YES, I would LOVE to have my email addy added as a link for my "fan mail." you can list my name as either Suzannah or Dane.

Disclaimer: Nikita, Michael, Operations, Madeline, Walter, Birkoff, and Section One are borrowed without permission from USA Network, LFN Productions, Fireworks Entertainment, Warner Brothers, and whoever else owns them legally. No copyright infringement is intended. All other characters and the story are mine.~ S. Dane 2/99 Warning: This is a completely adult story. It is inappropriate for anyone under 18. For D, who is on the cusp. Sweet dreams.

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

Nikita

My mind was in a wicked and strange place. I admit it. But how did my subconscious take my bitterness and Michael's torment and twist them into what happened in my head last night as I slept? If it hadn't been so...cathartic, I'd be embarrassed to even remember it. But as it is, I've been reliving it second by second all morning. I don't know what I'll do when I see Michael. I'm not sure I'll keep my senses if he says my name. Sometimes he says it so that the beginning nearly fades away leaving just a quiet, "Kee-ta." And that's just the way he said it last night.

Where did this begin? Michael, a wife, a child, me. No, not me. Michael and his family. Then just Michael. After all the things I've witnessed in Section One, I didn't think I could be shocked anymore. I never expected to see this total unraveling of the most tightly woven man ever created. I've raged at his deception, wept for my own crushed heart, and tried to stake a claim on detachment, but I couldn't watch his self-destruction without wanting to help him find some solace. His anger and rejection were predictable, I guess. I found out just how stern my stuff is when he told me he didn't want me near. Well, I've never been one to back away from a challenge; and he knows it. Wasn't that what he called one of my assets when he plucked me from prison hell and set me down in this one? Don't get me going on whether or not this is an improvement.

As I said, Michael was dying an agonizing emotional death. My own feelings were no less raw in their own way, but on the devastation scale, his loss was by far the greater. So, I forced myself into his limited realm of awareness and appealed to everything I could think of to jump-start his desire to live. It really wasn't working all that well, although he seemed to be a little less reckless, his stares a little less vacant in recent days. Then, yesterday, we met Robin.

Robin is... let's just say that when I met Robin I had to work at keeping my eyes from popping out of my head. My mask of indifference (yes, I can be taught) shielded what my mind was thinking, which, simply put, was Wow! First of all, I had to look up to him. Way up. Michael and I had been summoned to Madeline's office and there we all stood as she made the introductions.

I'm not sure exactly what she said, something about Robin's transfer from Section Three. So, as he offered his hand to me, I lifted my chin to stare directly into his deep brown eyes, to make the point, See, I'm not intimidated.' Or, perhaps more appropriately, awestruck. I had an ulterior motive: to avoid staring at his long thick auburn hair, which, despite being tied back in a ponytail that fell partly across his shoulder, glinted in the lights of Madeline's office with sparks of copper and bronze. Problem was, by getting close enough to ignore the mane of fire I discovered that he has breathtakingly long, dark eyelashes that look like lace against his very light skin when he squints his eyes in laughter. He laughs a lot. In Section. Go figure. I bravely clasped his hand and once again nearly gasped. He has the largest hands I've ever seen and they are warm, very warm. I swear I got a little rush of energy as our hands touched.

"Hello," I said, trying to sound nonchalant.

"Sae, yer the famis Nehkita," he said with a friendly smile. "I'm honored tae meet ye." His resonant voice wrapped itself around a lilting Scots accent and I promptly forgot how to make my own tongue work. My eyes still worked just fine, though. They took in every inch of this amazing creature: that magnificent hair, so shiny it looked like satin. Brown eyes like pools of liquid chocolate, capped by dark eyebrows that arched almost delicately, but on Robin only softened an otherwise too virile face. Impossibly straight, fine-edged nose. Wide mouth with lips just the right fullness. A solid and strong square jaw. While my tongue continued to play hooky, my eyes drifted over his huge shoulder span, down the length of his broad chest to the place where his white shirt (I know! Where were the de rigueur dark duds?) tucked into the waistband of his light gray trousers, which fit smoothly over trim hips then draped loosely around long legs. Very different.

I listened to this breathtaking giant greet Michael with something close to genuine niceness, watched as his wide mouth lifted time after time in hearty grins and somehow got the gist of our meeting. I do recall that Michael gave him an odd look. That is to say, Michael sort of woke up, came alive. This from a man who's been walking around in a near-comatose state for the last couple of weeks was a lot. But, as I was saying, the point of our meeting Robin was to lay the groundwork for an elaborate mission in Scotland. A mission requiring the three of us to be completely reliant on each other. It was important that we know each other well to make it convincing. I won't bore you with all the details--you know what these things are like. Half the time I don't even know what the hell the point of anything is even while I'm doing it. I'm not so sure Maddy and Ops are always clued in, either. Let's not go there.

We discussed the mission in general, then Michael said he and Robin needed to review some tactical issues, and I was excused. Usually, that would be great by me, but for some crazy reason, I felt jealous, left out. As we stood at a hallway juncture where I was about to go the opposite direction of the men, Robin asked me to have dinner with him. He asked Michael to "jine" us, but, of course, he said no. And, I was so exhausted from trying to bring Michael around to the land of the living that I just thought screw-it, he'll have to fend for himself tonight. So a few hours later, it was just Robin and me.

For the first time in many months, I laughed. Really big laughs. Tears and all. He tells hilarious stories and with the addition of a hard-trilling burr and an accent that got thicker in direct proportion to the amount of stout we drank, I actually forgot for a short while about...everything.

After a while, though, he shifted in his seat and made some small adjustment in his demeanor. "Tell me aboot the mysterrrious Mykil," he prompted me then. "He's gaw a monster rrreputation thrroughout all the Sections."

"Really?" I sat up a little straighter. "What kind of reputation?"

"Och, let's see--rrruthless, diabolical, black-hearted. Yer typical company mon." He smiled broadly but his facetiousness didn't hide what he was doing. His mahogany eyes were looking way past my surface as if he could divine my true feelings by peering through my eyes and skin. I nodded my head slowly and stuck out my lower lip. "Sounds about right to me."

"Hmm," he smiled. "Ye've got a wee rrrep yesel, ye ken."

"Me?"

"They say yer mulish pighaided, verra guid at what ye dae, and loyal tae the last drrrap tae Mykil."

I felt embarrassment rush up my neck and spread through my cheeks like lava from a volcano. But, I'd be damned before I'd admit a blessed thing to this gorgeous tease.

"Don't believe everything you hear, Robin. Especially in Section." He just stared at me. I felt my resolve to keep quiet on the subject of Michael melting. Was it some kind of trick he was doing with his eyes? I just couldn't seem to keep my mouth shut. But I was able to lie. Bully for me.

"Michael and I have no connection other than that he trained me." More staring from Robin. Will I ever find a man who doesn't use staring as a communication device? At least Robin provided a dazzling smile along with his silence. "Michael's complex," I blurted inexplicably.

"We don't really agree on much," I said. What was wrong with me? I have always made it a law not to discuss him with anyone. Well, no one except Walter and Birkoff. They don't count. They're family.

"But ye trrrust him wi yer life?" I must have looked confused. "On a mission," Robin finished. I blinked a few times at him, trying to figure out where we were going with this line of questioning. "I'd feel batter knowin' he war at ma beck, if he's a blowk ye trrust," he explained then, sensing my sudden wariness.

I pinned him with my most serious stare. "I trrrust him like ma brrrither," I said with a nod of my head and a brogue that snuck into my mouth on the last drops of my Guinness.

Robin burst into a hearty laugh and banged the table with his hand. "Weel done, lass. Weel done." He wagged his head in mirth and I watched, fascinated, as his hair caught the dim pub lights, setting up a reddish-gold nimbus that hovered above his head.

He is alluring despite his openness. Must have something to do with the extremely masculine package. Robin is taller than Michael, but not as heavily muscled. His physique is longer and leaner, yet tightly put together. Quite nice. Not that I'm a sucker for broad shoulders, trim hips, rippling muscles, luscious mouths or drop-dead eyes. Look how long I've stayed away from Michael. But let's call a spade a spade: Robin, like Michael, is a thing of beauty. I noticed our waitress was especially attentive. For some reason, Michael doesn't elicit that same kind of response from most people. Gee, I wonder why.

I decided that if I had to be friendly with anyone in Section, it might as well be Robin. I tried to get him to explain how he came to be a part of our whacky world and got nothing but run-around and thicker and thicker Scots-speak. It got to be hilarious as I continually misunderstood him. And when he informed me that as a lad he "yaised to be civered in mair fernitickles thin heer," I threw my hands up in defeat.

After dinner and a few pints more of Guinness, Robin walked me home, his long easy stride reined in to keep from leaving me behind. His movements are fluid, not unlike Michael's. But much more animated, transmitting an air of confidence and an intensity that says he's glad to be alive. Coupled with his height, he is a very comforting presence. At the front door to my building he smiled goodnight and, touching my sleeve lightly," said, "I'll see ye suin." I knew then I'd had too much to drink because I felt a distinct tingle where his fingers had been. I unlocked the door and turned to watch him walk down the sidewalk. He'd taken the tie out of his hair, which fell in thick rivulets past his shoulders and for an odd moment, watching him from the back, I thought his hips seemed to sway just a little and the overall effect was that he suddenly seemed faintly feminine. I shook my head and went inside to bed.

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

Michael

I can't imagine what I was thinking of. I cringe to think my subconscious is so indiscreetly at play while my watchful mind dwells in hatred and grief. It feels disrespectful. Maybe Nikita has been making deeper inroads than I give her credit for. She's been relentless--like a dog whose favorite bone is just out of reach. I told her to go away once and was almost afraid she would. I can't seem to admit how much I need her, even now that she knows everything. Her boundless compassion overwhelms me. Why hasn't Section bled this out of her? What wellspring of goodness does she draw from? It disturbs me. How does she go through this life with feelings so ripe for the hurting and, yet, still offer herself so completely to help another? I guess it was just this line of thinking that made last night happen. I wish I could say it was just a dream. It wasn't "just" anything. It was vivid. It hurt. It was exquisite. I didn't want to wake from it. Now that I have, I want to go back and make it happen again. But first, I need to see Nikita. And, then, there's Robin.

When Madeline called Nikita and me into her office yesterday, I knew we were there to meet a transfer operative who will work with us on the mission in Scotland. Madeline had given me Robin's file to read but I just skimmed it, thinking they'd probably manufactured everything in it. I have become quite jaded and no longer am deluded about the length and depth of Section's malice. So I appeared at the stated time, expecting to meet, greet, and leave. I'm not sure what happened, but it wasn't that. I must be more exhausted than I've been willing to recognize.

I don't normally get blindsided by appearances, but with Robin it's hard to ignore. For some reason I cannot explain, I seem to have a disquieting effect on people, especially those I just meet. Not so with Robin. In fact, just the opposite seemed to happen and, truth be told, it was I who felt uncomfortable. I tried valiantly not to let it show, but I think my anti-people skills are a little rusty right now. I may have shown just a bit of interest. Nikita had a similar reaction, although she's naturally so much more open, it isn't hard to reach her.

The first thing I noted about Robin is that she's very tall. Even by Nikita's standards. I believe I had to look up to her, although I didn't think to check the size of her heels. I was too busy trying not to stare at her hair...or face. It's harder than you might think when you're being addressed by a beautiful woman with laughing chocolate eyes and a smile lit from within. Especially one who purposely ignores the air of disdain you're projecting. Very unnerving. So I tried looking just above the top of her head, but her hair looked like a sunset with vivid streaks of crimson, orange, and gold glinting against the night sky. Oh, stop looking so surprised. Yes, a fully developed heart and intricate emotions reside beneath this rigid exterior. Don't believe me? Keep reading.

When Robin spoke, I was a little surprised by her accent. Of course, I knew she was Scottish, but her brogue was thicker than most, almost like an antiquated tongue. I wondered if I'd read where exactly she hailed from, but, to my chagrin, the information eluded me. My fault for disregarding her file. Nevertheless, the accent caught me off guard (an alarming condition I have sworn to rectify immediately) and I felt mesmerized by it.

Without actually remembering this, we walked down to tactical. What I mean is that I was standing in Madeline's office and then I was standing at the door to tactical. I really need to concentrate. Lately, I keep losing bits of time. Nikita was with us then, but she left after promising to meet Robin for dinner. I didn't want to go. I couldn't bear the thought of having to hold up part of a conversation, especially one in which Nikita was involved. I'm not ready to peer into her sky-blue eyes and pretend there is no pain between us. I couldn't do it. So I said no.

I think it's funny that everyone has an image of me as tough and insensitive. In many ways, I'm a coward. But last night I simply didn't want to feel anything. It's much easier.

Robin and I met with the tactician and discussed specifics regarding ingress and egress. We then went to munitions and met with Walter. At one point, as we compared the relative merits of various weaponry, she did something that, for an instant, seemed like an utterly masculine thing.

When Walter handed her a .357 Magnum, she palmed it, checked the chambers, and held it up to sight down its barrel, using her left bicep as a steadying guide. I realize any good operative handles firearms in much the same manner. It was simply the way she did it. It was not the way a woman does it. I know. I've seen enough. Call me what you will; I am merely observant. We do this differently, men and women. Robin did it like a man.

During all this time together she met my gaze, unperturbed, and I found myself thinking that something else was going on behind those deep eyes; that perhaps she was not who she seemed to be. I discarded this possibility. She's a level four operative. You don't get that far on pretense.

Her knowledge and efficiency concerning the mission were apparent, her professionalism totally in tact. Yet, she maintained a distantly pleasant mood that I could--feel. I kept thinking that the air shimmered around her, between us. Obviously, I had been under far too much strain lately. I was imagining things like auras and charged air. I needed rest.

When we were done with our tasks, Robin asked once again if I would join her and Nikita at dinner. I gave her my usual response: an implacable glare and a simple, "No." Unexpectedly, her full mouth spread in a winsome smile, her eyes, rimmed by long, black lashes, crinkled at the outer corners. Touching my arm lightly with her delicate hand, she nodded and said, "Naw yit. Suin, though." I watched her walk away, her molten hair moving like fire across against the shoulders of her white blouse. A sudden thought leapt into my mind that I wanted more than anything to stroke that hair and bury my face in it. Then I noticed how her curved hips rocked gently beneath her gray slacks as she walked away. I shocked myself with this unbidden lurch into sensual desire and shook my head to clear the image. I rubbed my arm where Robin had touched me. It tickled--even through my jacket.

I went to my quarters (I currently have nowhere else to live), stripped out of my clothes, brushed my teeth, and went to bed, overwhelmingly exhausted.

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

Nikita

I went to bed, but had trouble falling asleep. The lightness I'd felt during dinner with Robin had faded. A cold despair settled over me. Michael has been the focus of my life for so long that to watch him suffer as he has lately has been more than painful for me. Like I said, I was livid about the deceit he had spun around "us" like a spider's web, but then I've lied to him, too. It's the way of our world. What I realized, though, is that never did he tell me something that wasn't true. His sin was one of omission only. Last night as I laid on my bed and stared into the darkness, I had a sudden sense, almost premonition, that things were about to change. That Michael was at a crossroads and could either come to me now, or turn away. One way or the other it would be permanent. Too much Guinness and bangers, you're thinking. So did I.

Somewhere during all this reverie I drifted off to sleep. The last thing I remember thinking was that Robin was the most vibrant person I had ever met, although he hadn't been in my thoughts until that time.

It seemed I hadn't been asleep long when the dream began. I opened my eyes and stared at the ceiling. It wasn't mine. I knew this right away because it was very high, fifteen feet, at least, and because I was looking at it through a gauzy canopy. The place where the wall and ceiling met was a foot deep in heavy carved molding and there were two thickly engraved plaster medallions in the ceiling where chandeliers should have been hanging, but they weren't. There were no lamps, either. Instead, half-way up the walls were lighted candles in sconces at about five-foot intervals all around the room. I stayed lying on my back, arms resting comfortably by my sides and moved my head to look around. Along the wall to my left was a tall chest of drawers made out of dark wood that gleamed in the candlelight. Near the end of that wall was a fireplace surrounded by a classically styled mantlepiece painted a warm cream color. It gleamed against the soft, mossy green of the walls. A well-banked fire burned in the fireplace. I looked toward the foot of the bed. Across the room, against that wall was a desk of the same kind of burnished wood as the dresser. It held at least twenty candlesticks, all burning brightly. Continuing my inspection, I turned my head to the right and saw Michael.

The bed was vast, at least a dozen feet across. He was lying on his side at the far edge, looking at me. He said nothing and gave no indication of how he felt. No smile, no frown, no shrug. Some things don't change--even in dreams. This all seemed perfectly natural; that I should be lying on this mammoth, draped bed in a huge room filled with beautiful antiques and candlelight staring into Michael's fathomless green eyes as he lay on the bed wearing only pajama bottoms. I smiled a little and extended my right arm to him along the bed. More candles on a table along the wall behind him made the skin on the edge of his shoulder, arm and torso look warm and inviting. I thought how much I wanted to touch his smooth skin, to reanimate it and the man trapped way deep inside. Turning onto my side to face him, I blinked slowly and, when I opened my eyes, we were together on a regular queen-size bed, the filmy material still draped all around. We were separated by a space the length of my forearm and hand. "Michael," I said. "I want to help you."

He touched my hand lightly, but there was no meaning behind it. Just a touch. "I don't think you can."

"Can't I try?" I asked, stroking his fingers with my own. I lifted my hand and gently slid it along his skin, from shoulder to waist. His muscles twitched as my hand touched them, each in turn. We still lay on our sides, heads on pillows only inches apart.

"It's too late. There's nothing left inside me that cares." His eyes--so beautiful, so sad--said it all. I tried not to let it hurt me, but failed. I sucked in a deep breath, trying to regain control of my feelings. There was nothing left but to speak the truth.

"I love you, Michael." It felt right to say it. Only in dreams.... He didn't say anything, but as I stroked his arm and then his cheek, he lowered his gaze. It was almost demure. When he raised his eyes, tears shimmered at the rims, but still he was silent. Sitting up, he swung his legs over the edge of the high bed and, parting the sheer drapery, stood. Then he began pacing the enormous room, arms held tightly in a self hug. I scrambled over to the edge of the bed and slid off. That was when I noticed that I was wearing a long, white gown of soft gossamer lace. Thin straps went over my shoulders to connect to the top edge of the gown. Obviously not my own sleeping attire, but I liked it. Watching Michael stalk around the room before the hundreds of candles, I realized his loose pants were of a see-through material like that on the bed. Hmmm. A very enticing vision.

I stepped into his path so that he had to either stop or make a point of going around me. He stopped. I think that was the first he really looked at me. His eyes were suddenly more alert as they searched my face then slowly slid down to take in my gown and bare feet. I could feel his gaze come gradually back up my body as plainly as if he were touching me. He lifted his arms to either side of my face and took my hair in his hands, pulling it backward off my neck. He leaned very close to me until our bodies made just the slightest connection. A patch of heat sprung up between my legs, spreading rapidly to even my most distant nerve endings. I wanted Michael desperately. He leaned a fraction closer and I felt his desire in return, like little sparks leaping through space to complete an electrical current. I literally salivated at the idea of kissing his mouth. He stared deeply into my eyes then shut his, taking in a deep breath. As I lifted my own hands to touch his arms where they cradled my neck, a figure emerged from the shadowed corner of the room.

With two long strides, Robin was standing next to us. I know I was confused, but Michael looked just plain bewildered. Robin's pale torso shone in the candlelight. Baggy pajama bottoms, like Michael's, hung from low on his hips. His silken hair was tied back in a low ponytail. He faced the two of us and fixed his eyes on Michael. "Tak yer ands off er. Naoo," he commanded softly in his deep voice.

Michael stared intently at Robin as if trying to remember where he knew him from. But he didn't flinch and he didn't move his hands away.

Robin moved around to the other side, until he was between us and the bed. "Don't mak this sae hard on yesel, Mykil. Step away."

"Why?" I asked. It didn't occur to me to ask him why he was there, I was just curious why he was behaving this way.

"In minute, lass. Fairst, we need to git this mon whaur he belongs." He stepped a little closer.

Michael's arms moved a little, like he was going to lower them, but then he lashed out with his right arm, going for Robin's throat. Usually quicker than any human has a right to be, Michael was off his mark this time, and Robin grabbed the oncoming arm, twisting it to throw Michael off balance. On his knees with an arm wrenched behind his back, Michael snaked a leg out to knock Robin off his feet. The men were then a pile of writhing limbs and grunts until, suddenly, Robin was on his feet, clasping Michael tightly around his upper arms and chest. With a power that seemed supernatural, Robin tossed Michael onto the left side of the bed, and climbed on top of him, straddling his waist.

And where was I during all of this? Just standing in the middle of the room, watching. It was a dream, remember? I thought about interfering, but a voice in my head cautioned me to stay out of it. So, I did.

Robin took Michael's wrists in his own hands and very deliberately extended first one arm then the other over Michael's head so that they were lying on the piles of pillows at the head of the bed. Michael's fists were clenched and his muscles flexed with effort, but he was unable to move his arms. His legs lay splayed on the bed, muscles bunched and straining, but they didn't move. Robin's face was only inches above Michael's as he continued to hold down his wrists. I heard a low chuckle and some mumbled words from Robin then the strangest thing happened.

Robin lowered his head and kissed Michael full on the lips. This was no quick peck. Their lips locked and Robin was clearly putting some feeling into it. I didn't notice that Michael was trying to pull away, either. Robin lifted up and slowly drew his hands away from Michael's wrists. "Lie still," he commanded. His voice was low, soft, neutral. Nevertheless, he had delivered an order. "Don't mak a soond. Yer naw invited--naw jest yit," he added with a look that was as provocative as any overt comment. Michael stared hard at Robin, but didn't say another word. And, other than a few feeble twitches, he didn't make any effort to get up after Robin crawled off of him and padded in his bare feet back to where I still stood in the middle of the floor. Standing only inches in front of me, Robin looked earnestly at me with those coffee-dark eyes and said, "Ye rrreddy?"

And, you know what I did? Bless me, it was all my own fault. I just nodded, unable to stop staring at that face!

Without further ado, he put a big hand around the back of my neck, pulling me close as he leaned down for a kiss. I've been kissed by plenty of men. Most aren't worth mentioning. But this.... When our lips touched, it was like brushing against velvet. At first. As his tongue began to play with my lips and enter my mouth, I felt energy soar through my body from my toes and fingers inward. I grabbed his neck, too, thinking I just couldn't let go of this kiss. The energy rush from my extremities met in the vicinity of my heart and stomach with a sensation like a physical blow. I yanked away from him as my breath was expelled by the force.

He grinned at me and said, "Aye, felt guid, dinnit?"

I looked away, trying to regain my breath and my mind. Unfortunately, I'd chosen to look in the general direction of the bed where Michael still laid stretched helpless to move, although there was no obvious reason for it. His expression was strained, anxious. He said my name and I knew he was asking me to stop. But for all the world, this felt like the right thing to do at that moment.

I started to say so when Robin spoke first.

"Hae ye airned the rrright to awsk enathin of this leddy?" And before Michael or I could say anything, Robin continued. "I telt ye to kip quiet." He didn't raise his voice or scold. It was all very matter-of-fact.

He finished his little lecture by touching his fingers to my chin, directing my attention back to his eyes--and lips. He stepped toward me. I stepped back. He came forward again. Again I backed up. We inched ourselves this way around to the foot of the bed where he finally reached out, laying his hand on my arm. Standing with his back to the bed, he pulled me against him.

Blinded by the smoldering depths of his stare, I let him kiss me and this time as that energy surged into my midsection, I kissed him deeper and felt his body stiffen against mine.

I struggled away from his grasp--but not to escape. I wanted to get a good look at him now that we were near the fireplace. He gladly accommodated, standing casually, arms hanging loosely at his sides, an all-out sultry gaze dared me to touch. He was a giant aphrodisiac. I smiled. It got bigger as I trailed my fingertips over his etched shoulders, down his chest, through a small thicket of curly reddish-brown hair, then along the narrow line of dark hair that led into his pants. I knelt before him and tucked my fingers into the elastic waistband and pulled down, very slowly. There was a long, thick obstacle in the way and I paid careful attention to getting the pajamas safely over it. As the pants fell to the floor, my smile was replaced by a gasp of pleasure. Robin was supremely endowed and showing signs of enthusiasm for our game.

He sparkled in the light from the fireplace as it reflected off the fine red-gold hair of his arms and legs. The flicker of hundreds of candle flames on his hair caused an amber halo of light to swathe his head. Frankly, I was very excited. I ran my hands up and down over the springy hair of his long legs and buried my nose and mouth in his groin, dispensing nips and kisses. I let my hands drift upward to his buttocks, kneading and grasping, all the while teasing him with my mouth until his organ shifted at the touch of my tongue. The head emerged from its sheath of skin, stretching downward to an impossible length. I couldn't resist and brought a hand around front to stroke him. At my slightest stroke, it jutted outward growing harder and harder until it was straining skyward. I knew I was going to have some fun. I licked his considerable length from underneath then slowly sucked one of his balls into my mouth, caressing it with my tongue.

My fingers gently tended to the other. His feet firmly planted, Robin swayed like a tall pine against a brisk wind. A sound like a breeze in the treetops was Robin sucking in air preceding a low moan.

I think I could have stayed there forever, but Robin had other plans. Drawing me upward, he massaged and kissed my neck then slid the thin straps of the nightgown off my shoulders. He leaned into me, offering another earth-moving kiss. My arms hung uselessly at my sides as the surge of this kiss exploded near my lungs and my gown drifted lazily to the floor.

Now Robin's hands explored my body. Every pore in my skin seemed to open wide awaiting the sensation of being touched. With his fingers resting lightly on my hips, he turned us around so that I was next to the foot of the bed. In a fluid motion, he brushed his hands up my sides, drawing my arms outward then up and turned me like a ballerina. I faced the bed as he guided my hands onto the wooden bar of the canopy. My fingers latched on and I found myself staring at Michael through the diaphanous curtain. He strained against those invisible bonds, but didn't speak. Yet, in my head, I heard his low voice begging me to stop. I felt a stab of guilt.

"Why dae ye consairn yesel wi him? Ye dayserve tae be fulfilled, Nehkita," Robin murmured in my ear. "Don't warry yesel wi Mykil, he'll be tekin care of."

I had no idea what he meant, but I believed it would be all right and closed my eyes to Michael's plight. This was my time. Robin was right. The only feelings I remembered any more were pain and loneliness. Enough was enough. If this is how I could feel good again, then I was going for it.

Robins hands and tongue were everywhere along my backside. Kneeling behind me, he nudged my feet apart, spread my buttocks and let his tongue explore. I went weak in the knees and remained upright only because my hands were locked for dear life around that bar way above my head. I felt him stand, rubbing his body slowly against mine on the way up. Warm arms encircled me, hands massaging my breasts, fingertips teasing my nipples. My head lolled backward and I stole a kiss from that sweet mouth, bracing for and accepting the current that swept through me. I felt his erection tapping at my entrance from behind. I was dripping wet with hunger for him, for it.

He picked me up and carried me to the side of the bed, laying me on it next to Michael. I was propped against dozens of plush pillows, my legs spread in hopeful anticipation. Robin crawled on hands and knees to kneel between my legs, his cock still standing at the ready. I stared into his eyes for several moments and could see in them a combination of his natural good humor and blatant sexual desire.

Apparently, Michael saw it, too. Saying my name with urgency, he began to sit up. Robin's eyes drifted lazily from my own to Michael's. "Lie still," he commanded in that soft voice. Moving languidly, he placed his left hand on Michael's thigh and squeezed lightly. "She needs me naoo, naw ye." Michael stared hard at Robin, but didn't say another word. After a moment, he lowered his head and shoulders. His expression (yes! there was one!) was wary, angry. There might have even been some jealousy. I didn't know anymore if Michael cared for me. I doubted it. Robin returned his gaze and hand to me in that same slow-motion way. Bending forward, he kissed me on the lips then slowly moved straight down my middle, kissing at about half-inch intervals. All the while his hands fluttered between my legs, tempting, teasing. At long, long last, he reached my mound and parted me in an agonizingly slow way. Aching to have his tongue and lips on me I wiggled beneath him and placed my hands on the back of his head. His hair felt as soft as it was beautiful. I felt his fingers dip deep inside me, bringing my juices back out to spread over my clit, massaging, playing. In a frenzy of yearning, I pulled at the tie in his hair, unleashing his fiery hair to flow around his shoulders, completely obscuring his face from my view. With my hands on his head and shoulders, helping guide him in his oral work, I felt the muscles ripple under his skin all across his back and through his arms. The sensation heightened the one growing deep inside of me. His head worked up and down furiously, his lips on the ones between my legs, his tongue beating at that tiny receptacle of a million nerve endings. I felt the orgasm starting so deep and distant it felt like a tiny ripple that begins at shore and travels across a vast sea to end in a tidal wave on the other side. I was engulfed by it.

Robin lifted his head from my crotch and got gracefully to hands and knees. My breath, which had been coming in short gasps, stopped altogether. I stared into familiar eyes but they were now in a completely feminine face. It was Robin's face, only a woman's version. And, I discovered with a quick glance, the body was female, too. I gasped and twisted my head on the pillow to look at Michael, only inches away. Did he see this? Him? Her? Yes, indeedy, I could tell he did. The look on his face went from furious to complete acceptance in an instant. Hmmm, curiouser and curiouser....That same voice, just a couple octaves higher escaped from the same ample lips.

"Des this bother ye?" she asked.

Compelled by some unknown force, I answered honestly. "No," I breathed out slowly.

"Guid," she smiled back at me before lowering her body fully onto mine and kissing me deeply, letting me taste my own juices and setting off more inner fireworks. Tentatively I lifted my hands to caress her back, easing them downward to her buttocks and back up. I let my hands get tangled in her glorious hair, which felt like the fallout from a handful of sparklers as it fell across my skin.

She lifted up enough for me to feel the tips of her full breasts--much bigger than my own--tickle my chest. Now I know what guys get so worked up over. It felt wonderful. Ducking her head to suckle my own nipples, she wriggled between my legs, setting up the start of more deep vibrations. "Wait," I said plaintively. She looked up at me and raised her brows. "Let me," I said.

"Gladly," she smiled with Robin's broad mouth.

We flipped ourselves over and I went to work on her luscious breasts. I loved the feel of her flat stomach and small waist above deeply curving hips. I slid downward along one of her legs, rubbing my nub back and forth and pulled back the lips that surrounded hers. It sat up stiff and engorged. I tugged on her inner lips with my fingers and lapped up the whiteness that seeped out of her. I set my tongue on that small, eager place, tickling, sucking. It seems it took no more than seconds before both she and I came with a chorus of grunts and moans. I sat back up between her legs.

If you could have seen what I looked at then on that bed of silk, softly lit all around by miniature flames, you would not have been able to stop, either. Surely you realize by now that Robin was not only working magic on himself--herself?--but on Michael and me, too. My inhibitions (okay, not exactly my strong suit, but still I have them) had evaporated. I was willing to do anything for pleasure. It felt so good to feel--well, good! I looked next to us on the bed to where Michael was still invisibly bound and gagged, his arms and legs immobilized, but I could see other things were happening. His chest was heaving with breaths that were coming out harshly between parted lips. Those astonishing lips. God, I love those lips. Sorry. Where was I? Oh yes, the breathing. See the ribs, now you don't, now you see them, now you don't. Up and down his chest moved with the effort of staying controlled. It was obvious he was losing the battle and his breathing wasn't the only telltale sign. At that moment as I feasted my eyes on first Michael then Robin with her lush body waiting for me, I wanted Michael to be enjoying this as much as I was.

"Wha is it, Nehkita? Do ye rilly care wha happens to him? Has e given ye eny rrreason to care?"

Robin rubbed my forearm gently. The hands were now so much smaller, but their warmth and tenderness were the same as earlier.

Michael and I stared at each other for a few heartbeats. His mouth said nothing. His eyes pleaded for understanding. "Yes," I said.

"Do ye want him to hae comfort, then?"

"Um hum," I said, tiling my head to the side to better look into his eyes.

Robin sat up in a smooth, graceful movement. The ends of her hair fluttered over her shoulders and across the tops of her breasts. She embraced me and we kissed. It felt like two friends of like minds, making a pact. We would make Michael feel better. But, oops, I had it wrong. The next thing I knew, she had extricated her long legs from around me, gotten between me and Michael and was gently pushing my shoulders to lie down in the pillows. She pulled my arms up by the wrists, stretching them over my head, the same way she'd done Michael's (that is, when she was he...well, you know). Another slow, languorous kiss, and she gently backed away from me, leaving my hands somehow pinned above my head on the pillows and my bent legs useless. In a way, it was even more exciting: it was my turn to watch.

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

Michael

What did I tell you about my state of mind? I said I was exhausted. I said I needed to concentrate and that I'd been losing pieces of time. This dream experience just proves it. I admitted earlier that I am something of a coward when it comes to emotional entanglements. If you'd been down the twisted road I've been on half my life, you'd be a little cautious, too. You know the history (no matter which version you choose to believe) so I don't need to remind you that until recently I'd been able to safely compartmentalize myself--the feeling side kept separate from the doing part. Whatever grip my heart had on me was weakened from decades of disuse. My actions rarely coincided with my emotions, arising instead from pure reaction. I don't think I can claim this duality any more. Not after last night.

I don't remember going to sleep. I closed my eyes in a three-foot-wide cot and opened them in a massive bed that was as wide as some rooms. Nikita was there. Except for a few precious times, this has happened only in my dreams. My first impression of the room, the bed, the place was that I was in someone else's dream. I don't tend toward the romantic in my fantasies. Yes, yes--I have fantasies; doesn't everyone? This room was full-fledged romance, from the diaphanous canopy dripping all around the silk-dressed bed to the hundreds of lighted candles that made Nikita's hair look like rays of sunlight. This was a romantic's dream--man or woman. But we've already established that I am not one. So why was I here?

I closed my eyes and rubbed them. There was a shift of air, of existence. I opened my eyes and stared into the sea-blue of Nikita's. We were just inches apart on the bed, which now seemed normal-sized. But the fabric still hung all around us. She spoke of loving me and I felt a crush of sorrow in my chest. I cannot keep opening myself to such pain. I will be useless. So I rolled off the bed--it was considerably higher than average--trying to put some distance between me and the one person left on this planet who can hurt me. But you know Nikita. She loves a challenge.

Sure enough, she came off the bed to stand in front of me, demanding a confrontation. Dear heaven, she was breathtaking. I dragged my mind away from it's job as emotional watchdog to wonder if she always wore such enticing sleepwear. Thin straps over her softly muscled shoulders held up a gown of delicate lace through which I caught a glimpse of curving hip and thigh, and the tips of dark pink nipples against the material as it moved. My eyes trailed up her body taking it all in, up the length of her white neck and over the angle of her strong jaw, across her pillow-plump lips and into a pair of eyes that waited expectantly, offering me everything, anything to trust in her and be saved.

I gave in. I am only human. (I know this has been a topic of hot debate--but it is true.) I stepped up to her so that those pink tips brushed against my chest through her flimsy gown. Inexplicably, I was wearing loose pajama bottoms made of very sheer material. It would be easy to discern my feelings if I let things continue. Oh well. Her silken hair begged to be fondled and I obliged, lifting it in my hands and pulling it back across her shoulders. I closed my eyes and breathed in.

A person can smell like many things, but there is no other smell like sex. When it is present, it eclipses all else. Nikita was immersed in it. Well, I suppose I could have been contributing to the sensory overload.

I would like to say that it was my preoccupation with Nikita's scent that allowed me to be caught off guard, but the truth is I did feel the air bend. Moments ago when the bed had changed sizes and earlier when I'd been awake at Section with Robin there had been the same movement of space, like a fissure in time. I felt it this time, too, but chose to ignore it in favor of indulging my senses. Thus, when the tall man appeared at our sides, I was alarmed. First, I had allowed this stranger to intrude without resistance. Secondly, he was threatening me and I was at a disadvantage in every way from my physical stance to my lack of emotional guard. Thirdly, and most unsettling, I had an overwhelming suspicion that I knew him, but could not decide how. He was taller than me by several inches. Cocoa eyes looked sternly into mine, as if admonishing.

Such audacity! As he moved around us and I caught a glimpse of the long, glowing auburn hair that was tied at the nape of his neck, I knew why he seemed familiar. But I had no recollection of reading anything about Robin having a brother, much less a twin. Nikita reacted strangely in that she didn't seem to think anything was unusual.

The following events are as warped in time as they were in deed. I remember trying to fight the man. I am quite strong, but he had brawn that was nearly otherworldly and, after a concerted effort on my part, I was unceremoniously dumped onto the bed. Adding insult to my injured pride, the man leapt on top of me, performing some sorcery that rendered my limbs useless and my mouth mute. His large hands were like steel bands around my wrists far above my head, his face suspended just inches above mine. Fuck you! my mind screamed. An absurd and childish curse, I realize, but the best I could do in the circumstances.

He smiled, laughing softly. "Obsolutely. Jest wet yer tairn," he drawled and sealed it with a kiss. Going to Nikita, he left me gasping from shock--not so much from the surreal situation or even his passionate kiss--more from the effect of it. Fingers and toes tingled like they had gone to sleep; then rapidly the sensitive and painful feelings surged through my nerves to meet with a small explosion somewhere under my ribs. I liked it.

What happened next was hidden from my view, thankfully, by both the filmy drapes surrounding the bed and the man's backside, which was clad exactly the same as my own. Nikita, who showed some common sense in backing away from the big man, was drawn in by his seductive power as they came to stand together at the foot of the bed. From the bright light cast by the adjacent fireplace I could see, even through the sheer drapery, the moment when she fell into his spell. The next thing I knew she was attending to his body in a very intimate way. From their mingled moans and groans I think it is safe to say they were both enjoying themselves. I struggled against the invisible restraints, calling to her. But my words merely echoed back inside my head where they were trapped with only me to hear. I don't know if I was more angry or jealous. I know this: there were some powerful endorphins pulsing through me and I thought I would be able to overcome the spell that kept me tethered to the bed. And I might have succeeded if I hadn't been overcome just then by the sight of Nikita's face and breasts pressed lightly against the sheer fabric hanging at my feet.

Her arms stretched upward, making her look like she was suspended from the canopy along with the drapery through which I watched her breasts and hips get caressed by another man's hands, her lips seek his and her face flush with lust for him. I felt like a madman. And, again, I think I would have broken free had the couple not then come to lay on the bed next to me.

He carried her and set her down among the pillows. She had eyes only for him, seeming oblivious to me only inches away. When he climbed up to perch on his bent knees between her spread legs, I got a good look at why. Whatever magic lent him supernatural powers extended to his physical charms as well. I've seen many naked men but I've never seen one with--how shall I put this--so much to offer. I'm not one to feel insecure about my own body and, oddly, I didn't now, although I could have had reason. I think I was as enthralled by the man as Nikita was. Well, maybe not quite.

But a moment of lucidity broke through the enchantment and I managed to sit up weakly, crying out her name in a vain effort to bring her back to her senses. The man turned deep eyes to me, scolding me quietly. He placed a large hand on my thigh and through the flimsy fabric I wore I felt the heat of his touch spread to my groin. Unexpectedly, the fabric began to tent upward as my body responded of its own accord to his touch. This wasn't what I meant to do. Stop it! I ordered myself. But no luck. The rest of my body followed his command to lie down and my arms reached back over my head of their own volition, finding the places in the pillows where they had previously lain captive. The man slowly drew his hand away from my leg and set his sights on Nikita.

This time I didn't have to listen to figure out what was happening. It all took place just centimeters to my left. What's more, Nikita, in a fit of passion, reached over to me, clutching my arm before groaning deeply and placing her hands on the man's head, actively at work between her thighs. No, no, no! I screamed silently. Get away from her! But no one heard except me. I tried shutting my eyes and ears, but to no avail. Nikita's body was radiating heat that scorched along my left side, climbing up over my hip for a further assault between my legs.

Risking a peek, I opened my eyes to discover that my cock had in fact pushed it's way under the elastic band of the pajamas and was straining upward toward my ribs. It's hole was gaping a bit, the whole thing pulsing madly on its own as my ears filled with Nikita's rhythmic groans. When she erupted with pleasure inside, a guttural groan escaped through her lips, and I felt warm drops of fluid drip onto my stomach.

It was then that I decided if I was stuck in this Cyprian dream, I might as well give myself over to it. My body was doing it's best to ignore my mind, anyway. And, besides, it was only sex.

Nikita's eyes were staring sightlessly at the canopy far above our heads, her breathing ragged, lost in her sensual delight. She looked down as the man slowly got to his hands and knees. I think I saw the change before she did. And for some ridiculous reason I was not only not shocked, I was immensely pleased. I heard Nikita gasp and tore my eyes away from the full, heavy breasts that swung freely above Nikita's to look her in the eyes. To say she was shocked would be an understatement. It must have been something in my look that appeased her because the next thing I heard her say was that she did not mind being made love to by Robin. The female Robin, that is. The one I was familiar with. I think I had suspected all along, and that is why I found it comforting when she shifted into her natural self.

And I didn't mind when this Robin lowered herself back on to Nikita and they began once again to arouse each other. In fact, I confess, it was enormously erotic. I feared I would lose control before I had a chance to participate. Don't ask me how, but I knew with certainty, that if I could only maintain my composure for a while longer, I would be deeply rewarded.

It began almost immediately as I heard Nikita beg for the chance to pleasure Robin. I watched, mesmerized, as these two exquisite women played with each other's bodies, touching just so, bringing about a state of arousal in them both that was excruciating to watch, yet I couldn't stop.

To make matters worse (or better?), as Nikita's head dipped between Robin's legs, the amorous redhead turned her face toward mine only inches away on the pillows. I fell into an abyss of lust that began in her dark, dark eyes. Soon! Someone must help me soon or I will die from this teasing. Please! Touch me! And her soft, wet lips were on mine, answering my silent plea.

Her tongue explored my mouth and I gave back as a good as I got. But still, I was immobilized. With our mouths clasped and her hand on my chest, fingers fondling a nipple, I both heard and felt her orgasm. It was echoed from further down the bed as Nikita found release a second time.

Robin pulled away from me, licking her lips which curled in a sensual smile. With her head on Robin's belly, Nikita gave her a hug, then sat up. I lay gasping. Try as I might, I could not help that I was aroused. Nikita's flaxen hair was tousled around her beautiful face. A face I had looked at so many times, purposely avoiding the truth: I would go to my grave for this face and the heart and soul that sustained it. And, right now, I seemed perilously close to achieving that end if I were not released from this slavish position and allowed to consummate my feelings. I stared into her shocking blue eyes. They stared back, a wistful look in them. Oh yes! It had worked! She heard me, I was to be released! But wait--what was this? Nikita was now being lowered and pinned by the unseen restraints against the bank of pillows. I want Nikita, I yelled at Robin, who I know could hear me, even if my mouth didn't produce the words. I was ignored.

I'm not sure I want to relay exactly what happened after that. It's not that I was embarrassed. Quite the contrary, I felt elemental; grounded in feelings that were basic to human life. It's just that I was not accustomed to being the led versus the leader. The recipient instead of the giver. In this instance, I was utterly at someone else's mercy and my body was surrendering itself. My mind was on the verge of deserting me and my emotions lay unprotected, stripped bare of all covers and guards. That's where the shame, if there is any, lies. I am not supposed to concede.

Ever.

Robin's soft, voluptuous body was all over mine. Her hands in my hair. Her mouth on my face, kissing my eyelids. Tongue all along my neck. Breath in my ear, sending chills shooting down my leg. Fingers touched and taunted my skin. Hair fell like curtains of satin, emitting a small heatwave that warmed everything it touched. And I--I was not allowed to do anything back save what I could manage with my mouth and a few pathetic bumps and grinds of my pelvis. A large, firm nipple brushed my mouth. I opened wide and took in as a much as I could, sucking, licking, nibbling. Groans filled the air. I don't know whose. It didn't matter. They merely added to the atmosphere.

My erection had reached nearly epic proportions by now, straining past my midsection, the pajamas all but lost. Robin worked them down and off my feet, slithering back up the length of my body, to first lie full length upon me, rubbing all her soft, rounded parts mercilessly against my decidedly hard and angular ones. Then she straddled my hips, her cleft moist and open, rubbing along the underside of my cock, which lay exposed and vulnerable to her touch. After anointing every inch of my torso with her tongue and an occasional bite, she lifted my dick from its bed along my stomach and slowly, slowly worked her tongue all around its rim and into its small notch. Catching dribbles of my anticipation on the tip of her tongue, she spread it around her lips with a lazy lick. I watched, enthralled, as her lips engulfed my cock and, in agonizingly slow motion, the whole length of it disappeared down her throat. A sound from the bottom of my being rumbled upward and out through my mouth as a I headed down a spiral of delirium.

Falling, falling, I thought I would die of the ecstasy when suddenly the warmth of that tunnel disappeared to be replaced with cool air. Robin had lifted her head from between my legs and was blowing gently along my shaft. Aaahhh! No! Don't stop! Again, no one heard but me. She straddled me once more, again pressing against me but not letting me in. She leaned down to kiss me long and deep, creating more internal combustion that failed to find a way out and only pushed me closer to insanity. I gnawed at her lips, thrusting my tongue as deeply into her mouth as was possible. It was a poor substitute for I wished to be doing, but sometimes we have to take what we can get. Her body rippled against mine, shuddering. At last, pulling away from my mouth, she breathed into my ear, saying in a husky voice, "I've chenged--" here she lifted up on hugely muscled arms and I stared into the big man's handsome face, "--my mind," he finished with a wink.

We stared into each other's eyes for many moments; I trying to read his intentions while searching for my own feelings about this new arrangement, he sending smoldering glances that swept over my face like a hot wind. I didn't realize I'd communicated any agreement, but he then proceeded as though I had given him a hearty pat on the back and my blessings to ravage my already strained body.

Pulling away from me, he sat on his heels between me and Nikita. Her eyes had grown wide at the sight of this Robin once again proudly displaying his loaded gun, as it were. I admit I was feeling a little smug for having held out so long, but this display was so lust producing I felt sure I was about to lose this battle of wills. I closed my eyes to be rid of the sight and saw it played back against my eyelids. Then I slipped another notch into total abandon.

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

Nikita

How can I account for my wanton behavior? Especially with Michael literally next to me? I can't. I have no explanation. It's as if my secret, fantasy self overtook the real me, leaving me free to explore, experience, exalt in the forbidden. I was enraptured by Robin in all his and her forms and even more so by the knowledge that Michael lay helpless, watching. Now, I was being forced to witness Michael strain against his powerlessness, his body clearly aching to be plundered. It was the most erotic thing I've ever seen. My body trembled with the urge to blend with his; my mind screamed silently, let me have him! But it was Robin who got to taste the treats, to bring Michael to the edge time and again, only to pull away and leave him gasping and pleading with his eyes for an end.

Now Robin, the man, was between us. His stiff cock was thrumming the air like a heat-seeking missile searching for its target. Oh God, I wanted it to be me. But after stroking me all over with those long fingers, Robin turned to Michael and crawled on top with his knees under Michael's armpits and sat lightly on his chest. He let his huge erection lay along Michael's jaw and rubbed it gently along the side of his face. Michael never took his eyes from Robin's.

"D'ye want some o' this?" Robin's voice was thick, like he was strangling on his own desire.

Michael's breathing was noisy. Even I knew the answer to that one. It would be hard to mistake his heaving chest, slack mouth, and pinpoint eyes for anything but pure sexual need. Gripping the bed's high headboard, Robin raised onto his knees, letting his cock bob over Michael's open mouth. Small globules of excitement dripped into that eager mouth, where his tongue flicked upward to catch them, swirling the slickness around its source. Lips greedily taking what he could from the awkward angle. I ripped my gaze away from what was happening between them to look up at Robin's face. His eyes held fast to Michael's face, his jaw clenched, his breathing loud. He teased and teased Michael then abruptly turned away, coming to me. I opened my mouth to take up where Michael had left off. This man was so thick, I had trouble getting my mouth around the head of it. But I sure gave it a good try. All I could think of was getting my hands free to feel him. And then I did start to feel, all over again, that deep tingling that feels at its source almost like the onset of good sneeze. Up, up, up it welled until, with Robin's cock in my mouth, I came yet again.

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

Michael

I made a sound then. It came out of my toes and gathered force until it worked its way out of my mouth in a menacing growl.

"Are ye needin some attention, Mykil?" Robin said, lifting his head from kissing Nikita's mouth.

He licked his lips. "Be patient," he said. The corner of his mouth turned up in a smirk. This angered me as I hate having my own words thrown back in my face and I knew full well that somehow Robin knew these were my exact words to Nikita some time ago. I saw in her eyes a mischievous glint at Robin's command and I grew angrier.

***********

Nikita

I nearly died when Robin told Michael to be patient. Now, if only Robin would tell him to get over it.... Somehow, in spite of Robin's spell a burble of laughter escaped my lips and I laid back into the deep pillows, filled with contentment. Michael shot me a look that could kill. I was immune. I was too high on pheromones. But, then, Robin's role, which had been somewhat gentle up to that point, took on an aggressive tone that set my skin prickling with anticipation.

With blinding speed, he grabbed Michael by the hips and whipped his body around so that his head was near my thighs and his legs were dangling from the side of the bed. Robin stood at the edge of the bed and forced Michael's legs upward. Candlelight backlit the scene casting a glow like a sunset around Robin's naked form. His long hair seemed fuller, like it was full of energy and, in fact, it seemed to shine from within.

**********

Michael

It takes a lot to make me angry, but I'd suffered enough. I was pissed off. This goliath now had my ass hanging off the bed and was pushing my legs upward to rest against his shoulders. My arms were again thrown over my head and useless, the left one draped over Nikita's leg now that I was sideways on the bed. My right was in the vicinity of her face--I felt her nuzzle my palm, planting kisses there. I could not even use my fingers to touch her back. Acting like he owned me, Robin lifted his massive cock and laid it alongside my own on my stomach. I wanted to rip his throat out.

For a second I thought I would get the chance. He leaned forward, tongue dipping toward my face, and I focused on his jugular thinking that I could bury my teeth there, ending his life and this torturous dream. But as he leaned over me, his large hands encased my shoulders then drew slowly downward over by chest and stomach and that tongue licked my nipples. With his head bent, his flowing hair fell all about me, setting up little pinpricks of wonderful pain everywhere it touched. But his throat never got close enough for me to damage.

Standing upright again between my raised legs, Robin casually rubbed one of his big hands along my hard cock and the other on his own, like he was perfectly used to having two. Up and down went his hands, slow and steady, grip firm. There went my head. I was beginning to think I would black out from the tension and pleasure. Just then, he leaned forward reaching his hand past my head, I couldn't see where. Nikita moaned and I felt her hips wiggle just beyond the top of my head. Robin stood again and displayed two slippery wet fingers, which he seductively stuck in his mouth and sucked, never taking his eyes from mine, nor his other hand from my person. Loud groaning filled the room. I think it was mine and Nikita's together. I couldn't stand any more. Fuck you! Fuck you! I screamed it over and over in my mind. Robin stood braced against my ass, branding me with the hottest glare. I knew he heard me screaming.

"Wha is it yer wantin?" he rumbled in a husky voice.

I kept screaming in my head, fuck you!

"Nae, say it alood. Go ahaid, tell me wha' ye want."

I opened my mouth and the words croaked out. "Fuck me."

"As ye wish."

I did say it. I can't say I didn't. At this point I think I could have said anything and it would not have surprised me. I heard Nikita whimper.

Robin leaned forward and once more gathered her juices while planting a deep kiss on my aching mouth. Then his slick fingers were playing with my asshole and I was sure I was gone.

"Naw yit, ye don't," he murmured, squeezing the base of my dick while his fingers prepared my hole for what I most feared and wanted. I do not care, I do not feel, I do not care. I retreated as quickly as I could into the shell I've grown for just such occasions. I've endured many debasing and demeaning assaults in my line of work. Not only am I expected to tolerate these small tortures with fortitude, I am also to emerge with pride and dignity intact. No, I don't know why they think this is reasonable, but they do. And, having been in Section's embrace for longer than I can remember, I do it. And, really, after years of conditioning, I can withstand most anything and not care.

I suppose here is also where I confess that this was not my first time with a man. I've done everything imaginable and then some at Section's command. What is it to give over a physical body to sexual release, or even pleasure, when I've had to give over my heart in a loveless marriage and my soul.... To be honest, I don't dislike sex with a man. It serves a need when necessary and in some cases, this one in particular, the other participant is phenomenally arousing, making it completely enjoyable. The part that I hated was being at his mercy. I would have felt the same if he was a woman--and he was, wasn't he? You see, it made no difference. I was furious that I had no control over the matter.

And so I was fighting against his intrusion with what little might I had left. Not because I didn't want it--I did, desperately. But because I hadn't been able to choose how or what or with whom.

Slowly, inexorably he penetrated, filling me up with a sensation unlike any other. Deep inside he struck my gland, over and over, making my cock harden beyond reason and pump the air seeking release. I had closed my eyes and I think I made sounds, but they were nothing like human words. I heard him in my head telling me to open my eyes. I did and took in the sight of his splendid body taut, shining from exertion and that wild glowing hair flying around his shoulders as he pumped his body into mine. His mind words talked to me again, telling me to feel this, feel everything. Feel your life, his voiceless words said in my head. Feel your life, his words pounded into my head with the rhythm of his thrusts. Feel your life.

*********

Nikita

Every muscle in Michael's body tightened and flexed. He struggled and writhed against the unseen shackles that kept him from taking charge of his situation. I knew this was killing him. He cannot stand to be out of control. But, damn, it looked good.

I watched these two exquisite men having sex like I've never even dreamt of and wished with all my might I could join them. But suddenly, I felt a wave of sadness as, from my peculiar angle, I watched Robin have Michael--in every sense. It was as if with each thrust, Robin was stealing a little of Michael's being, stripping him down to sheer vulnerability.

********

Michael

As satisfying as Robin was, I suddenly felt overcome with a need apart from exploding in orgasm. All the little compartments that had held my secrets, my passions, my dreams came rushing together in an agonizing lump in my chest. I felt like I would burst as much from the need for a companionable soul as from the effects of Robin's lascivious ravages.

Pounding sex with a man--no matter how erotic--was not going to take away the gnawing ache inside my gut. Nikita was who I wanted. She can provide it all. The sex, the beauty, the compassion, the devotion, the freedom to let myself go. The place to lay my tired, tired head and know that I will wake in her care, protected and loved. I want Nikita, I screamed silently at Robin, whose deep, dark eyes pierced me with his passion. He slowed his thrusts and very slowly and deliberately pulled out leaving just his cock head inside of me. Gradually he slid himself back inside until I felt the considerable full length of him. He leaned over me until his mouth was just above mine and I felt the heat of his glare.

"Are ye denyin' me, then?" said the voice in my head.

Sonofabitch. Just get done and let me have what I need, I answered back with my own mind words.

He chuckled and I felt his body rumble against mine. Then he did the most amazing thing. He curled his back upward but kept his head down, kissing my neck and chest. The next thing I knew, he was sucking my cock while slowly pumping away at my ass. I'm ashamed to admit that I whimpered, mewled, something. It wasn't very manly. Yet, I didn't come and I can't for the life of me figure out why. Must have been some of that magic. I guess it served some useful purpose after all....

*******

Nikita

I have to tell you that I have never, ever seen a man do what Robin was doing to Michael. My goodness, he was agile! What an astonishing sight these two gorgeous men were. But as much as I was enjoying my ringside seat, I was overcome with an intense desire to push Robin away, to take over and not only give Michael full rein for his sexual fulfillment, but to give him safe harbor from the pain that had been his only source of emotion for too long.

Almost immediately after completing that thought, I found that I could move from my place, no longer imprisoned on the bed. Robin, still performing his amazing feat on Michael, reached out a hand, drawing me toward them. He became very still then, removing his mouth from Michael's cock. Michael gasped and squeezed his eyes shut, as if in pain. God knows I would have been after all that taunting and no letting go.

"Say wha' ye want," Robin whispered.

Chest heaving, Michael uttered one word. "Kee-ta."

******

Michael

I felt his mouth move away and I wanted to cry out. He made me speak and I said the only thing that was in my mind, in my heart. Almost instantly, I felt a blanket of warmth soothe my body, taking away the tension and anxiety. It was the kind of warmth I remembered from childhood when only my parents could chase away the terrors that haunt small children.The feeling was so perfect I felt dazzled and saw bright stars flashing against my closed eyelids. I moaned, trying to clear my head and slowly opened my eyes. Nikita's stunning face was floating above mine. Her knees straddled my waist and she ever so slowly took me into herself, replacing the warm wetness of Robin's mouth. Only this hot, moist sheath felt custom made for me and me only.

With each millimeter that I entered her, I felt Robin extract himself from me. It was a singular feeling. Words are inadequate to describe that sense of being emptied and encased simultaneously. I honestly believed I was dying and it felt better than I could have ever imagined.

*****

Nikita

I thought for a second I would be useless to Michael as I slowly slid down his length, taking him all the way in. Nothing that had happened during this whole dream compared to the feeling. I was afraid I would implode from the pleasure and die happy but worthless on top of him. But somehow, a shimmer of control brushed through me and I could once again breathe and watch and feel.

****

Michael

I looked up and swam into the blue ocean of her eyes and didn't care that I was helpless. A breeze of charged current passed over us just then and a warm hand caressed my head, playing with my hair. Nikita and I looked up at the same time. Glowing in the golden light from the many candles, Robin knelt next to us. It was neither the man nor the woman, more an essence, but it was Robin kissing first Nikita then me on the forehead. A beatific smile and a ripple of the air and Robin was gone.

***

Nikita

Michael raised his arms from their invisible bonds and cupped my face with his hands. He lifted his head and I bent to meet him. When we kissed it was like my lips were the yin and his the yang. I could not fathom taking my mouth away from his. It felt like I was drinking the basic liquid of life. My heart raced as I eagerly nipped his full lips with my teeth, darting my tongue between them, sucking his tongue deeply. I touched his shoulders and delighted in the feel of solid muscle and sinew directly below his hot, smooth skin. I sat up, feeling packed with him and rocked, gently rubbing myself directly against him. My hands could not touch him enough. I inhaled the feel of him through my skin.

**

Michael

The interlude of soul-melding that had swept over us when our bodies joined was pushed aside as my nerves reawakened, scrambling for a crescendo. When she touched me it was like her hands held some of Robin's magic, making my skin jump and my desire roar forward in a blinding rush.

*

Nikita and Michael

Michael broke totally free of his invisible restraints, ones I had started to believe were purely of his own making, and set us moving. I slid up and down his cock in time to the pulsing of his hips. His long-fingered hands taunted my skin, reminding me that it is one huge organ. We rolled over. On my back, I curved my body to mold to his, taking in the length of him, feeling it pounding against my insides.

I tried to remain as controlled as I could but it was no use. My desire to be lost in her was voracious. I used my hands, my mouth, my cock, my legs to touch, feel, sense, be in her, with her. I slammed into her with every ounce of the passion I had been building and storing all night.

I felt it start to rain. Blinking up into it, I searched his face. Then I opened my mouth and drank his tears.

I didn't know why I was crying, but when I saw her take my tears as her own, my heart was captured forever.

His frenzied strokes slowed all at once and I saw him straining to withhold himself from total surrender.

I had to stop, I...had...to...stop. I had to let her know.

His arms strained, the muscles and veins bulging, holding his upper body above mine and his orgasm at bay.

"I need you."

"I'm here."

One last deep thrust. My entire body shuddered with the force of release and I entered oblivion.

Robin

As ye've mibbe figgered by naoo, I've a rrrare and unique talent. There are a varrriety o' we special ops used to get through to those who've het the wall, which is mair commonplace than naw in Section. Good ol' Section, it'll suck the verra life from ye like a plague if ye don't guard agin it. Then there're some like Mykil, who've jest had one tae miny blows to git back up and dae it agane.

Wha'iver the cause, a spec op can tek the drastic maysures that are beyond Section's narmal scope. Some fowks nade tae bae shocked back inty action. Some rrrespond tae fear. Some nade to tap their passions. That's where I come in. In honesty, I always enjoy mesel, but when I gaw a gander at Mykil and Nehkita, I knew ma job would be a snap. Passion fairly boiled jest ablow the serrfice betwin the twa o' them. It was all I could do naw to bairst out laughin with the playsure of the idea. I knew it wouldn't tek much to mek them acknowledge their need fer each ither. But I played along, mekkin it leuk like an efferrrt.

I'll let ye in on anither secrrret. I doon't always talk like this. I mean, it is my natural voice, but I do play up the accent. It seems to have a delightful effect on most people, especially the women.

Although sometimes I can feel the man bein pulled by it. If so, I let it rrrip. I do wha'iver it takes. This is Section, after aw, and I'm as accountable as the next op.

This morning Nehkita was the last to find er way to the briefing table. There was only the one chair left, it bein right next to Mykil. Naturally. She hesitated jest the shartest moment, then gulped a visible breath and took her seat. The lovestruck pair didn't even glance at each ither. I had to stifle a chuckle.

When all were assembled, Operrations clared his throat as if he were to make some grrand pronouncement. Crikey, I have a hard time toleratin that mon. Anyway, the old coot ahemmed and afore he could say a word, both o' my pair spoke out in unison. "Where's Robin?" they asked. A course, neither o' them would look at t'other. They only had eyes for the old man. And, he, lookin as smug as only he knows how, played with his spectacles then tilted his haid at the lovely Madeline (don't warry, I ken she's the most dastardly crayture ever to walk God's earth) and gave her the floor, so to speak.

"Robin," she said with that wicked little smile o' hers, "has been transferred." End o' speech.

In a way it hairt me feelins a wee bit. I would have liked a tad more sorrow at my departure. However, Mykil and Nekita were both so visibly relieved, I had to laugh. Madeline was the only one to notice my presence, shrouded as I were by my, uh, abilities, and she shot the nastiest leuk right in my dirrrection. I decided it was time to tek my leave, but I noted fairst that Nehkita finally relaxed and leaned back in her chair and when Mykil followed suit, his thigh came to rrrest along hers--and neither one pulled away. Besides themsels, I alone know how significant that was.

Later, this evenin, I happened to be passin by Nehkita's apartment buildin as she came home. Well, all right, I was spyin, but I had tae be sure things were still clickin along. As she apprrroached the frront steps, she looked up to find Mykil sittin and awaitin for her. A smile as bright as all the stars tagither lit her beautiful face. He, on t'other hand, looked mighty nairvis.

"Do you want to come in?" she asked.

"More than I can say," he whispered.

She nodded and unlocked the door.

I dae love ma job.

THE END

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