on first, the shirt last, and as he stood with his back to Jurgen, buttoning his shirt, Jurgen said, “You enjoyed yourself last night—admit that.”

Michael flushed and lowered head to study the buttons of his shirt. “Last night....was a mistake.”

“And what about this morning?” Slowly Jurgen rose from the bed and went to lay a hand on Michael’s shoulder, feeling him tense under his hand.

If possible Michael was even more confused today than he had been last night. He had never willingly been with another man before....and for that man to be Jurgen—and yet....he could not say that he hadn’t enjoyed it even a little. The chance to let loose, to feel pleasure without pain, to be with someone that did not judge him and find him wanting....

“Michael.” Jurgen drew him around, the stern expression softening at the turmoil he saw in Michael’s eyes. “I can be good for you. I can heal you. I can do so many things for you that Nikita never could....”

A stab of pain at the thought of Nikita, of the night before and what she had to perceive to be his rejection of her....and with that thought came another, echoing Jurgen, that they had only ever caused each other pain.

“I can love you in a way she never can. Unconditionally.”

Meeting the other man’s gaze, Michael felt the pull of his eyes even as a hand caressed his cheek, wanted to let Jurgen in as he’d never let Nikita in—he shook his head a little, trying to banish the thought, and said haltingly, “I....have to think about it.” Too much to process, he needed a shower and his own bed, time to regroup his scattered defenses and think this through.

“Do that.” said Jurgen softly and kissed him gently, chuckling inwardly as he felt Michael lean into the kiss. He was halfway there....just a little more manipulation and Michael would be his.

Michael knocked on Nikita’s door. She opened it, locked eyes with him for a heartbeat, and then stepped back to let him enter. Michael did so, without saying a word. Waiting for the door to shut behind him, his eyes never leaving Nikita. When she moved to stand before him he whispered, “I’m sorry.”

“So am I,” Nikita replied. She folded her arms across her chest in a defensive posture. “One question, Michael,” Nikita beseeched. “Do you love Jurgen?”

“No,” Michael replied, without hesitation. And he believed his answer to be the truth. It had to be, because he loved Nikita.

She closed her eyes against hot tears, wanting to believe him, but she didn’t. “I saw you, Michael,” Nikita hissed. “I saw you make love to Jurgen.”

Michael was stunned. Nikita’s words hit him with the force of a sledgehammer. “What are you talking about?” he countered, eyes locked on her face.

“I came back,” Nikita replied. “After Jurgen sent me away. I came back and saw you kiss him. And I watched as you let him make love to you. You wanted him, Michael. You can’t deny it.”

“I wanted the pain to stop,” Michael confessed. “All we ever seem to do is to hurt each other, Nikita. With the pleasure there is always pain.”

She nodded. “It doesn’t have to be that way,” Nikita whispered.

Michael sighed. “I’m not so sure,” he replied, and it was a hard admission to make. Stepping over to Nikita, Michael pressed one palm to her face. “I love you…unconditionally...” he said softly. “Can you say the same?”

“Michael....” Nikita stopped and dropped her eyes. They both knew that she couldn’t.

“I can’t be the man you want me to be, Nikita,” Michael declared, tapping his fingertips beneath her chin so that she was forced to look at him. “I wish I could be. I want to be the one to make you happy. I want that more than anything.”

Nikita saw pain shimmering in Michael’s eyes and it broke her heart. “I do love you,” she declared, but she knew it wasn’t enough. They both did. Blinking back tears, Nikita challenged, “So....what happens now, Michael? Is it over between us?”

He closed his eyes, and then shrugged. “I will always love you, Nikita,” Michael whispered. “But you’re the only one who can decide if that’s enough.”

“It is....for now,” Nikita replied. Then she tangled her fingers in Michael’s soft hair and claimed a kiss.

Just then, Michael’s cell phone rang. He grabbed Nikita’s hands and stepped back. Section came first. She knew that. Michael answered the phone. It was Jurgen, calling him in. “I have to go,” Michael said, turning back to Nikita as he pocketed the phone.

She nodded. “Do you need me?” Nikita queried, a hopeful smile curving her lips. She meant at Section, but there was a double entendre in her words.

“Always,” Michael whispered, all they while knowing that his confession was as much a weakness as it was a strength. But then he kissed her and shook his head. “It’s just me,” he said, in answer to her actual question. “I’ll try to come back,” Michael said, as he headed for the door.

“I’ll be waiting,” Nikita replied. A moment later Michael was gone and she was alone. And she had never been so lonely in all her life.

The call in had been legitimate. Once Michael reached Section, he was met by Operations and sent out with Birkhoff on an emergency mission. They didn’t return until dawn the next day. Michael was exhausted. He debriefed with Operations, and then headed for his rooms, within Section. Heading home was not an option. Michael jumped into the shower, letting the hot spray ease the weariness from his bones. He was coming close to drowning himself when he finally stepped out and dried off, more or less. His skin was still damp when he slid beneath the covers of his bed. A moment later he was asleep.

But Michael’s slumber was restless. In spite of his exhaustion, he dreamed. But it was more emotional than visual. Sensation washing over him. He felt silky hair between his fingers, and the scent of Nikita was strong in his nostrils. Then her soft skin was warm against his, they moved together as one and reached a shattering climax. But the dreams had just begun.

Michael felt rough hands caressing him, and dry lips pressed against his skin. He then felt those same lips closing over him, suckling him to orgasm. He floated down from paradise to find himself held in strong arms. Michael moaned and tried to pull away. He didn’t want this. He loved Nikita.

....Nikita is your pain....

A soft voice whispered in Michael’s ear. He cried out in denial, but laughter echoed in his mind. A hard body thrust against him, pushed up deep inside him. He should have felt pain, but there was only pleasure. “I love Nikita!” Michael shouted.

“NIKITA!” Michael cried out her name as he bolted upright in bed. The sheet fell to his waist and he felt his heart pounding in his chest. Michael’s skin was sheened with sweat and his breathing was labored. His dreams had felt so real. Too real. Michael glanced over at the clock. Only two hours had passed, but he knew that he wouldn’t be able to fall back asleep. So he slid out of bed and back into the shower. A cool one, this time. And the image that filled Michael’s head as he stood beneath the spray of water was that of Jurgen.

“We’re going out,” Jurgen announced, as he entered Michael’s office without knocking.

Michael looked up from his monitor to glare at the other man. “Out where?” he countered, thinking that Jurgen was referring to Section business.

Jurgen grinned. “Out to dinner,” he clarified. “I know a place you’re going to love.”

“No,” Michael hissed. “I have plans.”

“Change them,” Jurgen drawled. He could guess that Michael’s plans had to do with Nikita.

Michael shook his head. “No,” he repeated.

Jurgen moved to confront him, grasping the arms of Michael’s chair and swinging the young man around to face him. “Chose, Michael,” he whispered.

“Dinner with me tonight....or I send Nikita to the substation in Luxemburg.”

“You can’t do that,” Michael shot back, hoping that he was right.

“But I can,” Jurgen whispered. “Choose.”

Michael closed his eyes and replied, “Dinner.” He knew that Nikita would be hurt when he stood her up, but Michael was determined to make it up to her. After Jurgen finished playing his little game. “What time?” he asked, accepting his fate.

Jurgen pulled Michael to his feet. “Right now,” he drawled. “No time like the present.”

“Fine,” Michael hissed. He pulled his arm free then switched off his computer. “Let’s get this over with.” And, so saying, he glided past Jurgen and out the door.

************

Dinner was at a small, cozy Italian restaurant, the lighting turned low and candles placed at each table and soft music combining to add to the romantic atmosphere. It was the kind of place that one took a lover, Michael realized as they were led to their table and flushed at that sudden knowledge, seriously considering turning around and walking out of there. Jurgen raised an eyebrow at him, no doubt sensing his irritation, a mocking light in his eyes, daring him to walk away, and Michael sat down, shaking out his napkin almost angrily and folding it over his lap.

Jurgen ordered for them—fettuccini Alfredo for Michael and chicken parmigiana for himself—and sat back as the waiter departed to fetch wine for both of them. “Like the place?” he asked archly.

“Does it matter?” returned Michael woodenly.

Jurgen shrugged as he waited for the waiter to set down their glasses of wine, lifting his to take a small sip. “I thought it would be....pleasing to you.”

“You don’t know what pleases me.” said Michael coolly.

Jurgen smiled, one finger stroking the rim of his glass. “Don’t I?” he drawled.

Michael flushed and looked away, anywhere but at Jurgen’s mocking eyes, knowing that what the other man said was true. And his flush deepened as he remembered his dreams of Nikita and then Jurgen.

Chuckling at Michael’s obvious discomfort, Jurgen remained quiet until the food had arrived, devoting his attention to his food, his appetite good. Glancing across the table he saw Michael picking at his plate, winding fettuccini around his fork and lifting it to his mouth, one dangling noodle leaving a trail of sauce down his chin. With a finger he wiped it away and started to bring his finger to his mouth to clean it.

Reaching across the table Jurgen caught his wrist and leaned forward as he pulled Michael’s arm across the table, tongue gliding over his finger before he took it into his mouth to suck it clean. Jurgen’s fingers tightened around Michael’s wrist as he tried to pull his hand back and rather than struggle with him, causing a scene, Michael forced himself to not resist. With one last flick, Jurgen released his hand, grinning at the cold look Michael gave him, and returned to his dinner.

They finished the meal in silence, Jurgen content to leave Michael alone for he was already contemplating the after-dinner entertainment. Paying the bill he rose from his chair and reached for Michael’s jacket, prepared to help him put it on and tease him a little more but Michael snatched it up before Jurgen could reach it and tugged it on. Once outside Michael closed his eyes and lifted his face to the cool air, drawing in a deep breath, turned his head as he heard Jurgen behind him.

“Are we done?” he asked coldly.

“Not quite.” said Jurgen airily, reaching out to smooth down the collar of

Michael’s jacket. “My place for drinks.”

“Dinner was the agreement....nothing more.” said Michael stiffly.

Jurgen smiled. “I change the agreement as it suits me. And it suits me to have you come to my place for drinks.” He shrugged lazily. “Of course, if you don’t want to....” Trailed off, the implied threat all too obvious.

Jaw tightening Michael followed Jurgen to his car.

**********

Throwing the light switch as they entered his house, Jurgen motioned to the couch, slipping out of his coat. “Have a seat.” Removing his own coat Michael set it down on the arm of the couch and sank down, hands folded in his lap and back rigid. He flinched as Jurgen’s hands gripped his shoulders from behind, half rising only have to Jurgen press him back down.

“Sit.” ordered Jurgen and began to knead gently at Michael’s shoulders, fingers expertly working out the knots. “Just relax....you’re so tense.”

Michael sat still as Jurgen massaged his shoulders, trying not to relax into those capable hands, but the tension drained away as Jurgen worked his magic. Fingers moved up his shoulders and then under the collar of his shirt to touch bare skin, one hand moving to unbutton his shirt and slide it off his shoulders. Swinging a leg over the couch, Jurgen sank down beside Michael and tugged his shirt open, hands gripping his shoulders as he leaned forward to kiss him, using his weight to ease him down onto the couch.

Drowsy from the massage and lack of sleep, Michael was slow to react, trying to draw back even as Jurgen’s mouth claimed his.

The ringing of the phone broke the spell, Jurgen lifting his head and muttering a curse before releasing Michael to answer the phone. Sitting up Michael drew himself together with shaky hands, listening as Jurgen spoke tersely into the phone. “Yes.” A pause and then he glanced at Michael, expression amused. “He’s with me. Ten minutes.” And hung up the phone, turning to face Michael. “We’ve been called in.”

Grabbing his coat Michael pulled it on and went to the door, shrugging off Jurgen’s hand before going outside. Sighing and glancing over at the phone with a dark look, Jurgen followed him out.

The mission briefing was short; the target was a splinter group of the Red Army, in possession of a shipment of Stinger missiles, and the objective was to recover the missiles if possible, destroy them if not. Simple and seemingly straight-forward....if not for the fact that the warehouse was the group’s base and it would be guarded.

A team of six—including Michael and Jurgen—made the entry, working their way through the warehouse and to the back, where intel said the missiles had been stored. Michael was to locate the missiles and determine whether or not they could be recovered, place the charges if necessary, while the others kept an eye on the ware- house. Over the comm-link Jurgen heard little of it, crouched in the shadows of a staircase and keeping an eye on the area.

“Placing charges. Everyone out.” came Michael’s voice over the link and Jurgen waited for the others to fade back before he headed out of the warehouse and to the waiting van, concealed behind an old shed. At the van he counted four team members and ducked his head out of the van to scan the road for Michael, seeing no sign of him. Muttering a curse he went to Birkhoff, hunched over his computer, and said, “Give me a status on the charges.”

“Activated....two minutes on the clock.”

Tapping his comm-link, Jurgen spoke into it. “Michael, give me your position.”

No response, just a faint whisper of sound, and he repeated. “Your position, Michael!” Silence greeted him and Jurgen turned to Birkhoff. “How much time?”

“One minute, thirty-five seconds.” Birkhoff tapped key, eyes scanning the screen as a schematic of the warehouse came up, a single red dot on the screen. “There he is....about five hundred feet from the missiles.”

Nodding Jurgen jumped out of the van and raced back into the warehouse, working his way to where Michael would be. And came upon him sprawled out on the floor, a dead man in khaki at his feet and another terrorist standing over him, gun aimed at his head, booted foot placed on the wrist that held his gun and holding it to the floor. Jurgen shot the man in the back of the head, the silencer muffling the shot, and then bent to grasp Michael by the vest, pulling him up to a sitting position and holding him upright with one hand.

“On your feet.” he ordered.

Michael gave a weak shake of his head. “Leave me....” And slumped, head falling backward, only Jurgen’s grip on his vest keeping him from falling back onto the floor.

With a grunt of effort, Jurgen slung him over one shoulder and moved quickly out of the warehouse, barely reaching the shelter of the van before the charges went off.

Laying Michael out on the floor, Jurgen grabbed a med pack and tugged open Michael’s vest, a chill going through him as he saw where torn, bloodied shirt clung to ribs. Taking a gauze pad he slipped a hand under Michael’s shirt and pressed it against the wound, the painful pressure drawing Michael up out of unconsciousness, back arching and a spasm of coughing that brought blood up to his lips shaking his frame.

Slipping an arm behind his back Jurgen raised him up so that he wouldn’t choke on blood, feeling blood flow over his fingers as he tried to stem the bleeding. “Stay with me, Michael.” he whispered, a hitch in his voice, and turned to call over his shoulder, “Take us to the nearest base—we got a man down and needing immediate medical attention.”

Assent from the driver and Jurgen barely heard him, concentrating on Michael.

Don’t die on me, he thought and closed his eyes tightly.

Initial care was given at the London base and once he could be lifted out, Michael was sent on to the Section’s HQ where he could be given better care. Still in critical condition as he was brought in and Jurgen remained with him, emerging only long enough to debrief and receive confirmation that the missiles had been destroyed. And was informed by Madeline that Nikita was out on a mission, out of contact until her mission was concluded....which left him as the only one to sit at Michael’s bedside.

For two days Jurgen sat at his bedside, holding his hand and waiting for some sign that he was going to awaken, venturing out only long enough to attend to personal business and choke down some food. As he sat holding Michael’s limp hand in his, gazing at his too-pale features, all Jurgen could think of was the events of the last week, how he’d pushed and pushed Michael, trying to pull him close and driving him away at the same time. Sighing wearily he reached over to brush hair back from Michael’s eyes and went still as his eyelids fluttered, head moving slightly on the pillow as eyes opened to focus on Jurgen.

A spasm of pain crossed his features and he tugged weakly at his hand but Jurgen wouldn’t release him, rising from his chair to lay a hand on his shoulder when he started to rise. “Lie still.” he chided.

Swallowing hard, Michael subsided, gray eyes dark with pain and exhaustion as he turned his head again to meet Jurgen’s eyes. “Why?” he whispered painfully.

Jurgen squeezed his hand and said softly, “You know why.”

Michael gave a slight shake of his head, tears of weariness in his eyes.

“Why can’t you leave me be?” he pleaded, voice breaking.

“Because I love you.” responded Jurgen, laying a hand on his cheek. “And because you need me....whether you accept it or not.” Tenderly he leaned forward to kiss Michael on the forehead, squeezing his hand. “And I’ll stand by you, no matter what happens.”

Nikita stood outside of the door leading to Michael’s room, watching through the window Jurgen standing over Michael’s bed, Michael’s hand held in his, leaning over to kiss Michael, stroking his hand. Her own hands knotted into fists as she stared at Jurgen, wanting nothing more than to go in there and push him away from Michael, but instead she turned and walked away.

As Michael recovered, Jurgen spent more time away from him. Not because he wanted to, but because Section had need of him. It was during one of those times that Nikita snuck into MedLab to see Michael.

She stood in the doorway, simply watching him, till she saw his head stir on the pillow. When he opened his eyes and looked at her, that’s when Nikita went over to the bed. “How are you feeling?” she asked, one hand reaching out to smooth a cinnamon curl off his forehead.

“I’m fine,” Michael replied, his standard answer. But he wasn’t fine. He was confused. “I didn’t think you would come here,” he whispered. Michael had been asking about Nikita, discreetly. Walter had informed him that she had been back for the past three days. That she hadn’t wanted to see him had hurt.

“I wasn’t sure I should come,” Nikita replied, trying to hide the pain she was feeling. “I wasn’t sure you’d want to see me.”

Michael frowned. “Why would you think that?” he queried.

Nikita shrugged. “Well....you have Jurgen now.”

“NO!” Michael hissed the word, even as he pushed himself upright. He felt Nikita’s hand against his chest, attempting to keep him down, but Michael grasped it and brought it to his lips. “Jurgen wants to own me, Nikita,” Michael whispered, even as his mouth pressed a kiss to her palm. “But he doesn’t own me. You’re the one I love.” And Michael believed he spoke the truth, for he did love Nikita. Had from the first moment he had laid eyes on her.

“I want to believe that, Michael,” Nikita replied, curling her fingers into a fist as if to capture his kiss. Then she used her free hand to press to Michael’s cheek. “But I’ve seen you with Jurgen. Watched him make love to you. Watched him keep vigil over you. He loves you, Michael.”