Nikita's Rememberance : Hard Landing

The Centre advised me to contact him. The Freedom League offered him on a golden plate, a window for action.

I knew I could persuade him to bring me back into Section. I could talk him into believing it was for my sake. If I really found myself in the situation, I could say the very same thing.

I knew him, I knew he would answer.

I knew, despite all that we have been through, he cared for me. He didn't want me cancelled.

I knew that there was, has always been, a certain ...fascination between us, from both the sides.

I had already planned what to do and say to win The Master of Manipulation and Mind Games at his own game. It was avengening that, after the times he played me for a fool, I would fool him for The Centre.

I will never be able to explain to myself why I was so frightened, so panicked when I heard him, saw him approach me.

I can't explain why I held my gun on him, driven by instinct, surprised with the heaving of my chest.

I suddenly felt scared, defensless while he strode up to me, godlike, confident, threatening.

He had knocked the gun out of my hand with one movement . Just one movement and the hot premeditation I saw in his eyes startled me. My control was gone, along with my careful planning, my recent training.

Nothing had changed. I was still reduced at his recruit.

He threw me like a rag doll and pinned me to the bed. I fought him, again by instinct.

I wasn't thinking , just feeling, although I couldn't begin to explain what exactly I felt.

I liked the bruising violence in his grip while he held down my wrists.

His lips were possessive and ravaging over mine.

His caustic breath on my skin, his tongue piercing my mouth, challenging me, daring me to contradict him.

I kissed him back, aware and unaware of what I was doing.

When I felt his erection imperious between my thighs, I was shocked. Finally the implications of what was happening caught up to me.

I understood that I would fuck him.

Before, I had known I was walking on a subtle line. I accepted playing the spy, and now I understood that if I ever regained an ounce of the humanity I was losing in that moment, I might cry thousands upon thousands of tears for what I was about to do, and drown in the sorrow.

I didn't care. I already saw myself falling under his control. I had to know. I had know what joined me to him, after all the pain he had caused me.

What was compelling me to forget about paybacks and betrayals and lies, manipulations his and mine, for a hidden flicker behind his eyes?

I needed to figure it out, exorcise it and move on.

"I thought I'd lost you" he said to me hushedly, almost without inflection, with restraint.

His fingers and hands became gentle on my neck and face while he looked down at me.

I saw the pain, the desire, and the longing in his eyes.

I chose to summon to them, to try myself to see where that path would bring me. I chose to face the absurd, incredible attraction I had for him once for all, uncaring about consequences.

"You never had me."

I knew my angry response would slice through him. I wanted to hurt him badly, because he was forcing me to feel something I didn't want.

Because he was the catalyst for my new and unplanned deceit.

Hurt blazed though his emerald gaze, for once open, animal.

I wanted him. I missed him. At least this was true.

He claimed me for his own, and we fought the oldest war in the world, with mouths, tongues, fingers and arms.

My body curled around him and his around me; our hands pulled, enlarged caresses too harsh and demanding to be such, more alike to grips.

Insatiable.

There was elation in my undressing him and his hurried tossing of my clothing, in our lack of capacity for words.

There was wisdom and freedom, life and death, a sweet, sweet death, in his tongue all over me.

A beautiful, beautiful sufferance.

He spread open my legs and his tongue slurred inside my core. The sensation patronizing me was unnamable, like a boiling, impetuous submarine current passing through my body and deeper, crumbling my barriers, destroying my emotions. Exquisite.

Birth and self-destruction, because I needed to see with my eyes what boundaries we could cross, without our superiors interference's, even if I died trying.

There was a blunt, pure, and total ecstasy in the unsublimated sensation of Michael hard against and later inside me.

It wasn't pain, but the pleasure was so intense.

He was the first to finish and I resisted until just a little after.

He glared at me and I glared at him while we took several breaths. I watched with contempt and concentration at his twisted features. I felt him hardening again, deep inside me.

I thought it couldn't be me, the woman who was making love with her mentor, a potential stranger, a potential enemy, knowing that she would feed him lies if she was ordered to or needed to.

It couldn't be Michael, the man who was returning her lust, who was touching her face with such tender care, and awakening brutal parts of her she never knew existed until then.

I felt more that night than I had ever felt.

I realized, he allowed me to force him into my arms so that he could sleep, that I didn't just care about him. I loved him. Hopelessly.

And I screwed it up, because I couldn't back out of my plans. I was using him, although I didn't foresee this, and one day he would know.

That night, he took possession of my heart. He stole it without knowing and left in it no place for another.

I still couldn't help my pull to him, so strong. I still couldn't help HIM.

I had no easy answer for my questions, and everything was so much more complex.

I wonder if, doing something differently, I would have changed the course of our lives.

If, ignoring the sexual awe we emanated that night, I could have changed our history.

That night was the first time I lost him, from the first lie it was already too late.

Or if it's true the opposite and it was only the Inevitable waiting to happen.

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