Nikita's exhilarated breath shattered the stillness of the ink-blackened night sky, the heels of her ebony stilletos clacking seductively against the moonlit, Parisian cobblestone road as she made way for the covert inn in which she had taken up lodging for the duration of her...stay. After years of mastering the art of manipulation in Division, it didn't take much more than a few plastered smiles and alluring glances to throw off the suspicious glares of the lodgers before she made her way to her room.

She sighed appreciatively into the darkness of the lush chamber as the skin of her bare back came into contact with the back of the door, closing softly against the invading light of the hallway. Slowly, she untied the taut straps of her favorite open-toed stilletos, almost moaning in pleasure as she heard them drop delicately beneathe her, the pressure of her feet ebbing away as they met the cold hard-wood flooring.

Nikita was beyong exhausted. Stealing a USB containing classified information on Division from a highly organized Parisian mob affiliated with the Italian mafia will do that to you. All she wanted to do was sleep. She headed doggedly for her soft, glorious bed, unzipping the back of her jet-black, strapless dress as she did so.

It was then that she heard it: the definative cock of a gun hammer aimed for the back of her head.

She stilled instantly, dropping her slender though sinewy arms to her sides.

"Michael," she breathed expectantly, a smirk in her voice. Of course. Who else would have the balls to follow her into her room and the patience to wait cautiously within the cover of the shadows. She really should've given the room a once-over before entering. It was a stupid mistake that she would be sure never to make again.

"Nikita," he countered dangerously in that sexy, gravely voice to which she had grown accustomed. He began to approach her, closing the distance between them, and she, mentally, counted the steps until she could almost feel him touching her.

"Nikita, I need that USB," he simply said, but she could hear the steel in his quiet whisper. "Give it to me and I'll leave. Division will never have to know."

"You know I can't do that, Michael," she replied tauntingly, a sliver of a smile coloring her playful tone.

"Nikita, I don't have time for this."

"For what?"

"Your games," he spoke tiredly, coldly; anger getting the best of him as he pressed the barrel of the gun to the mid of her back for emphasis. Sensing his mistake, Michael tried to remove the gun, but it was too late. Seizing the moment, Nikita swiftly turned around, twisting Michael's hand in order to release the pistol then delivering a powerful kick to his abdomen. Before he could even bat an eyelash, the femme fatal had the seasoned agent flat on his back; her thighs on either side of his legs gripping forefully as she pinned his hands above his head.

Ever so slowly, she dipped her lips to the side of his head, her hot breath caressing the shell of his ear, making him shiver.

"But don't you like it when I play with you, Michael?"

At this, Michael's breath quickened. He knew Nikita well enough by now; he knew what she was getting at. Did she think that he was oblivious to the chemistry between them? Oblivious to her? She was sexy as hell and he had desired her since the first day he saw her. If things had been different, if he had had his way, Michael would've taken Nikita the first night she had beaten him in their faux combat training session.

But alas things were not his way, and they never would be. For this reason he had never acted on his impulses. Instead, he had forced himself to put on a charade-a mask of calm indifference which slowly consumed his life and his very character. Did he have feelings for Nikita? Absolutely. She was in every way his equal and he enjoyed the challenge that she posed. It also didn't hurt that she was one of the most beautiful women he had ever laid eyes on. She was not only striking in the flesh but also for her charisma, her spirit... her heart.

As much as he would try to deny it, Michael had fallen in love with the skilled ex-assasin. Perhaps that's why it had hurt so much when she had started a relationship with Daniel, why he always let her go whenever he caught her. He tried to hate her, but he couldn't. She had chosen Daniel because he had loved her and she had loved him. If anything, Michael was to blame. He had never told her how he felt. He was always afraid of the risk, of the danger he might put her in. He thought he had lost her once long ago and had almost went mad with silent grief. He couldn't put her at risk. He couldn't watch her die.

...But could he watch her walk into the arms of another man? His name was Michael; not St. Michael. He wasn't sure if he could be that selfless...but he knew he had to push his feelings aside and deal with the situation at hand.

"Nikita," he said finally, "Give. Me. The. Device."

"No," she returned evenly, capturing his intense eyes with hers.

"How are you so stubborn?" he wondered aloud.

"I had an excellent teacher," she countered. She loved toying with Michael. He was so loyal and honorable yet dangerous...a danger that she found most attractive. He was her enemy-she knew that, but still...he had been a great friend to her during her time working for Division and it certainly didn't help that the man was so handsome and sensual that he was basically sex on legs. She had loved him long ago...she loved him still, but they could never be together. Even if the feelings were mutual their affair would be impossible. He was loyal to Percy and she was hell-bent on destroying him and his Division. Call her crazy but she had a feeling that their relationship wouldn't exactly pan out.

Michael had had enough. He was getting that USB one way or another. Using all of his strength, he forced Nikita off of him, turning until their positions were switched and Nikita was on her back.

"Really?" Nikita breathed, completely relaxed under his iron grip as Michael arched a brow in surprise. Never taking her daring eyes off of his, she gently raised her hips off of the cold floor, brushing herself suggestively against the junction of his thighs. "Nobody likes a tease, Michael."

Caught off guard, Michael found himself being thrown off by Nikita again. This time, at least, they were both on their feet and already posed in defensive stances.

"Give me the USB, Nikita," Michael commanded, blocking and delivering a frenzy of fast-paced blows in time with his prior student.

"Sorry. No can do," she replied, producing an amazing flying kick that threw Michael to the door, shaking the very foundation of the inn.

"Shit!" they half-shouted in unison upon hearing the angry footsteps of the innkeeper headed their way. He didn't have the decency to even knock, for they could hear the jangling of keys echoing through the chilled night air.

Both agents, for the first time, were at a loss for words. For all their training, they couldn't think of a believable lie without blowing their cover. They had to call a truce.

Finally, slightly panicking, Nikita spoke. "Kiss me," she half-demanded.

"What?" Michael asked incredulously.

"Trust me. Just do it. Ki-"

Michael didn't have to be told twice. Fuck the USB he thought. His lips descended upon hers with such an aching gentleness that Nikita almost went weak in her knees. Her hand snaked its way to his head, threading her fingers in between his dark, thick locks as his stole around the girth of her slender waist, the other brushing softly against the surface of her smooth, mocha cheek.

Slowly, Michael's hand traveled up Nikita's waist to the bare flesh of her skin. Nikita gasped against the surprising contact and Michael took advantage of it, slipping his tongue in between her blood red lips, imitating with his mouth what he would like to do with her. This only made Nikita want him more. Her hands found the buttons of his deep, navy blue shirt and, impatient and unable to deal with so many clasps in the darkness, she ripped it open, buttons flying everywhere before falling to the floor like crystal raindrops.

She heard the key being inserted into the lock and whispered huskily in the darkness. "Quick, he's coming. Get down on the floor!" she spoke, pulling him on top of her as they descended unto the icy, damp flooring. "Get the sheet off of the bed," she whispered against his mouth.

As he pinned her to the floor, Michael draped the sheet around them in front of the bed, plastering smoldering kisses up and down her curvaceous neck. The door began to crack open hesitantly and Nikita moaned loudly, grabbing Michael's face to deliver an erotic open-mouthed kiss as she pulled down his shirt over his bare his shoulders, throwing it onto the ground beside her. "He's coming in," Nikita half-moaned breathlessly, the heat of his bare chest against her making her whimper. "Do something."

"What would you like me to do," he groaned seductively, a smile in his voice.

Nikita was quiet for a few seconds before speaking. "Hump me," she said hesitantly.

Michael's bewildered face said it all. No questions were necessary. "Yes, you heard right. Make like your humping me."

"Are you s-" Her dirty words were making him horny and hard as hell. He knew that this was a ruse, but he didn't know how far he could go without stopping. He was afraid he'd lose control.

"Yes! He's coming in!"

As soon as the words left Nikita's mouth, the innkeeper walked in and Michael swiftly parted her legs, dry-humping her as she slung her legs over his hips.

"Alright!" the grumpy, old innkeeper shouted followed by a slew of French curses as he walked into the room, not even bothering to turn on the lights. "What's with all the noi-"

Nikita could only imagine the look on his face as he found the two of them tangled on the floor with her supposedly close to orgasm. "OH, MY GOD!" she shouted, with Michael's devilishly smiling face burrowed into the crook of her neck. "OOh! God! Harder! Faster!" she screamed, rocking her hips maddeningly fast against Michael's. "Yes! Yes! Yes!" Nikita could feel Michael getting harder and harder with each passing second of their act. She half-smiled to herself, feeling a sense of satisfaction or completion in knowing that she was one of few people who had the ability to make Michael lose his cool, break his reserve.

"Nikita," Michael managed to say, close to climax. He could feel her wetness through the sheer dress she wore, making him mad with lust. If they didn't stop right now there would be no going back for him. He would have her tonight. Nikita, in turn, moaned as she tightened her legs around him, forcing him to come as she orgasmed from their friction, her hips lifting off the ground and meshing against his with a force he would have thought impossible if he had not witnessed it himself.

They were so enraptured with their little act that they hadn't even noticed when the innkeeper left, making sure to lock the door behind him.

"Wow," Nikita breathed as Michael continued his trail of burning kisses from her neck to her shoulder.

"Yeah," he responded hoarsely through his heavy panting. "I'm sorry but I have to ask," he began boldly; the devil in his eyes. "Did you really just or-"

"Of course not," Nikita answered swiftly, though a growing rouge on her cheeks threatened to dispell her lie.

"Sure," Michael chuckled, continuing his loving ministrations.

"Michael," Nikita spoke unevenly, her eyes fluttering as his hand caressed her clothed thigh. They shouldn't be doing this. It was wrong. She loved him, yes, but he was Division. In the end, he would only break her heart, and, after what she went through with Daniel, she couldn't bear to go through it again. "Maybe we should st-"

To her surprise, he didn't even let her finish. Before the next word ever came out of her mouth, Michael's lips found hers and he ravished them with a fervor she didn't know he could possess outside of her dreams. "Shhhhh," he crooned softly, holding her hands as they ascended to their feet.

"Nikita," he spoke, suddenly very seriously; a fire burning within his eyes. "There's something I've been to tell you for a long time now." Nikita held her breath as her tear-brightened eyes met his. No. He couldn't do this to her; not now. "Nikita," he continued, brushing the back of his hand against the side of her face, "I lo-"

She put a single graceful finger to his lips, effectively silencing him instantly. She couldn't hear him say it...not yet. She wouldn't. In her mind, if he didn't say it then it wasn't true, and if it wasn't true then she couldn't get her heart broken again. "I know," she spoke, a sob threatening to overpower her calm voice. "And I you," she finished, putting her hand over her heart and then over his.

That was all the incentive Michael needed. Before Nikita could exhale her last breath, Michael's lips were upon hers, stealing hungry, greedy, erotic kisses. Their tongues battled for dominance as his hand found the zip on the back of her dress, pulling it down painfully slow as his knuckles just barely graced her skin along their southbound journey. Gone was the gentle lover whom Nikita had found pleasure with earlier, here stood a man filled with smoldering, unreserved lust and love embedded into his very core, evident in the possessive way he looked at her when he had rid her of her evening dress, drinking in her beauty as she stood beneathe the pale moonlight clad only in a strapless, lace bra and black matching panties.

"You're so beautiful," he exhaled, pulling her to him for another searing kiss.

"So are you," she whispered honestly, her tongue darting out sensually to lick at the curve of his outer ear.

"Come to bed with me," he half asked, half stated. Michael would like to think that he was still a gentleman despite the situation and that he would stop if Nikita asked him to. However, he was beginning to have some serious doubts. He only prayed that she would agree. He needed her. Badly.


Author's note:

I hope you enjoyed part one of this fanfiction; I know I did :)

Part two will be up soon!