Behind Blue Eyes

By Silk

Part 6-NC-17

Michael escorted Blair through the maze of corridors that made up Section One. No one so much as gave them a curious glance. That made Blair wonder about Michael's reputation. He didn't think it was respect alone that compelled everyone to give them a wide berth. Again and again, he reminded himself that this was an undeniably dangerous man.

After a short ride in the lift, they entered a new area. Section personnel who were temporarily assigned to One were quartered here, along with a certain percentage of people who lived there on a more permanent basis. Interestingly, Birkoff was one of those people.

What no one except Oversight knew was that there was an apartment on this level, a suite of rooms that could not be found on any blueprint nor accessed by anyone but Michael. Keying in the entry code, Michael pushed the handcuffed man through the doorway as soon as it opened.

Plush by Section standards, the apartment looked like a futuristic version of a mediocre hotel suite. However, one of the reasons it remained so valuable was its lack of surveillance. Everyone everywhere was constantly being watched. People who forgot often ended up dead. But this set of rooms did not exist. Therefore, it left a gaping but invisible hole in One's surveillance net.

Michael opened his suit jacket with one hand, commanding Blair to sit down.

"Where?"

"On the bed."

Blair involuntarily shook his head. He could feel the waves of attraction emanating from the Level 5 cold op, but he would be damned if he would assist in his own seduction.

Michael strode over to where Blair stood uncertainly and gave the smaller man's chest a shove with the palm of his hand, causing him to land on the expansive double bed with a bounce.

"Hey," Blair protested. Then he shut his mouth, realizing that far worse things might lay in store for him than this.

"Take your clothes off."

That took him by surprise.

"Shit, you're a real closet romantic, Michael. Does that tone of voice usually get you anywhere?" Blair asked sarcastically.

"Would you feel better if I said please?"

"I'd feel better if I wasn't the only one getting undressed here."

"I don't need to get undressed yet," Michael said softly.

Blair rolled his eyes. "Don't tell me. You like to watch?"

"That would be...difficult...since there are only two of us."

"You could invite someone else to the party. How about that kid I saw earlier? What's his name, Birkoff?"

That struck a nerve. Michael's face shut down completely. That wasn't a blank stare. It was an emotional blackhole. "No."

"No, his name isn't Birkoff, or no, he can't come out and play?"

"You ask too many questions."

"What are you going to do to me, Michael? Kill me?"

"Without thinking twice," the senior field operative replied coolly.

"Sorry, I've already been dead. I didn't like the scenery." Blair crossed his arms in front of him, setting his sensual mouth into a mutinous pout.

"Your mouth is going to get you into trouble someday."

"My mouth is what you want. Isn't it, Michael?"

"We can do this one of two ways. Either you lie down willingly. Or I take you by force."

Blair's eyes narrowed. "You won't rape me."

"You sound very sure of yourself."

"I am. You forget. Observing people is what I do for a living. Or it...was." Blair shifted uncomfortably under Michael's continued scrutiny. "Granted, you don't give a helluva lot away. But I know you, man. Taking someone by force isn't your thing. You already get way too much of that here. Nah...you want someone to come to your bed...because they want to be there."

Michael flushed, a perfectly normal involuntary reaction in most people. But Michael hated anything he could not control, and he felt his body betraying him.

Blair looked intently into Michael's face, seizing what little advantage he might have. "Fucking me would be an exercise in futility, man."

Blue eyes blazing, he stood up, face to face with the older man. "I know who you really want. I'm just a fucking stand-in for the real thing. You know it, too, don't you?"

"You can't seduce me into giving up Jim. I won't do it. You won't rape me. It doesn't serve any purpose. And you're nothing if not a company man, Michael."

Michael stared at him silently, neither confirming nor denying what he said.

Suddenly there was a loud rapping at the door. Michael's eyes turned black as his pupils dilated. No one knew about these rooms. No one.

Motioning Blair to move into the bathroom, Michael drew his gun. He edged closer to the door, hearing what sounded like muttering and cursing on the other side. Pressing the panel to open the door, he readied himself to grab whoever was out there. But he had to admit, he wasn't ready for the sight of the slight young man wavering in the doorway.

"Birkoff!" Michael exclaimed, pulling the Comm op inside with a hushed cry.

After re-locking the door, he holstered the gun and faced the younger man, a taut expression on his face. "How did you find us, and what are you doing here?"

"I always know where you are," Birkoff whispered.

Michael blinked. "What do you mean?"

"I...watch you."

"Why?" Michael demanded.

Blair chose that moment to come out of the bathroom, determined to intervene. "Why don't you leave the little guy alone?"

Birkoff flinched as if struck. "Little guy? Gee, thanks. Coming from you that must be what passes for mordant wit."

"Hey, I'm on your side, Birkoff," Blair frowned.

"Don't do me any favors, okay?" The head of Comm seemed quite beside himself. "I've been watching you, Michael. It's been days now, and you're practically obsessed with this hippie punk!"

Michael calmly returned, "It's my job to-"

"-gather intel. Right, Michael. So what kind of intel-gathering did you have in mind? Fucking him stupid?"

Michael's eyes grew glacial, twin chips of pale green ice warning Birkoff that he was on dangerous ground.

"I've been waiting for you to come to your senses for too long now. I can't stand it anymore! What's wrong with me?"

"There could never be anything between us, Birkoff, and you know it. You're too young-"

Birkoff pivoted on one heel sharply, poking Blair with his finger. "How old are you?"

"Uh...um...uh...30...why?"

Birkoff ignored Blair and turned back to the man he wanted more than breath itself. "I'm 25, Michael! Five years! He's five years older than I am! Next excuse!"

Michael's voice abruptly gentled. "Birkoff...you don't know anything but this life. You've never been anywhere but here. I can't ask you to give up the rest of your life for a one-night stand."

"The rest of my life? What life? Michael, we're all fucking dead! Dead to the outside, yes! But we might as well be dead here on the inside, too!"

Birkoff's anger empowered him in a way that left him aching as well as breathless. Moving closer to Michael, Birkoff insinuated his body into the space between Michael's legs. Pressing against Michael's groin, Birkoff was gratified to note that he had a fairly assertive erection.

"You don't have to ask me, Michael. I'm offering," Birkoff said, obviously forgetting Blair's presence. "And if I had anything to say about it, it wouldn't be just one night," he finished hoarsely.

"You...want me that much?" Michael sounded incredulous.

"I've wanted you for so long, I can't remember a time when I didn't. But no, it wouldn't be just sex for me, Michael. I'm in love with you."

Blair's bright blue eyes grew round. He liked happy endings. But he didn't think he wanted to be at ground zero when Michael and Birkoff came together for the first time.

Michael sighed. Birkoff held his breath. Blair chewed his fingernails.

"I'm not an easy man to love, Birkoff. Everyone who's tried is gone. Are you sure you want to be a part of--?"

Birkoff kissed him. What he lacked in experience, he more than made up for with enthusiasm. Michael relented at last, his body accepting the inevitable and welcoming the youthful intruder.

When the two men broke apart, it was rapidly apparent that they were both under the influence of more than mere hormones. They gazed raptly into each other's eyes until Blair coughed. Politely.

"I'm sorry. Question from the man still in handcuffs. Could I please be excused from this part? I'm really not a voyeur, and I don't like participating in anybody's sex life but my own."

Birkoff shivered as the roughened edges of Michael's fingertips caressed the side of his face. How many times had he watched him use that same gesture? On other people? Usually female. But it was different now that it was directed at him.

"Ohhh..." Since Blair was certain that this was a groan of impending ecstasy, he nearly interjected again. But Birkoff wasn't moaning, he was remembering. "Michael, Ellison's on his way. I confirmed the intel myself."

Blair couldn't help himself. "Jim's coming? For me?" he asked hopefully.

Michael almost smiled. "I told you he would, Blair."

"Well, yeah, but that was when you were talking about taking me to bed and all that and-Shit!"

Michael and Birkoff looked at Blair in unison. "What?"

"They'll fucking kill him, man! They don't know how to treat someone like him! They'll run him through tests that'll obliterate his senses and drive him crazy!"

"Michael, we've got to help them," Birkoff said.

"You can be frustratingly human when you remember to be, Birkoff," Michael said dryly.

Birkoff smiled coyly at his dark knight, a tiny crease around the corner of his mouth betraying that it was a genuine heartstopper. "I've got an idea."

***

That was how Michael ended up in bed with Birkoff for the very first time. At first, he was convinced that it was a manipulation, but Birkoff was, as usual, without guile. "Are you sure this is going to work?"

"If it doesn't, at least I'll die happy," Birkoff whispered softly against Michael's neck.

Birkoff deliberately leaked the location of the room to the normal surveillance channels, knowing that eventually, the news would reach Operations. By that time, though, they hoped that their ruse, Birkoff taking Blair's place with Michael, would buy Blair enough time to re-connect with his Sentinel.

Michael lay on his back, feeling strangely at peace, now that his secret desire for Birkoff had been discovered. By the young man himself. Running his fingers over the top of Birkoff's short-cropped hair, he thought it felt like brushed velvet. "I can't promise you forever, Birkoff. I wish I could."

"That's okay, Michael. You've already given me more than I had any right to expect."

"No, you have every right to expect...someone to love you. But I don't know if I will ever be able to say those words to you."

Birkoff's dark eyes gleamed as he looked down at Michael. "But you can feel them, in your heart, can't you?"

Michael nodded mutely.

Birkoff smiled. "That's all I ever wanted."

Trailing warm, wet kisses down the length of Michael's lean but muscular frame, Birkoff stopped just above his groin, as if waiting for permission. The clenching of Michael's hand in his hair was all the signal he needed. Taking Michael's already-hardened length into his hand, Birkoff stroked lightly as his tongue flicked out to acquaint itself with its silken texture. "You taste good."

"Considering you don't have any basis for comparison, I'm not sure how much of a compliment that is, Birkoff." Michael arched his back, thrusting his throbbing erection deeper into his lover's mouth.

Birkoff let Michael's cock fall slowly out of his hot, moist mouth, nuzzling the tip with his nose. "If you're mean to me, I'll stop," he said in a sing-song voice, knowing it was an idle threat at best. He loved the taste of Michael in his mouth, and he wasn't about to give up that pleasure any time soon.

"I'd rather not play oneupsmanship while your teeth are so close to my dick."

Birkoff groaned and rubbed his own cock against Michael's firm thigh, wetness leaking from its head. "Mmm, all these years, we've never had a real conversation, and now that we are...I'm surprised by what's coming out of your mouth."

"But not by what's going into it?" Michael gave Birkoff an enigmatic look.

"Does that mean, if I suck you off, you plan to return the favor?"

"If I'm still awake."

Birkoff grabbed the other pillow and started to pummel the senior field op with it. But Michael rolled over, taking the Comm op with him. Now Birkoff was lying trapped beneath Michael, a fact that might have made him nervous if it were not for the fact that he was already pulsating with excitement. "Don't fuck with me, Birkoff."

"I want to fuck with you, Michael."

"Mmm...I'll think about it." He gently pushed his way between Birkoff's legs, preferring to forego penetration this first time.

"Michael, I'm not afraid. I know you won't hurt me," Birkoff declared. On the contrary, Birkoff sounded like he could barely wait to merge his body with Michael's.

"I'm too hot to make it good for you now. Maybe later."

"*I* made you that hot, Michael?"

"Birkoff, you have no idea."

Another ardent kiss, another thrust into the younger man's groin, and sticky wetness covered both of them as Michael came first, followed by Birkoff.

"Ohhh, God...." Another gasp as sensation spread through him like sleepy fire.

"I love you, Michael."

If Birkoff hadn't closed his eyes at the moment of climax, he might have seen the fervent glance those words engendered. But then again, he might have told himself that he imagined it.

Part 7