Title:  True Lies

Author:  Silk

Fandom:  La Femme Nikita

Pairing:  Michael/Davenport

Rating:  R

Email address: silkn1@worldnet.att.net

Date:  2/23/01

Webpage:  www.angelfire.com/ny4/tinsel/

Disclaimer: Michael and Davenport belong to LFN Productions, Fireworks
Entertainment, Warner Bros, and USA Network. All of whom are not me. Still
not making any money off these things. Haven't given up writing 'em, though.

Series: This is a sequel to No Easy Way Out. This is Part 5 of  the In
Command series.

Warnings:  Set at the end of Season 3/beginning of Season 4 for those who
need to be aware of spoilers. Occasional bad words.

Summary:  Michael reveals a secret longing to Davenport.

My thanks to Gail and Tinn, who always *get* what I mean. No easy task
sometimes.

*****

True Lies

By Silk

Davenport's mouth yielded to Michael's. He had never been kissed with such a combination of tenderness and fervent desire before. No one had ever dared to possess him so totally before.

His onyx eyes gleamed one last time before they slid shut, his mouth opening to admit Michael's tongue. Threading his fingers through the long tendrils that curled at Michael's nape, Davenport gratefully surrendered. In a completely uncharacteristic gesture of submission, he lay back, leaving his body wide open and vulnerable.

It was Michael's groan that eventually brought Davenport back to his senses.

"What is it, Michael? Am I hurting you?"

Michael hid his face against the larger man's shoulder and breathed shakily. "No," he replied almost inaudibly.

"Then what? Come on, you can tell ol' Dav."

Michael almost smiled. When Michael raised his head, Davenport got his first clear look at his eyes. A single teardrop trembled on the end of an eyelash, made all the more poignant because of Michael's undeniable strength. Davenport couldn't help but reach out, his fingertips grazing Michael's cheek.

He was not a man given to careless gestures. He was not a romantic. Yet Michael's conflicted emotions tugged at Davenport's heartstrings like nothing else had.

"I want-" Michael bit his lip and suddenly Davenport wanted nothing more than to kiss him again.

"What do you want?" Davenport asked in a whisper.

"I want...more."

"Anytime, man."

"No, you don't understand." Michael reluctantly pushed himself away from his new lover in an apparent attempt to repair the damage to his clothing. But Michael's restless fidgeting with the fastening of his pants drew Davenport's attention. Stilling the hand that held the zipper with a touch, Davenport turned Michael's hand over and kissed his palm.

Michael stared at his palm as if it were part of someone else. Then his changeable gray-green eyes closed, finally releasing the single tear that clung to his lashes. "I want...too much," he whispered. "I want...what I can't have."

Davenport shifted position and sat up, his dark eyes thoughtful. "Michael, what is it that you think I can't give you?"

Michael opened his eyes in a blaze of emerald fire. "Not can't. Won't."

Davenport frowned. "Won't? You think I'm holding back on you, man? What are you talking about? Love?"

Michael shook his head and laughed bitterly. "Love? What's that?"

"I assumed you meant that-well, this was a one-time thing for you and-"

"You assumed wrong," Michael said tersely, his eyes glittering green pools of sorrow.

"Then-if we're not talking about love, what *are* we talking about, Michael?"

"Davenport, what do you see when you look at me?"

"What do you mean, what do I see? I see you-"

Michael leaned close enough to kiss Davenport, his gaze dropping meaningfully to his lover's mouth. "But what do you *see* when you look at me?" he whispered.

"Power. Strength." Davenport tried to close the distance between them, but Michael was too quick for him. Davenport smiled wearily. "Cunning."

Davenport sighed. The temptation to take Michael into his arms and never let him go was almost overwhelming.

"You *are* strong, Michael. What you're feeling right now might seem like weakness...but it's not. What doesn't kill you makes you stronger."

"But I'm so...tired. Tired of taking charge. Tired of everyone looking to me to do the impossible. Tired of-" Michael's voice broke as he maintained eye contact with Davenport. "-not having anyone to lean on."

Davenport could not look away from those eyes. He was mesmerized. Michael, who cherished control above all else, wanted to give it up. To *him*.

He reached out and touched the side of Michael's face. Michael shut his eyes again and leaned into his hand, as if the very feel of Davenport's skin against his was enough to sustain him. For now. Brushing an errant strand of fine brown hair away from his hairline, Davenport kissed him. "If you want me to take care of you, Michael, I-"

"Not want. Need," Michael interrupted.

"There's nothing wrong with *needing* someone, Michael."

Michael's face crumpled, but he did not cry. "You'll think I'm-"

"Weak? No, Michael." Davenport pulled the younger man into his arms. "I think you're the bravest man I've ever met."

Michael stirred as if he would protest, but Davenport pressed his head back down on his shoulder. "Ssh, you are. I admire you so much, Michael. But there's just one thing I have to tell you."

"I know you think this was just about fucking, and maybe it was, when we started. But it's not anymore."

He felt a shiver run through his entire body, but before he could decide what it might foretell, he felt the caress of warm lips on his neck. "Michael..." he breathed. "I am yours to command, in and out of bed. But it's too late to tell me not to love you. I already do."

End