Okay. This was my first attempt at NC-17 fic. for LFN (and only my 2nd attempt at NC-17, overall). So, to use the lingo, please be gentle. If you're a minor and you read this anyway, as well, I take no responsibility.

The following story takes place after "Treason" but before an unaired, short (i.e. noncanonical) mission before "Escape." It includes a spoiler for "Escape," as well.

I'm using part of Meredith Brooks's song, "What Would Happen," here. It's not mine, and I mean no infringement by using it.

No infringement of any sort is intended with the following. Please send any comments to: gilbertklfn@cs.com.

Enough blithering. On with the story.

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

The night was quiet. Nikita was waiting, her apartment filled with an air of expectancy. Finally, the knock came.

Nikita--dressed in an attractive, if plain, blouse and skirt, her hair held back from her face with a barette--answered the door to find Michael, dressed in his usual all-black attire--a leather jacket covering him. "What do you want?" Nikita asked challengingly.

Michael's eyes ran down her body before coming back to focus intensely on her eyes. He walked in without invitation, making her take a few steps backward, shutting the door behind him. "You," he replied finally, pulling her toward him softly by her hips. He then kissed her deeply, intoxicatingly.

Nikita ran her hands up Michael's back, leaving one on his shoulder, tangling the other in his hair, holding him in the kiss, which she returned with full force.

They stayed that way for about a minute, before Nikita pulled back and looked at him defiantly. "You were due here an hour ago."

"I got tied up," Michael replied.

"Now, there's an interesting thought," Nikita said, just to see his reaction.

Michael realized she was teasing and smiled seductively in return.

Nikita removed Michael's hands from her hips and then turned, crossing the living room. "You know, Michael, I'm not sure I should. I mean, you did keep me waiting for an hour."

"Do you want me to go?" he asked.

She turned her head more toward his voice but kept her back to him, not looking at him. "I didn't say that."

Michael took a few steps toward her. "What do you want?" he asked in a soft voice, which made her shudder slightly--pleasantly.

"You could convince me," she returned.

Michael smiled playfully to himself and walked toward her. He took the barrette out of her hair and put it in his pocket, letting her hair fall freely around her. He then slowly pulled back the golden strands to reveal the side of her neck and reached around her with one arm, placing his hand on her abdomen; with his other hand, he stroked the other side of her neck. He pulled her close. His mouth was near her ear; she could feel the heat of his breath on her neck. She closed her eyes and leaned back against him.

Michael ran the tip of his tongue lightly down the side of her neck. His hand left the other side of her neck and went slowly down to undo the top few buttons on her blouse, slipping it off her shoulder. His tongue ran down to trace the now-exposed skin there. He kissed her shoulder and then began to nibble lightly at the flesh at the base of her neck, near her collar bone, while his hand began to lightly trace her breasts through the fabric of her blouse.

Nikita, with no bra insulating her from the fabric, sighed slightly at the feel of his hand--so close, yet not quite in contact. She placed her hand over the fingers of his other hand, as it traced a line very lightly around her stomach, where he had pulled the blouse out--again, just touching her skin.

Michael moved his lips back up her neck to the side of her throat, running his tongue lightly there. Nikita moved her hand back to pull him closer to her, grabbing him from behind. Michael smiled into her neck; she could feel his arousal.

Nikita turned to him and looked into his eyes with playful challenge. She pushed back his jacket and let it fall to the floor. She ran her hands up his chest and then began to unbutton his shirt. He moved a hand to help her, and she slapped it lightly away and leaned in to gently bite the side of his neck, still unbuttoning his shirt. "Do you think I can handle a few buttons on my own?" she asked into his neck, moving up to kiss the underside of his throat.

Michael sighed. "You can do whatever you want," he agreed.

She removed his shirt and lightly bit the other side of his neck, near his jaw. "I know."

Michael shuddered very slightly.

She looked back up at him and smiled devilishly before putting her hands on both sides of his head and pulling him into a deep kiss. He responded thankfully, playing with her tongue.

After a minute or so, Nikita pulled back and gave him one more hard kiss, before beginning to roam down his neck with her tongue, stopping to bite lightly at the tender flesh near the base of his neck, before continuing down to lightly brush a nipple with her tongue. Michael closed his eyes and leaned his head back. He ran his hands up to tangle in her hair, holding her lightly to him, as her tongue and teeth teased the delicate area. Then, as she proceeded to give his other nipple the same attention, she moved her hands down to undo his pants, pushing them down his legs. Michael managed to remove his shoes and socks with his feet--rather desperately-- and then stepped out of the pants, trying all the while not to pull away from her.

Nikita's mouth ran back up to Michael's neck and throat, while her hand reached inside the only garment he had left to stroke him. Michael moaned, growing increasingly desperate for her.

When she had removed the last, offending garment and moved her mouth back up his cheek to his mouth, holding him to her from behind --his arousal pressing into her, he took her mouth passionately. When she looked back into his eyes, she saw an almost-fierce desire and smiled. "You were going to convince me of something?" she asked cheerfully.

Michael responded to the challenge by pulling her into another passionate kiss. He then began to run small, delicate bites down her neck and ran his tongue down her breastbone. He moved back her shirt to reveal a taut breast, waiting for his lips. He breathed his hot breath on it, almost touching it, before stopping and looking back up at her. She looked at him as though he were insane for stopping, but he just smiled. Then, he lifted her by the small of her back, carrying her over to a wall and placing her gently against it. Still holding her up slightly, he lowered his mouth back down to her breast, taking it in his mouth and then pulling away until only his lips lightly held her nipple. Nikita managed to free her legs from her skirt enough to wrap them around his waist, as he held her aloft --hands on her back. She had her hands in his hair, trying to hold him closer.

Michael responded to her unspoken request by running his teeth lightly over her nipple, causing her to groan deeply. "Oh, Michael, more," she begged. He obliged, suckling one nipple, then the other. Nikita sighed and groaned.

Michael then moved further down to her stomach, before unhooking her legs from him and lowering her back to her feet. Nikita looked at him, desire blocking all clarity. She removed her blouse completely and then her underwear, leaving her skirt on. She took Michael's hands, eyes still locked with his, and ran them up her legs, under her skirt. Michael leaned down again to suckle one of her breasts while tracing patterns on her skin from behind. Nikita closed her eyes.

Michael ran his mouth back up to her neck, while moving his hands to remove her skirt. Finally free of all barriers, Michael moved down Nikita's body, running his tongue down past her stomach to tease the sensitive flesh between her legs with his tongue. Nikita moaned.

After a few minutes, Michael moved on to taste her deeply, searching her with his tongue. Nikita could barely stand. Michael left his hands on her waist to steady her. Nikita ran her fingernails over the wall behind her, clawing it with pleasure.

After ages of arousal, Michael moved back up her body, savouring her as he went. He arrived back at her lips, and Nikita took his in a bit at a time, teasing them. He kissed her deeply and then looked at her.

"Now, Michael," Nikita half-begged, half-demanded.

Michael smiled and kissed her deeply again, wrapping his arms around her to lift her slightly, hands flat on her back. Then, he positioned his hips beneath hers and entered her slowly, watching her face, as Nikita's legs wrapped around him. "Yes," he heard her moan.

Nikita arched her back, pressing down onto him, forcing him further inside her. She held onto his shoulders, moaning.

Michael leaned his head down to suckle at her breast again, strokes deepening. "Oh, yes, . . . yes," Nikita moaned. She put a hand on the back of his head, asking for more; he obliged.

Nikita and Michael rode like that for quite some time, before Nikita began to beg for more. Michael began slightly biting the side of her neck, strokes becoming more insistent.

Nikita's hands were claws on Michael's back, as she moaned, lost in rhythm. "Oh yes . . . please," she begged. She leaned down to bite the side of his neck, causing Michael to thrust strongly within her. "Oh, more," she pleaded. "More."

Their coupling became wild, almost frantic, each desperate for more of the other than it was possible to get. With a groan, Michael spun Nikita around, away from the wall, and moved them over to the couch. They landed with a heavy thud but were too lost in passion to notice.

Nikita's legs were still wrapped around Michael, holding him in her, forcing him deeper. "More," she demanded. "More," and she half-groaned and half-screamed when Michael responded.

Michael closed his eyes and ran his hands down to her hips to pull himself yet further into her.

Nikita's nails were scraping down Michael's back. "Yes!" she screamed.

Michael kissed her frenziedly and then, breathing heavily, began to nibble again at her neck and throat.

Nikita ran her hands down and grabbed Michael, pulling him into her sharply, groaning incoherently.

Everything moved into slow motion, their moves working in deep unison. After a few more strokes, Nikita began to cry out wordlessly, her head thrown back into the sofa. A few strokes later, Michael paused, holding himself deep within her, shuddering slightly--release just moments away. "`Kita," he whispered.

They kissed each other, hard, then held their faces close together, eyes closed; Michael, so close to fulfillment, sank down a second later, his face by her cheek. Then, they held each other feverishly, as they came, with several more deep strokes and groans.

For a few minutes after, they just lay there, holding each other. Michael raised his head and looked at her, eyes full of emotion. He kissed her.

The phone rang.

Nikita opened her eyes to find herself in bed, dressed in her nightgown, alone. The only constants between her dream and reality were the phone and that she was in a sweat. She swore quietly and got out of bed to answer it.

"Josephine?" a far-too-familiar voice said.

"Yeah?" Nikita replied, annoyed.

"One hour," Michael instructed.

"Yeah, right," Nikita muttered and hung up.

She turned and stalked over to her stereo, hitting it to turn on the radio. As it started, she pulled off her nightgown and turned to walk up the stairs. The radio played:

What would happen if we kissed?

Would your tongue slip past my lips?

Would you turn away?

Would you stay?

Or would I slip into you?

Nikita practically jumped back down the stairs, half-naked, and thumped her stereo to turn it off. She shook her head. "This is going to be a really crappy day," she muttered and moved off to get dressed.

Meanwhile, at Section headquarters, Michael had hung up the phone but was still staring at it. Nikita was distant, and none of the last few missions had helped that. Now, he had to hurt her again to save her life. She would never believe him if he told her the truth about Eric's plans; he had damaged the trust between them too much. Soon, in order to save her, he would have to destroy that trust altogether. It was the sort of fallacy which passed for logic in Section. He shook his head and looked back over his reports before the briefing.

[The End]

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