"Show me."

And with those words, the arousal hit Nikita with the force of a sledgehammer. She took a deep shuddering breath and wondered, with the little brain she could feel slipping away, how it had happened so fast, like a lightning bolt hitting her body. The first breath led to more, faster, shallower, and she could feel a flush spread over her chest and face. Looking up at Michael's face, she saw a similar reaction. Now. It had to happen right now. Michael was now breathing through his parted lips as she was. She could see the speed of his breaths in the rise and fall of his chest. His burning gaze was focused entirely on her face and she watched his eyes as they dropped down to her hands, still poised at the top button of her sweater.

"Do it." His voice was whispery and deep. In a haze, Nikita started to slip the buttons free and the sweater parted, as if in a dream.

Michael shuddered as his guess was confirmed. She wore nothing else under the sweater. It was lined with a satiny material. When all the buttons were undone, she looked up at him and understood his unspoken command. Nikita slipped the sweater off and dropped it to the floor.

Michael's hands flexed as he gazed at the beauty of her breasts. She could almost feel his eyes caressing her and her nipples drew into tight buds as he watched. His breathing quickened and now a dark red flush was appearing on his cheeks.

He whispered again, "The rest of it." Nikita wanted so badly to feel his hands on her, but, in a way, not. This moment was so intense and they weren't even touching each other. Still holding his gaze in a moment so intimate, she reached and unzipped the skirt. It fell to the floor. Also lined, she wore only a garter belt and stockings and her shoes. Michael closed his eyes briefly as if to gather strength. When they opened, they blazed with the force of his arousal and Nikita shivered in response.

The urgency was increasing. The ultimate act was the only thing Nikita could think about. Primitive thoughts filled her mind. Michael filling her. That's what I need right now. With what was left of her mind, she kicked off her shoes, unhooked her stockings, unclipped her garter belt, and swept all of it away along with her underwear in one quick gesture. When she looked up, she stopped stunned. Michael was experiencing the same urgency, it appeared, and had drug his sweater off over his head and now had his hands at his belt.

Nikita finally whispered to him, "Hurry." Michael had unbuckled his belt, unzipped his pants and her voice stopped him and he looked up. He saw the condition she was in. She was squirming slightly with her arousal and he was sure, totally ready to accept him. And he ready to fill her.

He looked around quickly. The stool from the kitchen bar, the one that Nikita had been sitting on while waiting for him to finish dinner. It was close. He walked to it and looked around for Nikita. She had followed him closely. She needed his body in the most urgent way and wouldn't let him far from her sight. Michael lowered his pants enough to release himself and he reached for Nikita. She had been reaching for his erection and he caught her hand.

"No." He had difficulty getting any words out between his breaths.

"Michael." She pleaded with him to end the torment. Someway. Somehow.

Michael leaned back into the stool and pulling Nikita to his side, he hoisted her over his legs and raised her over his straining arousal. Lowering her slightly, he felt her hands reaching down to guide him home.

Finding the rungs of the stool with her feet, Nikita gained the necessary leverage to control her body and she took advantage of it. The means to end the sexual tension lashing at her body was finally close, literary in her hands. She lowered herself in one motion and they both groaned and their foreheads met as they savored the slow gliding motion of their union. When she was fully seated, Nikita raised her arms to his shoulders and looked up into his eyes, pleading, asking a question..

Michael understood. "We'll take longer the second...." He shivered with the feeling of her internally milking him. "Maybe the third time." She nodded and lowering her head to his shoulders and gripping him tighter, Nikita ground herself harder down on him and started to climax. Michael wound his arms around her body and joined her, one heartbeat later.

Minutes later....

Still feeling Nikita trembling, Michael held onto her with a firm grip. Truth to tell, he was also still shaking from the aftermath of an earthshaking orgasm. He wasn't ready to move from the stool yet or release Nikita to her feet.

As soon as he thought his legs would support both him and Nikita, he placed his hands under her buttocks and stood up from the stool. Michael then moved to the next closest piece of furniture, the couch. Nikita laid her head on his shoulder and waited limply for whatever he was deciding to do. When he stood next to the couch, he slid Nikita from his body and laid her gently on the couch. Her eyes were closed and she had a contented smile on her face.

Nikita opened her eyes slowly. And then they widened. She took in the picture of Michael, standing next to her, exposed and shiny wet, still firm, and still wearing his pants, shoes, and socks. And then she groaned, because she could feel the madness returning.

"Michael," in a helpless pleading tone. And he understood again. He started to remove his shoes and socks. When he was done with that, he looked at Nikita and saw her biting her lips, staring at his fully hardened member.

"Nikita." He said this in a warning voice to dissuade her from the decision she seemed to be making. "Later." She pouted her mouth in disappointment. Michael quickly shed his pants and silk boxers in one motion.

Nikita stated the obvious. "I need you again." Michael didn't bother to reply. He just knelt on the couch between her legs, placed her legs on his shoulders, and gave her what they both needed.

**** Up Where We Belong

Who knows what tomorrow brings
In a world, few hearts survive
All I know is the way I feel
When it's real, I keep it alive

The road is long, there are mountains in our way
But we climb a step every day

Love lift us up where we belong, where the eagles cry
On a mountain high
Love lift us up where we belong, far from the world
We know, up where the clear winds blow

Some hang on to used to be
Live their lives, looking behind
All we have is here and now
All our life, out there to find

The road is long, there are mountains in our way,
But we climb a step every day

Love lift us up where we belong, where the eagles cry
On a mountain high
Love lift us up where we belong, far from the world
We know, up where the clear winds blow

Time goes by, no time to cry, life's you and I
Alive today

Love lift us up where we belong, where the eagles cry
On a mountain high
Love lift us up where we belong, far from the world
We know, up where the clear winds blow

****

"Ah, I can't move." Nikita spoke this in a breathless voice. She wondered idly, how many times did that make? She lost count. All she knew for certain this time, was that it would kill her if they went at it again. Her skin felt so sensitized and touchy, that the breeze from her overhead fan was creating ripples of sensations to cross her body.

Nikita and Michael lay on her bed side by side, on their backs, barely touching. They had just parted after an orgasm that seemed to have no intention of stopping. Inside Nikita, aftershocks were still happening. Her hand on his side was up and over in Michael's hair, as she idly sifted it through her fingers and wondered at its silkiness. His hand was on her stomach and idly investigating her navel.

Nikita looked out the window. It had gotten dark outside. When did that happen? She turned her head and looked at her bedside clock. Almost midnight. Five hours of the most intense lovemaking she had ever experienced. Stronger than the night on the boat. Geez, she thought, I've got to talk to Michael about pacing ourselves.

Michael's hand stilled, as if he had just made a decision. That was confirmed when he rose from the bed in one slightly stiffened movement. Nikita noticed with amusement how uncharacteristically uncoordinated his movements were. He usually was very graceful and controlled. She had put his body through its paces, she thought smugly. The smile left her lips when he turned and spoke.

"I'm going to take a shower and get dressed. When I'm done, you do the same. It's time for us to talk." He sounded very ominous and because of that, Nikita decided against her first thought of playfully asking him if he wanted to share his shower. The man had something very serious to say. Nikita just nodded and Michael turned and headed for the bathroom.

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

When Nikita emerged from her bedroom, she was dressed in jeans and a long sleeve t-shirt. She was barefoot and hadn't bothered with a bra. When she had tried to put one on, her breasts were still very sensitive and slightly sore from the excesses of the prolonged lovemaking. She couldn't bear the constriction of a bra. The sensation of her t-shirt against her nipples wasn't much better though, she thought. And she was worried that she was walking like Gabby Hayes after a very long trail ride.

Michael had made coffee, she noted disapprovingly. Then, she noticed her favorite mug, a Daffy Duck one, steaming with a tea bag. Her nose could just make out the raspberry scent of her currently favorite tea over Michael's coffee smell. He indicated the table with a silent motion of his hand. Nikita sat down and Michael brought their beverages over to their places. He sat.

Nikita fidgeted with the tea bag and then removed it and placed it on a napkin from the holder on the table. Michael still hadn't spoken since she had arrived and it was making her very nervous imagining what he would say.

She finally burst out, "So help me God, Michael, if you tell me that what just happened was a mistake, I'll find my gun and shoot you." He watched her outburst with his inscrutable, intense gaze.

"No, it wasn't a mistake. It may have been premature."

"Premature? What would we be waiting for?" Nikita was impatient to hear what he was thinking. Normally, he was famous for getting straight to the point, even if he knew she wouldn't like what she heard.

"For you." Her eyes narrowed. "For you to be mature enough to accept the conditions under which this relationship will proceed." Michael waited for her to absorb that. And he watched her face very closely. He watched a gamut of emotions cross her face. What she would say first was very important. It would be a guide for him to judge whether she had the strength and the maturity to handle what was certainly to come in the future.

Anger, first she felt anger. Like any young person, like a child, she was instantly offended when her maturity was questioned. That was the first knee-jerk reaction.

Within seconds, her brain engaged when she saw the sincerity of his expression. He wanted their relationship to deepen. She had no doubt about that. What was he so worried about?

Section. Of what they could do to them because of their growing closeness. Section needed two fully functioning cold operatives. If they felt they couldn't have two of them in peak condition, one of them would be sacrificed and Nikita had long known which one of them Operations felt was expendable. Michael wasn't worried for himself, but for Nikita.

But, they had both sensed an ally in Madeline. If she felt that it wasn't affecting their working relationship, possibly even enhancing it, she would try to convince Ops that it was in Section's best interests to allow the closeness of the two operatives. So, both Michael and Nikita needed to maintain or even improve their skills as operatives. This way would be the best way to prove their point.

What could threaten their composure on missions? First, could she stand to see Michael in life-threatening danger? She had spent years experiencing that. She had been in charge of missions personally directing him under those conditions. Would their growing closeness make it harder to perform their risky jobs? No, she shook her head slightly. They lived their lives on the edge every day. She had been trained well to accept this. Since she had returned, she had become more like Michael in that respect. Nikita would enter a machine-mode, she called it.

Then, what? And the light dawned in her mind. It wasn't the danger. It was the roles that both she and Michael would be expected to perform on occasion. The question was, could she now watch Michael making love to another woman? The lovemaking seemed to underscore a deep bond they had between them. It was a sacred moment, so out of time. Nikita saw now what Michael had been waiting for. Yes, she needed the maturity to separate their lovemaking from the sexual acts that both of them would be expected to deliver for the completion of a mission.

Michael had been watching her expressions with a growing sense of relief. Finally, she was thinking the possibilities through and envisioning the rough roadblocks ahead. He himself would have to struggle with the possibility of Nikita making love or God help him, possibly being raped, for the greater good of achieving their goals in a mission. He spoke again, when he thought the moment was right.

"Now, you understand why I have two parts to my mind. When we are operatives, you have to be the same to me as any other. I can't allow my feelings for you to influence assignments. In another lifetime, I would protect you with my own life. Here, I will put you in danger personally. I will place you in situations that would shame me to consider otherwise."

Nikita eyes grew moist as she realized the scope of what they had to endure to continue their lovemaking. Was he right? Was it too soon for her to be able to handle this? And her growing love for Michael made her consider another side. Should she ask him to endure the hell of putting the woman he loved into the arms of another man, more than likely a very evil man, considering the lowlifes they dealt with all the time? It would be worse for him. She only had to do what she was directed to do. In a way, this almost absolved her from the responsibility. But Michael, poor Michael. He would have to make the decisions and that would be extremely difficult. Now, she needed to ask him something.

"Can you handle it?" This was something Michael hadn't been expecting, but he realized he should have. She was worried about him and the pain he would be experiencing. Another hopeful sign of her emotional growth.

"I want to try." If it was selfish of him, so be it. Nikita made life worth living for him again. How could any man be expected to voluntarily let that go, if he could find a way to keep it.

Nikita made a decision. Placing her hand, palm up on the table, she looked him straight in the eyes and whispered emotionally, "I want to try, too." And she watched as Michael's hand joined hers on the table. He took her hand and pulled her onto his lap and held her closely. She laid her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes. God, it was hell growing up.

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