His eyes blazed with love and desire, as he broke the kiss to look at her. His arousal throbbed almost painfully, taunting her depths. "I need you, my beautiful one." His hand stroked her face. "I need you now."

She shook her head, eyes pleading. Her hands roamed over him. "Michael . . . let me touch you. . . . Please."

He took one of her hands and led her to his thickened arousal. Her hand closed over the throbbing shaft, and his already shaky breathing went completely erratic. He took back her hand and held it in his, his other stroking her face.

He kissed her before looking at her again. His eyes were wet and seemed to shine so brightly with love and need that it bordered on madness. "Please, Ni-ki-ta." His voice was almost broken with passion. "I need you," he whispered.

God, she wanted to touch him, to taste his beautiful shaft--to hold it in her mouth. She needed even more, though, to feel him deep inside her. Besides, she couldn't deny his plea.

She loosed her hand from his and held his face in both of hers, pulling him to her for a deep, slow kiss. She pulled back from it for half a second to look at him, while her hands roamed down to his hips. "Yes," she whispered before kissing him again.

Michael moaned through the kiss in desire. His hands ran down to her smooth thighs, parting them further. He danced his arousal teasingly against her before running his hands back behind her.

He moaned, as his tip was taken in by her. He pulled her up to him and slowly began to sink each throbbing inch into her tight, warm depths. Nikita moaned and broke the kiss. She knew this was the pace he needed for now, but she was half-insane with the need to feel him completely in her--his beautiful, throbbing shaft being caressed deep inside her depths. "Please," she begged. Her hands were on his hips, as she tried to restrain herself from pulling him into her in one hard, deep thrust.

He gave her a tender look but one which begged for indulgence. He captured her mouth again, softly ravaging the depths there to try to give her some temporary relief.

Her hands grabbed at his shoulders, and she moaned, as he continued his slow, sensuous entry.

When he was almost completely inside her, he pulled back for a second.

Nikita broke the kiss to cry out. "No!" A second later, though, he had stroked deep inside her, entering her completely.

She held his cheek to hers, her breathing labored. "Yes," she whimpered in a tiny voice.

He untangled her from around him and gave her a deep, soft, lingering kiss. His hands held her hips. He pulled back finally and looked at her. "I love you."

Her heart overflowed with her love for this tender, beautiful man. "Michael." She touched his face, eyes wide.

He smiled at her and began stroking into her. She closed her eyes. Every stroke filled her completely, touched her soul more intimately than there were words for.

He watched her happily and allowed her legs to wrap tightly around him. He began kissing her temple. "If you only knew," he whispered between kisses around her face, "how beautiful you feel."

He kissed her again, and she looked up at him, eyes full of love. "Heaven will never feel this good." He smiled beautifully.

Oh God, she needed him--needed to feel his soul singing in her. "Hold me, Michael . . . please." She pulled his head down to her, kissing him desperately. "Love me."

He encircled her in his arms and leaned over her, pressing her head back into his hand with the kiss. He stroked in her deeply, more insistently. She moaned. "More," she pleaded before continuing the kiss.

His lips pressed into hers, his tongue stroking hers insistently. His hands were on her upper back, as his strokes increased.

She could feel the head of his shaft sliding trhough her--back and forth, resting each time in her delicately sensitive core. She held his face in her hands, as she whimpered through the kiss.

Her tight depths massaged him in so beautifully intimate a way, as she responded to his thrusts. He couldn't help becoming more aroused, growing further inside of her.

She whimpered, trembling, as she held him to her, her hands on his back; her legs wrapped even more tightly around him. His swelling in her increased the incredible friction of their bodies against each other. Her kiss was now probably painful in its insistence.

He sped up again, as she met him, stroke for stroke. He broke the kiss. "No one else feels like you," he whispered. He moaned and kissed her cheek. "No one else holds me like you."

Nikita was groaning. "Deeper," she begged, gasping. She dropped her head to suckle on the skin between his shoulder and neck.

He groaned and swelled further within her. "Yes . . . good." He moaned and stroked her harder, thrusting even deeper into her hot depths. Nikita groaned before continuing to suckle him harder. He stroked her so perfectly, his head hitting her in just the way she most desperately needed him. There were tears coming to her eyes.

She was biting him slightly now. He groaned, holding her head to him. "Yes . . . yes." He continued to increase his thrusts.

She let go of his neck. "Oh God, Michael." She pulled her head back to look at him. Her eyes were desperate and loving.

So were his. They continued watching each other, as he reached down to hold her hips. Neither could speak. He used her hips to pull himself into her in hard thrusts.

She was crying--connecting with his liquid stare; she couldn't break the look. Their souls were entangling through their eyes--pleading with each other to understand the depths of their love and need.

His strokes were overwhelming her--each one echoing through her in shockwaves of loving desire. His head was rampaging through her slick depths before connecting with her heavily, making her desire escalate almost unbearably.

"Yes," she mouthed.

His hands took hold of her lower back, and he presented her with several, increasingly intense, sharp strokes. Her mouth opened, her lips trembling. Her eyes were wide in desire and understanding. He gave her one more deep stroke and then held still, feeling the beginning of her contractions around him.

They were both on the edge. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to him, his cheek by hers, as she held him tightly. Every muscle in them was poised, unable to take any further tension. They were both panting.

Their eyes closed, as they felt the other's love wrap around them--through them. It threatened to shatter their control, as the bond insinuated itself into every fiber of their increasingly-shared being.

Michael took a breath, trying to speak. His hand caressed her hair. "`Kita." He panted again for a second. He kissed her cheek, while she felt his every heartbeat as her own. "Oh God, Nikita. . . . I love you." "Michael," she whimpered, as he gave her one final stroke.

They both cried out, holding each other. The embrace would have been painful if they had still been separate beings, but they no longer were. As they arched into each other in shattering pleasure, they became whole, became what they should always have been--a single entity.

Their hearts, their souls reached out to and wrapped through each other, intermingling completely; it was a feeling of such light as to be almost blinding. Their shared body was trembling with the force of it.

They felt--they knew everything in the other at that moment. Most overwhelmingly, though they understood that they had finally joined--that nothing could ever separate them again.

They stroked each other's hair, as they became lost in one another. Their overpowering physical release blended seamlessly into this new, complete spiritual bond; it was an absolutely unified experience.

They had both forgotten the old boundaries--where their bodies began and ended. It didn't matter anymore. . . . They were one.

As they finally began to come down together, they sighed--feeling and revelling in their mingled love, before the whole of them finally fell asleep.

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

I should mention for this part that I realize the pronouns are a bit odd in places, but . . . well, you'll understand why, as you go along. :) Sorry if it all freaks anyone. :D

Nikita's dream had become so meaningful to her that she had no desire, at the moment, to let her conscious mind remember that this wasn't her reality. The events in her unconscious realm, however, were about to force her to accept a highly-altered version of her usual waking life.

She was convinced again that she awoke in Michael's arms. He was still lying on top of her, ensheathed in her depths, his arms around her, his hands on her back.

She was awakened, however, by the soft stroke of fingers on her arm, although Michael hadn't moved. Her eyes popped open in alarm.

When they did, she looked up to see Michael sitting on her bed, examining her possessively, as he touched her. She gasped, waking . . . whoever this was on top of her.

Her lover looked up at her to see what was wrong, and she saw that he, too, was Michael. She groaned slightly and shook her head, baffled and a bit in shock. "What's going on?!"

The man whose body was still connected to hers smiled gently at her and kissed her cheek. "It's alright, Nikita. It's just us."

She looked back and forth between the physically-identical, naked men in front of her. "`Us'?" Her voice was very small, as she tried to comprehend.

The tender Michael decided that she was going to need a few minutes adjusting to this concept. He took hold of her hip and pulled himself from her, to a shared groan.

Her eyes were closed. "I'm not sure that answered my question any further." She refocused on him.

"Look at me, Nikita," the other Michael's voice shivered through her passionately. She did. His face was harder than her most recent lover's, his eyes less gentle. "You know who I am," he stated authoritatively.

Her face grew a little harder in return. "Yes . . . I do." Seeing him next to his gentle, loving self brought back all of her anger at him.

"You're the son-of-a-bitch who's manipulated me for four years."

The tender Michael stroked her cheek, getting her attention. "Then I am, too."

She shook her head, her eyes softening. "No. You're not. . . . You wouldn't have done any of the things he has."

He nodded. "You're right. But that doesn't make me any less a part of him."

She sat back against the head of her bed, exasperated--drawing away from his hand. "Great." She thumped her hands down on the bed beside her. "So, you're both here to remind me that I'm totally conflicted about you?"

The Section Michael's eyes flashed for a second, remembering too well the conversation he had had with her--when he had told her about that same emotion in himself. "No. That's not why we're here."

"Well?" she prompted.

Her most recent lover smiled tenderly at her impatience. "I know it's hard to accept us both, . . . but we can't be separated." He smiled sympathetically. "It's both or none." It was an explanation, not an ultimatum. "Just as it is with you."

She shook her head in denial. "I don't have two sides."

Her ex-mentor sighed. "Yes. You do," his eyes locked with hers. "Everyone does. . . . And you know it."

His twin looked gently at her, drawing her attention with his soft voice. "You aren't split as radically as we are. . . . Most people aren't." He laughed a little. "You're a lot saner."

She looked over at the hard Michael and then back at the tender one. "Wouldn't it be better if I just got rid of him and focused on you?"

He looked sadly at her and shook his head. "I can't survive in Section." His eyes held terrible memories. "You know that."

She looked down, remembering, a little ashamed that she hadn't protected him better.

"No," he leaned forward to stroke her face--reading her thoughts. "You did your best. You did wonderfully."

"*I* failed," his twin broke in.

"You weren't even there," Nikita pointed out, looking at him--his double's hand still on her cheek.

"Precisely," he agreed.

She gave a little strangled noise of annoyance and hit his arm with the back of her hand--a gesture of frustration, not causing him any real pain. "Dammit!" she yelled, as she connected with him. "You're not responsible for everything! You're a total son-of-a-bitch, and you've screwed up my life something awful, but I *hate* that you think that any time you're human it's a mistake!"

He bore her tirade without any visible outward change. "That one was," he pointed out.

She screamed in frustration again and looked to his twin, whose hand still stroked soothing patterns on her cheek. "Would you tell him to shut up before I *really* hit him?"

He laughed slightly. "He wouldn't mind it even if you did."

She gave a strangled groan. "How sick is that?"

Her Section nemesis lost his patience and grabbed her shoulders, pulling her away from his twin. He looked in her eyes very seriously. "Listen to me. I need you. I don't care if you despise me every second of every day; I don't care if you leave bloody, open wounds on me. It doesn't matter. I just need you to accept that I'm always yours--regardless of what might seem to be true. . . . Anything you do to me after that is irrelevant."

She shook her head, her despair showing on her face. "Don't you see how unhealthy that is, Michael--for both of us?" Her eyes were tearing. "How long can we go on in this endless cycle of hate, passion, and pain?" Her voice got small. "Where will that end?"

The tender version of her lover put his hand on her back, as she and his twin continued to be locked in their stare. "It will end where it's supposed to, `Kita. . . . It will end where it needs to."

She sighed, slightly defeated, and looked at him, the other Michael still holding her arms. He continued, now stroking her face. "I know it's not pretty or perfect. . . . I'm sorry. We both wish it could be." His twin's hands stroked down her arms, as he looked down in saddened agreement. His tender side kissed her lightly and looked at her again. "It doesn't mean we don't love you."

She leaned back against the wall behind her bed--away from both of them-- and took a breath, trying to gather her thoughts. "I just wish I could love you without all the pain and anger."

The gentle twin leaned toward her, taking her face in his hands and kissing her softly before releasing her and leaning back. "We know." He sighed. "We know it's not what any of us want."

He shook his head a little, a small smile on his face, as his mind switched paths slightly. "We're lucky, though, really." His twin focused on him. "Most people never find the other part of their soul; they go for lifetimes--never meeting them--or finding someone convenient, convincing themselves falsely that they've discovered them."

Nikita listened, eyes liquid.

He let out a shaky breath and looked down at the bed. "I'm sorry for all my twin's done to you, `Kita. I wish it could be different--that I could spare you the pain I've given." He looked up at her, sadly. "But--even to save us both the pain of this life--I don't think I could want . . . to not have met you." He looked at his other self and back at her. "I-- neither of us--could live another lifetime without you."

She closed her eyes, head lowering. "Neither could I."

She sighed, after a second, mind switching tracks slightly, and looked up. "It doesn't seem fair, though."

"No," he agreed, "it doesn't."

She looked at the Section Michael. "You'll just hurt me again, won't you?"

He nodded, eyes filled with torturous knowledge. "Yes . . . whenever it can't be avoided."

"Whenever Section says it can't be avoided," his twin amended.

The Section side accepted this as the truth. "Yes," he sighed. "But it won't stop me from needing you."

"Or me from loving you," his other side added.

She closed her eyes again and shook her head. "Jesus, the Fannings look sane compared to this."

"No," the tender one answered, stroking her leg lightly. "David Fanning needed a victim." He looked over at his twin, once she looked up. "*He* doesn't want to hurt you."

"It's not really enough, is it?" she asked.

They shook their heads, looking at her. "No."

She let out a tired breath and leaned her head back for a minute before refocusing on them. She then began laughing slightly.

"What is it?" her ex-mentor asked.

She was still laughing a little. "Well, I just realized I've been having a deep conversation with two sides of the same man, while we all sat on my bed, totally nude. . . . Doesn't that strike you as a bit funny?"

He shook his head, accepting it with his usual stoicism. "No."

The tender side smiled at her.

"I'll have to buy you a sense of humor for Christmas," she chuckled.

The tender side smiled. "He has one. He just keeps it in a drawer until it's needed."

She laughed even harder. The situation seemed ludicrous.

She stopped laughing suddenly, though, when her mind began to really take in the situation; maybe it was all really just embarrassing. She blushed slightly, unaccountably beginning to feel her nakedness.

Her Section mentor examined her analytically. Then, he leaned forward and placed a light kiss on her cheek.

She took in a breath, closing her eyes.

He continued to place very light, teasing kisses down her face, until he reached her neck. There, he sucked a sensitive bit of flesh into his lips and licked it, before nibbling on it slightly. She moaned, holding him to her.

He pulled back after a few seconds and whispered in her ear. "Still embarrassed?"

She opened her eyes and looked at his twin. She released the man she held and looked down. "No." Her breasts were making her arousal fairly obvious to them both. "But," she sighed, looking up, "I want you both."

They both smiled at her; the tender twin's was warm--heart-melting, while his double's was just a slight quirk of the lips. "Why do you think this is a problem?" the Section one asked.

She looked back and forth between them. "Well . . . um." She couldn't think of any delicate way to say it; she took a breath. "You won't both fit into me--not in the way I want, anyway."

"Hell, one of you's enough for any woman," her mind added silently.

Their smiles grew, as though they had heard her thought. The tender Michael answered her. "Let us show you something." The Section twin looked at him and held up his left hand; his double moved over a little and put his behind it. A second later, they had fused into one.

Nikita's eyes grew wide. "How'd you do that?!"

"Touch it," her ex-trainer advised.

She did, tentatively. It was warm, solid--soft. She looked up at them, and the hand took hold of hers, stroking it gently. She groaned and looked back at it.

It continued gently arousing her. At times, however, it seemed to not be joined completely. Two thumbs of the hand would stroke her, then rejoin to stroke as one--whichever was more pleasurable to her.

She looked up at them. "This is weird," she insisted, although her stomach was flip-flopping a little in desire.

They smiled at her and held her hand more lightly. The Section one leaned in to kiss her palm--tongue running out briefly to trace a small line, while his twin took one of her slim fingers in his mouth, suckling it. Her pulse rate doubled, eyes widening again. After a minute, they stopped, looking up at her once more. "It has intriguing possibilities, though, doesn't it?" the tender one asked.

She looked at them. Alright, it was bizarre, but what a fool she would be to pass up an opportunity like this. "It does," she agreed, eyes wide, smiling a bit.

They leaned in to kiss the hand they held and then released it. Then, the hand they had joined separated again, as they each became whole once more.

"We love you, Nikita," her tender lover said. "If you want us, . . . we're yours."

She looked at them both. They were so incredibly beautiful--so perfectly made. She looked over the tender one--his eyes had so much love; he was such an open and giving lover--so delicately, passionately sensual, fulfilling--completing her, both body and soul.

She examined his twin next--his whole manner spoke of some predatory jungle cat, body capable of grace, danger, and a sort of savage beauty; his love was ruthless, endangering but deeply--almost brutally--satisfying. . . . God, yes, she wanted them both.

It was growing increasingly evident, looking at them, that her passion was returned. She opened her arms to them. "Please . . . yes."

They melded themselves into one; they were both still obviously present, however, in some completely indefinable way. They moved toward her and drew her into their arms.

They looked at her for a minute from the same eyes. Love and passion--both violent and tender--shone out to her. A hand pulled her head forward, and they kissed her, leaning her back on the bed.

Two mouths in one seemed to close on hers. One gently sought out ways to please her--touching, tasting. The other possessed her lips, her tongue--demanded acquiescence, commanded her pleasure.

She couldn't keep up with their conflicting demands, but neither seemed to mind. They seemed so happy to be joined to her, needing the soft, sweet depths, the reassurance of her love that the kiss held. . . . It was an amazing experience.

One strong arousal pressed against her nether bud, throbbing against her. She groaned, pressing her hips against theirs. One Michael nipped at her lips, while the other grew slightly more frenzied in his worship of her mouth.

Her hands moved down them, caressing the wide sweep of broad shoulders, tracing down the wonderful, strong lines of muscles, as they quivered in response. Their arousal twitched against her, making her groan again. There was a responding groan and one head rose from her lips to begin nuzzling and kissing down her cheek. When he reached her jaw, he nibbled just under it, suckling at bits of flesh. The other Michael continued to gently arouse her mouth.

The first Michael reached her neck, as he separated from his twin, some parts of them still overlapping. He began nibbling, slightly roughly, at its tender places of need. She moaned and held the other more firmly in the kiss. The first one bit her harder in response.

She gasped in pleasure, and her second lover kissed her once more before breaking away. He kissed tenderly over her cheek to her earlobe, nuzzling at it, suckling it. He then moved down to the unoccupied side of her neck and began suckling the tender places there.

The combination of their skills and passions was amazing. One was so tender with her, worshipping her flesh into warm, tingling arousal. The other was rough in his pleasing, reminding her willing flesh that it was his to passionately torment.

They were overwhelming her; her breathing was increasingly unsteady. When they traced their hands up her body to caress her breasts, she cried out. "Oh, God, yes! Please, Michael, more." She held their heads to her.

One head smiled against her neck in response, while the other growled. The hand on her right breast caressed it, stroked slow lines over the aroused nipple before squeezing her breast tenderly. Its matching hand, however, captured its nipple and rolled it roughly between its fingers; it squeezed her needy breast, reminding it who controlled its desires.

"Ohhh!" she cried. Her hands left the soft hair she had been caressing and--passing through their bodies ethereally--came to rest on their solid hands, holding them more tightly over her breasts.

She blinked suddenly, realizing what had happened. She looked up. "How did I do that?"

They ceased teasing her neck momentarily to look up at her. "Does it matter?" the Section one asked. They each caressed a breast.

She closed her eyes and moaned. "No," she agreed in a small voice.

They each smiled in their own distinct way and then began to move down her body. One licked her softly; the other gave her hard, teasing kisses.

They removed her hands, as they reached her breasts. One licked taunting lines around a nipple; the other ran his teeth lightly over her--repeatedly, followed each time by a soothing stroke of his tongue.

Her hands rested on their heads, stroking their hair, as she sighed in pleasure. Then, in unison, they each took a nipple into their mouths, suckling her firmly.

She moaned out her desire. "Oh, more," she pleaded. "Yes. . . . More."

The man on her right seemed to encircle her with his tongue, as he suckled her. His warm mouth drew her in, aroused her with tender desire.

His twin, however, held her in his teeth, his tongue running over the sensitive tip of the bud. His suckling would then begin again, until he interrupted it to bite her perfectly once more, commanding the aching desire there.

The pleasure from both of them was almost too much. One was soft with her--one hard, but both appealed to opposite sides of her nature. The combination of them was amazing--such skilled lovers--the *same* skilled lover, intent solely on pleasing her, because it was what they both longed for, as well. She loved . . . wanted them . . . him so much. She was moaning constantly by the time they decided to switch off their playthings. They changed sides and repeated their pattern again.

"Ohhhh . . . ohhhh, God, yes," she moaned. Each nipple was now being given the sort of love it had been denied before. One was soothed from its rough treatment by a loving touch--was reminded again of how arousing tenderness could be; the other was aroused yet further, was reacquainted with the mate who possessed it.

She was groaning and panting, completely lost in sensation. The Michael on her right began to move down her body, but the one on her left lifted his head up her slightly, till he kissed over her heart.

"Mmmm," she moaned, kissing the top of his head, as his twin reached and kissed over her abdomen, working downward. She still held them both to her, moaning slightly.

She was surprised, however, by a shock of emotion when the Michael at her heart suddenly flicked his tongue out and then--somehow--into the beating muscle there, placing an ethereal kiss to the symbolic center of her emotions.

"Oh God," she cried.

He kissed it twice more and then leaned up to kiss her cheek before moving to join his twin in tracing down her body.

Nikita's eyes were still closed. She was still in shock from this new ethereal ability of her lover; it had spurred all of her emotions, had connected her with him in the most spiritually intimate way. She had let them both go, overwhelmed, as she tried to remember to breathe. She was lost in loving and erotic sensation.

"I love you," she whispered before opening her eyes again. Michael had corporeally recombined and was now sitting between her parted thighs. He looked up from kissing one and smiled at her. Her eyes shone at him. He gently spread her legs further apart and bent his head to the part of her he loved to tempt the most--the area of her whose desires he most loved controlling.

Tears of love and desire filled her eyes. Then, she felt the shock of two erotic mouths connecting with her tender flesh. She moaned loudly. The tender Michael was licking her bud, like a cat lapping cream. The other held her depths open with his fingers, as he ran his tongue around her--just inside her; he then lowered his mouth further and slid his wet, inventive tongue into her, flicking it at a tender spot he had found.

She held them each to her, as she moaned out her approval. The Michael at her bud began flicking at her remorselessly, while the one inside her stroked a hot path up and down one sensitive wall. They both held her to them from behind, as her breathing became dangerously erratic.

She was groaning very loudly, as her tender lover changed his pattern again. He took her between his lips and stroked at her with the tip of his tongue--up and down mercilessly. His twin created a suction on her with his mouth, drinking from her honeyed depths. She was giving a constant kind of groaning scream.

A second later, her more feral lover plunged himself ruthlessly back into her--his tongue hitting and commanding a secret, quiveringly sensitive, spot.

At precisely the same moment, the other Michael pulled at her with his lips, brushing her with his teeth and a flick of his tongue, as he released her.

Nikita whimpered beneath them. Her hips arched uncontrollably at them, lifting from the bed. She felt incredible shockwaves of pleasure vibrate through her, crashing over her in waves. She moaned, caught in them completely.

Both Michaels rejoined to drink from her deeply, loving the pleasure they had given her. They both knew this was how it should be--that any pleasure either of them gave to their treasured Nikita was right.

They had trouble tearing themselves away from her sweetness to return to her. They eventually did, though, each massaging his way back up, retasting the lovely parts they had missed in their absence at her core.

Once they finally returned to face her, she held them to her, kissing them soundly, possessing their mouth. Their devotion at her depths had made her need for them insane.

Finally, she pulled back and looked at him. "You're mine," she whispered. She rolled him over, landing on top of him, and kissed him again. She nipped slightly at his lips and then began to kiss over his cheek, licking at the stubble with her tongue, before moving down to nibble at his jawline.

Michael groaned, holding her to him. She ran her tongue under his jaw and then kissed lovingly along it.

She moved further down to seek out the delicate spots on his neck, the ones which responded only to her--a fact she only knew in this ethereal place. She caught at one, as he held her to him. She suckled at it, showing it all the erotic attention it deserved. His breathing was a bit shaky in response.

After a few minutes, she grazed at it with her teeth slightly, as she let it go. Michael groaned and gently moved her head on him, guiding her to a spot that needed her attention. "Please . . . hard," part of him groaned. She grazed her teeth over the spot before biting at him, tormenting him. He panted, holding her to him. "More."

She bit him harder and felt his arousal jump against her, growing. "Yes," he moaned. She loved the delicate spot roughly, fulfilling its not-so-tender fantasy.

She had bruised it by the time she left. He was still panting. "Thank you."

His hands guided her again, gently stroking through her hair. Another spot needed her. "Please," his gentle voice asked.

She took the spot softly in her lips, letting her tongue run over it. He moaned. She suckled him tenderly--passionately, as he sighed. "Yes," he breathed. "Yes."

Her hands slid up his chest, meanwhile, until they found the small, hard nipples. She teased him--pinching one, gently rolling the other between her fingers.

"Ohhh, yes, `Kita," he moaned in response. "Please, yes."

She let go of his neck, pausing for a second to run her teeth over and suckle one earlobe. Then, she began to kiss her way down to his chest. He was tense with anticipation.

She licked over to one nipple and ran her teeth over it, as her hand gently aroused its twin. His hands continued in her hair, his voice harsh. "More."

She bit him, suckling roughly, while her hand stroked the back of his shoulder, holding him to her. He moaned. "Oh yes . . . yes."

After a few more minutes of this rough treatment, she licked that nipple goodbye and moved to its double. She took it gently in her mouth and suckled at it. Her hand caressed the abandoned one.

He panted. "Wonderful," he moaned.

A minute or so later, she left this thoroughly-aroused bud, as well. Before she moved further down him, however, she placed her head over his heart and kissed his skin. Then, using his trick, she flicked her tongue into the muscle and kissed him.

He panted, groaning. "Oh God." His voice was rough.

She could feel the connection to him even more strongly here. His love for her beat loudly--washing through her; she understood that she was the only person he really kept there.

"'Kita," he called. He pulled her back up to him and kissed her deeply, sharing his love for her. The kiss and the emotions they shared in it were astonishing. He tried to roll her back over, but she stopped him. She looked up, locking his eyes.

"No, Michael," she told him defiantly. "You're not denying me this."

She smiled slightly and then began to kiss her way back down him. She came to rest with her head hovering over his arousal. She started touching him very softly with her hand, her palm just brushing up and down his length. "I know you need me, Michael," she smiled at him. He forced open his eyes to look at her, her touch already inflaming him. "But I have to taste you."

He closed his eyes, too tortured by the passion she offered him to be able to watch her, but she wouldn't let him go so easily. "Watch me, Michael," she taunted him, as he managed to look at her once more. "Watch me love you."

She reached down below his arousal and cupped the sac beneath; he took in a breath, heartbeat thundering. Then, keeping eye contact with him all the way, she bent down to take the head of his shaft into her mouth, suckling him. The hand below began to caress him, as the other closed around the bottom of his need, stroking firmly upwards.

He groaned loudly, his eyes closing involuntarily, too overcome with her willingness--her desire to please him. She continued stroking his length, as her tongue circled around the tip--tormenting him. He grabbed hold of the sheets. Her tongue ran just under the rim of the head. "Yes . . . yes," he moaned.

She continued to suck him, moving her mouth further down. She took in as much of him as she could, but he was too large to be completely subsumed by her mouth.

It wasn't like it mattered. Not only did he not expect it, he was completely overwhelmed as it was--was groaning loudly enough from her present efforts to please her immensely.

She moved up and down in a rhythm, sucking him hard. His breathing was dangerously erratic, his hips trembling, as they met her pattern softly. She wanted to continue, to coax his sweet warmth from him--which she was very close to achieving. There were two of him this time, after all; maybe she could fulfill one this way, while still saving the other for her hungry core.

"Noooo," she heard him groan. He pulled her away from his aching arousal, brought her up to face him.

His eyes were desperate. "I'm sorry, `Kita," he panted. "I have to have you." He barely had the breath to talk. "Please." He rolled her over until she was beneath him, kissing her deeply as he did. "Now."

Still panting, his hands stroked up her thighs. He held himself over her, his aching arousal pressed just against her depths. "Please," he begged desperately, waiting for her agreement.

She smiled at him and felt his length jump against her. "Oh, yes," she moaned, closing her eyes for a second.

He held her hips and skillfully adjusted his. His body was trembling slightly with his need for her. . . . God, that aroused her.

He leaned his head down to kiss her, his eyes focused on hers, as the head of his shaft began to press into her. She kissed him in return, watching him. Her hands ran down behind him, cupping him, and began to pull him into her. They both groaned, as he started to enter her. The kiss continued lightly, his eyes still locked to hers, as they felt inch by throbbing inch slide slowly into her warm, velvet depths.

The kiss ended. They were transfixed by each other's eyes--able to view the missing part of their soul there.

They were each convinced that they were part of a miracle. Only something holy could create this. They were parts of some ancient mystery, their bodies made--molded perfectly for each other alone.

There had been others, of course; there would be again. But nothing--no one else would ever come close to this. It just wasn't possible. This was sacred--transcending all simple concerns of the flesh. This was a return to a natural, holy state--one most people travel through lifetimes without ever discovering.

They each saw--understood all this in each other's eyes. Every beautiful inch connected them--bound them together, allowed them to join all aspects of their love--mated bodies, mated souls.

He was so close to filling her completely now. No other man would ever feel like this, and she felt clearly through his eyes that he understood without question that no other woman would ever match her.

He had almost reached her limit. They both knew, without doubt, that this was what God had made them for.

He touched her core, reached into her as far as he could go. They both closed their eyes and rested their foreheads against each other. The sensations in this amazing, ethereal place were so intense; they shared all their emotions on top of a complete sensual understanding.

Their arms came up to hold each other, their hands stroking one another's backs. They ran their foreheads lightly against each other's, glorying in the feelings they shared.

"I love you, Michael." It was superfluous to voice it at this point, but she did anyway.

He groaned and held her closer, kissing her cheek. "My `Kita . . . I love you," her joined lovers moaned. His hands massaged her shoulders, as he began to caress her depths in long strokes; her words had sparked his needs. One side of him flared in near-despair at the pain that still lay between them--and the pain yet to come; the other had an overwhelming desire to apologize, to try to make up for all the evil he had done her.

Her arms encircled him completely, as she felt him stroke her. She rested her head against his shoulder. She loved the way he felt in her--the incredible, controlled power he used to please her. She met his thrusts, glorying in being the recipient of his love.

His strokes were long and deep, almost exiting her every time before sliding back into her core. Her soft, yielding depths surrounded him, caressed him with each journey; she wrapped around his throbbing erotic ache, soothing it with her tenderness.

He needed to fill her, needed her to feel him give himself to her--to offer himself in the only way possible for him. "Mmmm," he heard her murmur, as he stroked her slightly deeper. He began breathing more heavily. . . . He couldn't take much more of this.

He pulled back and grabbed her head in his hands, moving her from his shoulder to allow him to taste the sweet depths of her mouth.

"Yes," she murmured between kisses. Her legs wrapped around him, allowing him further into her.

"Ohhhh," he groaned, leaning back from the kiss, his eyes closed. She felt so good, and he needed her so badly. He couldn't be controlled much longer.

The two sides of him merged completely; they both needed her, both had to love her with everything they were. Their reasons varied slightly, but their love was absolute. Without her now, they would die.

He groaned again. His tormented eyes caught hers. "I'm sorry, Nikita," he groaned. "I just can't be gentle tonight."

His mouth closed on hers without giving her time to react. He didn't need to; he felt all her emotions, knew she was in agreement with him. She needed him for all the same reasons.

His lips pressed against hers, pushing her head back into the bed, as he kissed her deeply--demandingly. His hands ran down her sides to hold her hips still, as he took control, needing--more desperately than he could possibly have expressed--to please her.

Her silken walls grabbed him, held tight around him, as he began to give her long, forceful strokes--helping him love her in the way they both so desperately needed. The head of his shaft sent warm shudders through her depths, as it helped thunder a path through her . He stopped kissing her and leaned his head back. She felt so achingly good around him.

Her hands were over his on her hips, helping him to hold her down. She needed him like this--needed his love and desire to be dedicated to her alone, needed to know without doubt that it was real.

Her eyes were closed, as she felt his constant advances. She leaned up blindly to nip at his exposed neck, knowing by instinct where it was.

"Michael," she moaned, as she kissed his exposed throat. "No-ohhh," she was interrupted in her thought when he began to stroke dedicatedly up and down one sensitive wall, leaving sweet fire in his wake. She panted, trying to catch her breath enough to speak. "No one else could ever . . ." She was about to say, "No one else could ever love me like this," but realized what a ridiculous understatement that was. "No one else exists," she murmured finally. She suckled at his Adam's apple.

"Uhhhh . . . `Kita," his harsh voice groaned. "`Kita . . . yes, please." His strokes were still long but were growing much harder. "I," he panted, "need you."

"Yes, Michael, yes," she groaned.

He looked down at her, as she refocused on his beautiful, impassioned face. His entire body was straining above her, was racked with tension. Every muscle was defined in his effort. His thrusts grew deeper.

He was groaning, trying to speak. She put her hands on his neck, holding on--stroking the back of it tenderly. "I want . . . to love you softly, `Kita." He groaned, closing his eyes briefly, holding her hips even closer, as he rode her further in--to her whimpering sigh. He looked at her again, his eyes begging for forgiveness, for understanding. "I can't." He panted. "I have to have you." His eyes were wet. "Forgive me."

He unwrapped her legs from around him and took hold of her silky, tension-filled thighs. He pushed them up her body and then ran his hands further up, placing her legs over his shoulders; the backs of her thighs ran along his chest. He was watching her eyes for a reaction.

He got one. She closed her eyes and moaned. "Oh Michael, yes." She groaned, pushing her hips toward him. "Harder . . . please," she begged. Fortunately, she was limber enough to get away with this position.

He could barely withstand how deep her desire for him ran. His need for her was a fire singing in his blood.

He drove into her with hard, sharp thrusts. She let out little gasping "Oh . . . Oh, yes"es with each stroke. In this position, there was an incredible friction for them both.

He rode her even further up her body. His hands held her hips where he needed them, bending her to their shared will--to the thrum of their overpowering desire for each other.

"Please, Michael . . . Ahhhhh," she cried, panting. "Please, yes. . . . More."

He leaned further over her, riding her hard, his eyes taking in the incredible, impassioned look on her face. "My God, Nikita," he moaned. The head of his shaft was beating into her core with an incessant, mounting rhythm. "There will *never* be anyone but you."

Her eyes were still closed, as she focused on the vibrating tension they were creating between them. He felt absolutely huge inside her, stretching her--filling her in a way so perfect it could never be described. The aching, singing warmth he was giving her was almost unbearable. She wasn't sure it was possible to take any more of him, but she was desperate to try.

"More, Michael," she moaned. She looked at him. "Please . . . give me a little more." She sounded--accurately--like an addict.

He groaned. "You want more of me?"

There were tears in her eyes. "Yes, yes . . . please." Her hands stroked in his hair.

He held her lower back. His eyes were wide and bright. He trapped her firmly beneath him, as his long strokes sang through her--hitting her incredibly deep. "More," he panted, "than that?"

"Ohhhh," she groaned. She dug her heels into his back, trying to hold herself up to him further. "Michael, yes . . . yes, please . . . more."

His hands moved to mid-back. He pumped himself further and further into her depths, his head hitting her hard. "Like that?"

"OHHHH!" She panted, eyes closing. "Ahhh, ohhh . . . more." She looked at him, eyes pleading and willing.

He looked a little frightened, the two sides of him battling slightly. Her hands caught at his hair, pulling it a bit. "Michael, . . . ohhh." She panted once again. "Listen to me. . . . I'm not afraid of you. . . . Please," she was begging, "don't hold back. I need all of you." Her eyes were desperate.

A tormented groan escaped from him, as his tender side gave up on its fears and allowed his ruthless self free range.

He leaned closer to her, riding her further in, stretching her body even more. "You need me?" he asked ferally.

"Yes!" she begged. She closed her eyes, lost in the feel of him. "Ohhh, yes."

"Look at me," he ordered. She did. His hands moved to her shoulders.

"You're mine . . . only mine." He burned deep within her. "Forget it ever again," his Section side warned her, gripping her shoulders, while he stroked brutally into her, "And I can't be responsible for my actions."

His rough rhythm trebled then. He was savaging her depths, as she pulled him further in, groaning roughly.

His hands caught her face; his eyes burned into hers. He was impacting against her core with brutalizing force, his head pummeling her. "Now," his voice was rough, "come, my love," he demanded, as he slammed into her once more and ground himself into her perilously-oversensitized, slick core.

"Mine!" he demanded and repeated the action once more, his mouth closing over hers.

Her groaning scream was caught in the kiss. Her nails raked at his neck. She was weeping uncontrollably, biting at--suckling his lips.

The vibrations sang through her, convulsing her entire body, spasming her helplessly. He leaned back from the kiss, because she was weeping too hard to take part in it. Her eyes were closed.

"Mi . . . chael," she sobbed. She looked up at him, her eyes divesting everything she was to his care. She was overwhelmed by the trembling warmth which ran through her entire body, shaking her to her soul. She was still crying.

He looked at her and groaned. "`Kita." He took her legs off his shoulders and leaned over to hold her, picking her up--holding her to him like an infant.

He cradled her in his arms, as he sat them both up. He buried his face in her neck. "I love you." He moaned. "Oh God, I love you."

She hadn't much strength left to respond, but her love reached out to his soul, as her crying finally ceased. She held him, kissing his cheek. "Michael. I love you. . . . I love you."

His hands stroked down her back in long sweeps, as he held her--his love flowing through her, and she somehow managed to feel desire again. . . . How he could do this to her, could create this phoenix-like resurrection in her so easily, she would never know.

He leaned back, examining her, stroking her face, feeling her desire and love course through him. "My beautiful Nikita," he whispered. He groaned, kissing her deeply. He began stroking into her, as she sat on his lap.

"Oh Michael," she whispered, holding him in the kiss again. He had completely--magically reawakened her desire with just a few soft touches.

He continued searching her sweet mouth. His rhythm was steady and deep. He was swollen almost painfully in her, but he couldn't let go yet. . . . She just felt so good.

He pulled back for a second to look at her. Then, he gave her another sweet, deep kiss, while his hands went to her back and lifted her. Her depths were so overwhelmingly sensitized that being carried on him like this came as close as she had even gotten to the oxymoron of "sweet pain." She clung to him, as he moved her to rest against the wall at the head of her bed, his knees still on her mattress, as he held her up.

He put his hand behind her head and then propped her there, his other arm around her. She had her legs wrapped around him but was mostly riding on his swollen length, which was buried deep within her.

They kissed, clinging to each other, as he rode her in very deep, short strokes. His head was at home deep in her core.

He pulled back from the kiss to look at her. "`Kita, I love you." He moved her a bit further down him, so that he rode her further up her body. His eyes pleaded with her to believe him. She panted, listening to his words.

He kissed her once more, as he stroked more deeply, a bit harder. She groaned loudly in it. He looked back at her. "There will never be anyone else in my heart."

Her eyes were closed, as the tension of their passion sang through her. She was making a constant, high-pitched whimpering noise.

He gave her a nipping kiss once more and then adjusted her so that he rode her as deeply as was possible, his strokes a smooth, deep, radiating warmth. He trailed his kisses down her neck until he placed his mouth over her heart. "I love you, my soul," he whispered. Then, his tongue seemed to stroke deep into her; he kissed the depths of her heart, as he gave three, increasingly deep, hard strokes into the silk of her absolute core.

"Mi-chael," she whimpered, as every wall she had melted. Her body trembled and bucked in throbbing, overwhelming release. There was no cell in her . . . no part of her being which didn't experience it.

"Ohhhhh," she was crying. Her body had been re-formed by him, recreated into a new whole which only understood pleasure; she was only silk, fire, love, and passion.

She was his; he was hers--this essential truth sang through her, as she clung to him, finally able to move enough now to kiss down his cheek. His overwhelming love ran through her, warming her--completing her even more fully than his sweet body had.

There was only one more thing she could ever possibly need. . . . She needed him to join her.

He was holding her, eyes closed, breathing labored. Her fulfillment washed through him, hovering him on the edge.

She leaned her head down and poised it over his heart. "I'm yours, my dear love," she whispered. Then, she stroked her tongue into it, placing a sweet, giving, ethereal kiss on his innermost heart.

"`Ki-ta," he whispered in a breath so soft she barely heard it.

She raised herself back up and held him to her, mouth at his ear. "Yes," she breathed into it. She kissed his cheek and held him close, fusing her soul to his.

Michael trembled. His hips gave one more rotating stroke into her, and then his release swept completely through him, erasing all that had come before.

He felt her in a hundred different ways. She was in his heart--was swimming through his soul; she was the comforting spot of sanity in his mind.

As she inhaled a breath, he exhaled the same one, their bodies understanding no boundaries.

The sensual release of it was almost the least important. He came into her deeply, feeling it in every fiber of his body and hers. It melted every cell in him into her, allowing them a complete fusion. . . . Whole . . . he was finally, finally whole.

She understood and shared every second of it, agreeing completely. They held each other as one joined, complete entity--one which existed every second in a state of total ecstasy.

They understood, knew the truth of it. This was what every living creature wanted. . . . This was Heaven.

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

Nikita opened her eyes from her dream finally, sorry she had had to wake. She supposed it didn't matter, though. She smiled. Where she had been frustrated and tense when she went to bed, she was now utterly content.

She knew it probably wouldn't last long, of course. Michael would no doubt have her hating him again within a week. But, for now, it was an amazing, short space of bliss.

She looked down at her bed and realized that she must have kicked the covers off in her dream. Huh. Then she noticed something even stranger. . . . She was nude.

"I must have really been hot and bothered," she thought. She moved to pull back up her covers and saw her discarded nightgown and underwear on the floor, just where the dream Michael had discarded them. . . . Weird.

Oh well, sleep was like that sometimes, she supposed. She snuggled into her sheets and smiled, remembering her linked dreams. If they wanted to be like that more often in the future, she wouldn't object at all.

Maybe being twin souled wasn't so bad, after all, she thought. As far as she was concerned, in fact, her subconscious could work out her problems this way any time it wanted to.

She drifted back off to sleep again finally, smiling, imagining Michael's scent surrounding her. She had no need to complain. . . . Memories of Heaven were close enough.

[The End]

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