Title: Fair Warning

Author/pseudonym: Silk

Fandom: La Femme Nikita

Pairing: Birkoff/Declan. Declan is an original character I created and may not be used by anyone else.

Rating: NC-17, graphic m/m consensual sex, language

Status: New/Complete

E-mail address for feedback: Silkn1@worldnet.att.net

Series/sequel: No

Other websites: Not yet

Disclaimers: Birkoff belongs to WB, USA, Fireworks, but sadly, not me. Declan, on the other hand, does belong to me, copyright and all.

Notes: This is my first attempt at writing slash fan fic. Please be kind. :-)

Summary: Birkoff discovers a hidden side to the new top cold op in Section.

Warnings: First time. AU, for certain. No spoilers, though. Lots of angst, however.

Part 1

Birkoff’s hands flew over the keyboard in front of him, his eyes continually assessing and reassessing parameters for the mission that was currently running. Suddenly his concentration was broken by a raucous voice in his ear. "Shit, Sey-mour...you’re doing it all wrong, you know."

Birkoff turned on Hillinger, his dark eyes holding a glare that would have chilled a lesser man. Or a smarter one. "What the hell are you moaning about now, Greggie?" Birkoff drawled sarcastically.

Hillinger drew back, a sardonic twist to his mouth. "Hey, man, don’t call me that."

Birkoff sighed. Castigating Hillinger was one of the few pleasures left him in what passed for their workplace. Section One was not an easy place to work or live, and the fact that Birkoff did both within Section’s confines made it that much more difficult for him.

Ever since Michael and Nikita escaped, a pall had been cast over the place. Operations snapped at everyone, often for no reason. No, wait, that wasn’t exactly a major personality change. Madeline seemed withdrawn and preoccupied, not at all her normal Torture Queen self. Even Walter was morose, given to fits of melancholy whenever the mood struck him.

Birkoff sniffled. He couldn’t afford to lose track of the mission running. People’s lives were at stake. People were...Holy shit! An explosion ripped open the building that still held Section operatives. The team leader was not going to be pleased. In fact, the team leader was probably going to have his ass for breakfast.

The man who replaced Michael was every bit as cold. A tall, lean Irishman with daringly long red hair that curled its way down his back, Declan McLaren was no one to fool around with. His reputation clearly preceded him. Rumor had it that there was something going on between Declan and Madeline. Birkoff wasn’t convinced they were having an affair, but he had to admit, it often looked as though Declan was Madeline’s pet.

Birkoff quickly ran through the scenario he was going to present to Declan when he returned, hoping he didn’t stammer through it like the last time. Truth was, the man made him distinctly nervous. He wasn’t sure why. He was well-used to Michael’s terseness, and Declan shared quite a few attributes with the former Man In Black. Maybe it was the cold storm-grey eyes that sent a shiver down Birkoff’s spine. The man ate, drank and slept Section One. And no one got close to him. No one. Except Madeline.

Part 2

Declan strode through Van Access in the manner of a young god who commanded his disciples to prostrate themselves at his feet. Operatives, male and female alike, fell all over themselves to get out of his way. No one wanted to claim Declan’s attention. If Declan noticed someone, it was invariably bad.

He didn’t stop once on his way to Comm. The moment he arrived, the buzz of conversation ceased. Everyone who could, found something else to do and somewhere else to be. Except for Hillinger. Hillinger rocked back on his heels, gloating, certain that Birkoff was going to get The Treatment from Declan. That suited him just fine. Never mind that it had been Hillinger’s fault that Birkoff was distracted. Never mind that it would have been impossible to get Section’s operatives out of the building before the charges went off.

Hillinger was grinning gleefully when Declan’s hard gaze fell upon him. All at once, the saliva in Hillinger’s mouth dried up. But not with fear. With desire. The irony was, Hillinger was physically attracted to Declan. But Declan, like Michael before him, gave nothing away.

"Hillinger." Declan spoke softly but with such authority, Hillinger suddenly wished he had left with the others.

"Yes?" he croaked, like the frog he sometimes resembled.

"Disappear." Declan waved his leather gloved hand and Hillinger was gone.

"Wow," Birkoff quipped, "I wish I could do that."

Declan turned his cool grey gaze on Birkoff. "Sit," he said tersely.

"Um, I’d rather stand. If you don’t m--"

"Sit," Declan repeated, this time with thunderous undertones.

Birkoff sat.

Declan stood there, tapping a black leather glove rhythmically against his leather-clad thigh. It was almost hypnotic. That tapping. His thigh looked so taut. So hard. So....

...this was wrong. All wrong. Why was he suddenly fascinated at the sight of Declan’s thigh? Okay, it was very nice leather. And he loved the way it clung to his... Why was he fantasizing about Declan’s thigh? Sheesh. Birkoff abruptly flushed.

Declan’s scrutiny missed nothing. He could see the head Comm Op was perspiring, but he attributed this to nerves. Everyone in his presence showed some sort of discomfort. He was well-used to it by now.

Ah, well, back to the business at hand.... Declan slapped the glove against his thigh one last time. "I lost half my team out there," he said quietly.

Birkoff wanted to hide, but he wasn’t taking the blame for someone else. "It was Hillinger’s job to keep track of the explosive charges. He screwed up."

Declan took a step closer to Birkoff. Birkoff’s dark chocolate eyes were drawn to the fullness of Declan’s mouth. Shit, he thought, I’m having a psychotic break, right here in the middle of Comm.

"You’re in charge, Birkoff. You’re responsible." Declan tapped his glove against Birkoff’s chest, and Birkoff drew a sharp breath.

"But it wasn’t my fault," Birkoff protested.

"No excuses, boyo. The only word I want to hear you say is ‘yes’."

"Yes?" Birkoff muttered.

"Yes," Declan hissed. "As in, did you screw up, Mr. Birkoff? And you say...?"

"Yes?" Birkoff said hesitantly.

"Ah, you’re a quick study. I like that." Declan raked Birkoff’s body from his feet to his head and back again.

"You look rumpled, like an unmade bed, Birkoff."

"Well, I’ve been working on missions for almost 12 hours now, I can’t--"

Declan’s eyes grew smoky, his expression enigmatic. "Now you’re making excuses for your appearance, Birkoff?"

"I--No!"

Declan moved closer, his breath fanning Birkoff’s cheek. The feral smile wasn’t what scared Birkoff, though, it was the tobacco-and-whiskey voice with the Irish inflection... "Maybe you need to go to bed."

Undoubtedly. Birkoff needed to sleep. Desperately. He must be sleep-deprived. Because he thought that Declan McLaren was coming on to him.

And he liked it.

Part 3

Declan stood over the profiling screen, pushing one key at a time to advance the videotape frame by frame. He hadn’t found the anomaly he was searching for yet, but he was determined he would. He inserted his own panel, keyed in his access code, and jumped back, startled, when the anomaly suddenly filled the screen. "There!" he exclaimed.

Birkoff and Hillinger stood side by side, waiting for Declan’s decision. It was up to the team leader to decide whether or not the problem was with the profile, computer error, operative error, or Comm error. Declan’s expression did not bode well. Hillinger, of course, just couldn’t keep his mouth shut.

"Declan! I was thinking--"

"Don’t," Declan said coldly, not inviting further conversation.

Birkoff glared at Hillinger, but Hillinger stuck out his tongue. "You’re such a child, Greggie," Birkoff said in acid tones.

"Me? Look who’s talking!" Hillinger countered.

"Shut up, both of you," said Declan without turning around, and there was utter quiet.

Moments passed in tense silence. Hillinger fidgeted restlessly, while Birkoff took the time to study Declan again. He didn’t understand this sudden attraction Declan held for him. Maybe he needed to start dating again. It had been a long dry spell between girlfriends. Not that any of them had ever treated him with the respect he was due. In fact, he had never had a girlfriend who didn’t take advantage of him in some way. Why was that? And why didn’t he care more about finding someone who valued him as a person?

Declan’s voice interrupted Birkoff’s musing. And it was not a pleasant interruption. Birkoff shuddered. He hated those words. "Birkoff? In my office."

***

Declan virtually kicked the office door shut with his booted foot. Birkoff flinched. This couldn’t be good. He could count on the fingers of one hand how many operatives had successfully evaded Declan’s wrath.

Declan stared blankly at Birkoff, his grey eyes pale, reflecting nothing of Birkoff’s anxiety back at him. "Do you know why I called you in here?"

Birkoff shook his head slowly, his chocolate brown eyes fixed on Declan’s face. So angular, so lean, so...refined. He was really almost beautiful...if you overlooked the fact that he was probably the most overwhelmingly masculine operative of his level within Section One.

Declan leaned over and touched the pad of his anti-surveillance device, de-activating Section’s ability to scan his office. He reached out with one hand and pushed Birkoff backwards, and Birkoff literally fell into the chair behind him. "Hey!" Birkoff cried involuntarily, without considering the possible consequences.

Declan’s hand suddenly gripped Birkoff’s shoulder. Birkoff felt a telltale shiver run down his spine. If he didn’t know better, he would swear he was getting excited. Oh, well, maybe his body had been starved for so long, it didn’t care whose hand touched him or where.

"Um...you were saying something about why you called me in here?" Birkoff offered.

Declan’s hand clenched tighter on Birkoff’s shoulder. "Yes," he said tersely. "What do you think of Hillinger?"

Birkoff’s eyebrows flew upwards in an expression that would have been almost comical in any other situation. But as much as he hated Hillinger, Birkoff had a sneaking suspicion that if he said so, Hillinger would get canceled. Birkoff just couldn’t live with that on his conscience.

No matter how hard he tried, though, he couldn’t find words that wouldn’t damn Hillinger. Declan waited patiently for several moments, then said, "Why do you hesitate, Birkoff? He wouldn’t do the same for you, and I think you know it. So tell me...why this strange loyalty to Hillinger?"

Birkoff shrugged. "I-I don’t know."

"Maybe the two of you...like each other?" Declan inquired, his tongue briefly flicking out to moisten his lips. Birkoff sighed. He was just as fascinated by Declan’s mouth as the rest of him, though he would never admit it.

Suddenly Birkoff blurted out, "I thought you and Madeline were having this raging hot love affair!"

Declan barely moved an eyelash. "What’s that got to do with you and Mr. Hillinger?"

"Well, it’s just that...just that...just--"

"Oh, come on, Birkoff, I’ve never seen you at a complete loss for words, boyo. As cute as it is, I’d appreciate an answer," Declan snapped sarcastically.

"About what?" Birkoff wished for a hole to open up in the floor. One large enough for his rumpled body to plunge through.

Declan removed his hand from Birkoff’s shoulder and circled him, not unlike the predator he resembled. He ran his fingers down Birkoff’s arm, feeling the goosebumps that arose as soon as he touched his bare skin. "I asked you a question, Birkoff..." He stared down at Birkoff’s nervously sweating face, but Birkoff was busily studying the nonexistent pattern of the floor tiles.

"Are you...attracted to...Mr. Hillinger?" Declan said very slowly, enunciating each word carefully. As he did, Declan slid his bare hand along the side of Birkoff’s face.

"No!" Birkoff shouted, hoping that would satisfy Declan’s curiosity.

"So you didn’t know he was gay?" Declan asked.

"No!" Birkoff exclaimed, incredulous at the turn the conversation was taking.

Taking his courage in both hands, Birkoff asked Declan a question of his own. "Then it’s true, that you and Madeline are having an affair?"

Declan slid his hand back up the side of Birkoff’s face, and Birkoff closed his eyes. He was getting aroused. He could feel it. God, he wanted to die right on the spot.

"You shouldn’t listen to bloody rumors. That can be a very...dangerous habit."

Birkoff opened his eyes to find Declan’s grey eyes peering intently at him. At close range. At very close range.

"Are you and Hillinger having an affair?" Declan countered, a smirk crookedly twisting his mouth.

"No! I’m not gay!" Birkoff yelled.

Declan smiled. A predatory smile. A smile that somehow captured the essence of what it was like to be Declan.

"Then neither am I, boyo."

Part 4

"Y-you’re gay???" Birkoff sputtered.

Suddenly an even more horrible thought crossed Birkoff’s tortured mind. "Are you and Hillinger having an affair?"

"Christ! I should have your mouth washed out with soap for even speaking such a disgusting thing!" Declan’s senses revolted at the very idea.

Declan paced two steps, then turned to face Birkoff again. "I don’t sleep with boys," he hissed.

"Oh!" Birkoff winced, realizing he had just made a very grave error. "I just assumed--"

"Assumption is the mother of all fuck-ups!" Declan spat.

Birkoff’s eyes grew positively huge in his face. "Thanks for pointing that out, Declan," he said weakly.

"I want you to do something for me, boyo."

"Anything," Birkoff said quickly.

Declan’s eyes narrowed. "Be careful what you agree to, boyo. You could wake up to find Hillinger in your bed, if you don’t watch out."

"Hillinger wants me? Like that? Ewww!" Birkoff felt sick.

Declan almost smiled, but not quite. Birkoff’s obvious distaste for his fellow Comm Op actually endeared him to Declan. Declan had no use for Hillinger either.

"As I was saying...I would like you to do something for me, boyo."

"Like?" Birkoff was now sitting so far back in his chair, he could go no farther without tipping the chair over.

"I want you to follow Mr. Hillinger and report back to me."

"That’s it?" Birkoff asked with a sigh of relief.

"Aye, that’s it. For now."

Birkoff almost scrambled out of the chair, trying to avoid any contact with Declan. He wasn’t sure why. Declan had assured him that he didn’t sleep with boys. Well, Birkoff thought, Declan must be having an affair with Madeline after all.

Why did that bother him? He wasn’t interested in Declan. What possible difference could it make if Declan was sleeping with anyone, including Hillinger? Birkoff involuntarily grimaced when he thought about that part, mentally apologizing to Hillinger for having such a low opinion of him.

Birkoff got to the door and turned, biting his lip. "So, um, how long did you want me to follow Hillinger?"

"Until I tell you otherwise."

Birkoff nodded. "Okay."

***

It never occurred to Birkoff to question why Declan, a Level 5 field op himself, would ask the head of Comm to do routine surveillance. On anyone. But especially on Hillinger.

He should have.

He found Hillinger relatively easy to follow. Hillinger never suspected that anyone, much less Birkoff, was on his trail, and he might not have cared, even if he knew. Hillinger was in pursuit. Of Declan.

Hillinger led Birkoff right to Declan’s quarters within the confines of Section One. Like Birkoff, Declan chose to live inside Section. His quarters were bigger than Birkoff’s, as befit his status, but not necessarily better. Birkoff knew his quarters were small, but he had no friends, except for Walter, and he did no entertaining. He was not exactly a social person.

Birkoff felt peculiar, spying on Hillinger like this, but he knew better than to defy an order given by Declan. Even if it sounded more like a request than an order.

***

Hillinger knocked on Declan’s door, his cherubic young face at odds with his considerable skill in manipulation. Smoothing a hand over his short hair, he checked his breath by exhaling into his palm. He chortled at the result. Kissable.

Declan came to the door, and Birkoff could see that he had changed out of his mission black leathers. His long red hair held back by a leather thong, now the only leather that Declan wore, Declan placed both hands in the back pockets of his jeans. Probably more out of a desire to keep from punching the living daylights out of Hillinger than anything else.

"Yes?" Declan said, exasperated at having to brush off this wiseass not once, but twice.

Hillinger smiled smugly. "Can I come in?"

"Not if you were bleeding to death. Any other questions?"

"Look, Declan, I know your little secret!" Hillinger snickered. "If you don’t let me in, I’ll tell everyone you’re gay and put the big moves on me!"

"And just who the hell do you think would believe you?" Declan didn’t sound the least bit defensive. In fact, he sounded as if he had anticipated Hillinger’s near-assault.

Declan waited. The younger man did not disappoint him. He left as quickly as he’d come. The threat over, Declan relaxed, one hip at odds with the other, his jeans pulling tightly across his groin.

Birkoff sighed. This was getting out of hand. He couldn’t be attracted to Declan, he just couldn’t. Even if he were gay, which he was not, he staunchly avowed, he couldn’t form a relationship with someone like Declan. Section would never sanction it. They might even cancel both of them.

Declan looked into the hallway, his pale grey eyes searching, searching till they located Birkoff. "Birkoff, why don’t you come in for a moment?"

"But he came here--I mean, why would you need a report when you were right here?" Birkoff hated the way he stammered when he felt pressured, and boy oh boy, did he feel pressured now.

"Why do you care why I want a report?" Declan’s tone was vaguely threatening, just enough to convince Birkoff to do as he was told.

***

Once inside, Birkoff gazed in awe at the interior of Declan’s quarters. The total opposite of Birkoff’s combination of high-tech gadgetry and old-world clutter. Very nice. He whistled out loud without realizing what he’d done.

Declan strode into the kitchenette in his sock feet, grabbing a plastic bottle of orange juice from the refrigerator. Swigging it back as if it were whiskey, Declan drank heartily from the bottle, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand when he was done.

"Got another question for you, Birkoff."

"Yeah?" Birkoff didn’t know why, but he felt curiously disquieted by Declan’s questions. They always seemed to lead somewhere else.

Declan moved closer to Birkoff, his beautiful silver eyes sparkling hypnotically at Birkoff. "Can I kiss you?"

Birkoff’s mouth dropped open and he gasped. "What?"

Declan stroked Birkoff’s face with his free hand. "It’s by way of an experiment."

"For what?"

"To see if you’re worth kissing, of course." Declan laughed merrily, his grey eyes dancing mischievously.

"Why would you want to kiss me, for Heaven’s sake?" Birkoff looked aghast, but his heart was thumping. Hard. The idea tantalized him no end.

Declan’s face drew closer. "You have the most beautiful honey mouth."

"Damn!" Birkoff blinked. "You *are* gay!"

Declan smiled against Birkoff’s mouth as he claimed it possessively. "And unless I miss my guess, so are you."

Part 5

Birkoff responded despite his desire not to. His mouth opened on a groan of such utter pleasure, he thought he would expire. "Jesus."

Declan drew back, his storm-colored eyes glittering dangerously. "You liked it, didn’t you, boyo?"

"Why the hell did you do that? What’s it matter to you what my sexual orientation is?" Birkoff was on low simmer already.

"Cause I want you to go to bed with me," Declan said softly.

"Oh, no, this isn’t any experiment! You want to seduce me, don’t you?"

"Maybe."

"But why? I know! This is a test! Another one of Section’s tests! You just want to see what I’ll do--"

"I know what you’ll do..." Declan trailed his fingertips over Birkoff’s lips, and to his complete amazement, Birkoff shuddered. "I just want you to do it with me," he added in a hoarse whisper.

"I’m not like that," Birkoff said, wondering if he really meant what he was saying.

"Like what?"

"You know, like you."

Declan sighed. "You know, Birkoff, I’m not looking to get married. I’m not even interested in romance." He provoked Birkoff by leaning even closer, and Birkoff was startled to find how much he actually wanted to touch Declan. Not there. God, no. But anywhere else.

Birkoff’s dark eyes flashed with something that might have been disappointment. "Oh," he said in a very small voice.

Declan noticed his reaction and wondered about it. "I’m not looking for a long-term relationship, Birkoff. Does that bother you?"

No, Birkoff thought, it doesn’t bother me. It should thrill the hell out of me. But it doesn’t. Great, it doesn’t matter whether I sleep with women or men. They both have absolutely no interest in any kind of relationship. What’s wrong with me? he wailed inwardly, struggling to keep his feelings off his face. Declan was by far too keen an observer to let something like that pass.

Birkoff crossed his arms, his body language suddenly defensive. "So how do you know I’m not just like Greg? How do you know I won’t just walk out of here and tell everybody I meet about *your* sexual orientation? What makes you think you can trust me?"

Declan considered a moment. His grey eyes suddenly hot, they were the color of molten silver. "Anyone meeting you, even for the first time, can see you’re nothing like Greg. Hillinger’s an asshole. But don’t quote me." Declan’s mouth curved into a delicious smile.

"As for trusting you..." Declan laughed. "I don’t trust anyone, boyo, not even you. Or should I say, especially you? You’ve got a great survival instinct, or you never would have lasted this long in Section. That tells me you don’t trust anyone either. So we’re pretty much even."

"How can you sleep with someone you don’t even trust?" Birkoff sounded horrified.

Declan touched the back of Birkoff’s neck, and Birkoff panicked, certain that Declan was going to kiss him again. If he did, he wouldn’t be responsible for what happened.

"I told you, I’m not looking for true love, Birkoff. I just want to sleep with you." Declan gazed at Birkoff intently.

"Just the one time then?" Birkoff bit his lip, wondering why he was even considering doing something like this. Jeez.

Declan nodded. "Does that make it easier, Birkoff? It’s not like I’m asking you to jeopardize your career by embracing an alternative lifestyle."

Declan’s words, even his tone, were so persuasive, Birkoff could not resist. Besides, Declan’s hands felt good on his skin. Maybe it wouldn’t be totally awful. And even if it was, it never had to happen again. Declan said so.

"But how do you know I won’t betray your secret, Declan?"

"You’re not stupid, Birkoff. Don’t make me threaten you." Declan’s face transformed back into the cold mask Birkoff was more familiar with.

Ah, abuse of power. Now there was something Birkoff understood. He was subject to its vagaries everyday, living in Section One.

"So..." Birkoff heaved a longsuffering breath. "Let’s get this over with."

Declan frowned. "There are no more missions going out tonight, Birkoff. There’s no reason you can’t sleep here with me. That gives us a lot more time together."

"Why the hell do we need more time? You said we were only going to do it once." Birkoff hated to be confrontational, but this entire thing was making him feel edgy, like his skin itched.

"Give me credit for a little finesse, Birkoff. You think I’m just going to jump your bones and be done with it?"

"Well," Birkoff’s eyes widened. "Isn’t that how it works?"

Declan’s silvery gaze slid over Birkoff’s face, making Birkoff feel curiously breathless. "Are you a virgin, Birkoff?"

"N-not exactly," Birkoff hedged.

"How many people have you slept with then?"

"Isn’t that a personal question, Declan? I don’t have to answer that!"

Declan laughed. "I can’t think of anything more personal than sex, Birkoff. But maybe you know something I don’t."

"Somehow I doubt that," Birkoff muttered under his breath, but Declan heard him.

That he didn’t order him canceled on the spot probably told Birkoff more than he wanted to know. Declan liked him. For some damn reason.

Declan whispered in Birkoff’s ear, "I’ll be gentle with you, boyo. Don’t worry." He kissed Birkoff’s ear, and Birkoff closed his eyes on a wave of sensation.

Declan was pretty good at this.

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad after all.

Part 6

Birkoff bit his lip. "Is this safe?"

"I’m clean, if that’s what you mean," Declan said, mildly amused by the question. He supposed it was a logical question under the circumstances, but then, Birkoff didn’t know Declan. Declan hadn’t slept with anyone in years. Celibate by choice, he assumed that he would eventually succumb to someone special someday. Or so he hoped. But he wasn’t about to share such a revealing piece of information with Birkoff.

Birkoff shifted uncomfortably under Declan’s scrutiny. "Um, this isn’t going to hurt, is it?"

Declan blinked. "Hurt? I’m not into pain myself. Why would it hurt?"

Birkoff actually blushed. "I mean, if you, you know..."

"Ohhh...." Declan pushed Birkoff back against the door of his quarters. With a deep sigh, Declan ran his fingers under Birkoff’s shapeless shirt, eventually palming his nipples. Declan bent his head to Birkoff’s mouth, tugging his lower lip into his own mouth to suckle.

Birkoff closed his eyes and trembled. It was just a fine tremor, but unmistakable, especially to someone as perceptive as Declan. Declan released Birkoff’s lip then, his tongue flicking out to caress it one more time before moving away.

"God," Birkoff said, completely unaware that he had spoken aloud.

Declan’s eyes darkened nearly to black. "I can make you hot enough to forget about anything else. Including pain."

"Please...I have no idea what to do." Birkoff was lost. This was beyond his limited realm of experience.

Declan leaned closer, his mouth grazing Birkoff’s. "You don’t have to do anything. Just let me...take care of everything."

***

If Declan expected Birkoff to take a passive role, he was right. But if he expected Birkoff to merely close his eyes and pretend this wasn’t happening, he was wrong.

True to his word, Declan was gentle. He rained warm, wet, open-mouthed kisses upon Birkoff until Birkoff could barely think.

His dark chocolate eyes glazed with passion, Birkoff whispered, "I thought you said you don’t sleep with boys. Am I an exception for a reason?"

Declan smiled rapaciously. "I never sleep with boys, boyo. No exceptions."

Birkoff frowned. "But--"

Declan kissed him, his tongue sliding between his lips, penetrating the warm inner recesses of Birkoff’s mouth. Breathless himself, Declan whispered, "You’re not a boy, Birkoff. You might have no experience to speak of, but...you’re...definitely...not a boy."

Birkoff groaned, unable to suppress the feelings Declan was arousing any longer.

Declan nuzzled Birkoff’s neck, kissing the spot where his pulse beat strongly at the base of his throat. Birkoff gasped, "Dammit, Declan, if you leave a mark, everyone’s going to know!"

Declan smiled against his neck, his tongue licking lightly at the spot his mouth had just left. "They’ll think you’re a stud, Birkoff. They won’t know who you were with."

Birkoff would have smiled if he hadn’t been so excited. Whatever Declan was doing was working. It was making him forget who was touching him. No, that wasn’t quite true. He was definitely aware it was Declan. But it was assuaging whatever anxiety he’d had about being with a man.

"Um..." Birkoff had never experienced this kind of slow lovemaking before. It was as if Declan was determined to savor him. "I feel like dessert."

"You’re hungry?" Declan asked.

"No, you make me feel like...um, like you’re having me for dessert." Birkoff closed his eyes then, hoping to avoid another fit of blushing.

Declan hid a smile. "You *are* a scrumptious little morsel."

Birkoff opened his eyes. "Not so little, dammit. Why does everyone keep saying that?"

Declan stopped kissing his neck. "I dunno, boyo. Why do they think you’re little?" Declan slid his hand between Birkoff’s legs, touching the bump there. "This isn’t a bit little."

"Um...I wouldn’t do that if I were you," Birkoff warned.

Declan made a noise deep in his throat, somewhere between derision and noncompliance. Bit by bit, he began kissing Birkoff’s body, replacing his hands with his mouth. "Sooner or later, I’m going to have to taste you, boyo."

Birkoff made a strangled noise when Declan’s teeth gently nipped at his skin. "Oh, no." Birkoff flamed bright red, trying to turn his face into the pillow. Sheesh, could he possibly disgrace himself any further? He couldn’t help it. He wasn’t used to such...sensual technique. On top of that, his lack of sexual experience in general made him unusually vulnerable to anyone relatively expert.

Declan lay his head against Birkoff’s heaving stomach. The poor boy was trying so hard to control his desire, but it was quite beyond him. Declan himself was having a hard time holding back the almost overwhelming urge to bury himself deep within Birkoff’s slender young body.

Declan excused himself for a moment, padding into the bathroom. When he returned, he held a cool cloth, which he used to clean Birkoff’s groin. Birkoff wanted to die. Right then and there. There was absolutely no way he could ever forget that this happened. As brief as it was, it was the best sex he had ever had.

"I’m sorry," he whispered to Declan.

Declan glanced up at Birkoff, his eyes reflecting his surprise at the apology. "For what, boyo? You think this is the first time this ever happened?"

"It’s the first time it ever happened to me."

Once again, Declan was struck by the underlying pain in Birkoff’s voice. There was something deeply tragic in Birkoff somewhere. But it wasn’t his place to discover it.

"Don’t worry about it, boyo," Declan declared softly, his voice utterly devoid of anything but kindness.

"I guess I’d better get dressed and go," Birkoff said, trying to sound casual. But deep down, he felt anything but casual. This experience had rocked his little world. Maybe even changed him forever. How was he supposed to go on as if nothing happened?

Declan moved then, covering Birkoff’s body with his own. When Birkoff felt Declan’s arousal against his stomach, he swallowed hard. Declan was so goddamned beautiful. How on earth was he attracted to someone like Birkoff? Birkoff sometimes thought of himself as a sparrow, small and dull, clad all in brown. Why would a colorful peacock like Declan want a sparrow?

"I didn’t say you could leave yet, Birkoff." Declan knew that pulling rank like this was the worst abuse one human being could heap on another. But it seemed like the only way to convince Birkoff to stay. If Declan gave him any choice in the matter at all, he knew Birkoff would bolt.

Birkoff looked so torn. It was obvious that he wanted to stay, but the poor boy had no idea what he was getting into. Declan kissed him, again and again, relentlessly moving against Birkoff’s body. "Stay," Declan whispered in Birkoff’s ear, "and I’ll make you forget what happened the first time."

Oh no, Birkoff thought, I don’t want to forget the first time. It was the nicest thing that anyone ever did for me. He didn’t understand Declan. Here he was, this big, powerful, Level 5 field op, without any entanglements. Wasting his time on Birkoff.

Declan would have turned Birkoff over onto his stomach, to make his entry into his body easier for both of them, but he wanted to see Birkoff’s face. He wanted to see Birkoff’s eyes at the moment of impact. Then again, at the moment of completion. Raising Birkoff’s hand to his lips, Declan kissed it. "I swear I will try not to hurt you. Do you want me to stop, boyo?" Declan asked softly, praying that Birkoff didn’t say ‘yes’.

Birkoff shook his head silently.

When Declan entered him finally, Birkoff gritted his teeth. It was not the most comfortable sensation he had ever experienced, but then, he was so anxious, how could he possibly enjoy anything ever again?

As if reading Birkoff’s mind, Declan began to kiss him again, even as he moved within him. "Relax, boyo."

Birkoff tried to no avail.

Declan could feel the tension in Birkoff’s body, and he almost gave up but for one thing. The fact that Birkoff was able to climax before was significant. It didn’t matter that he couldn’t quite control the timing. The fact was, he had responded to Declan’s lovemaking.

"You want me, don’t you?" Declan whispered against Birkoff’s ear, thinking he could open him up that way.

"God, yes," Birkoff admitted reluctantly, fearful that Declan would make him leave if he weren’t truthful.

Declan kissed him, his mouth moving expertly over Birkoff’s. Gasping, Declan began to feel his own control unravel.

"I’m going to give you something, Birkoff. Something no one else has had in a very long time."

"What?" Birkoff asked, becoming aroused again. It seemed he could not withstand Declan’s sensual assault forever.

"This," Declan said urgently, spilling himself inside Birkoff’s no longer unwilling body.

Declan buried his face against Birkoff’s shoulder, shivering at the feel of Birkoff’s body under his.

Running his hands over Birkoff’s velvety-soft buzz cut hair, Declan sighed. "Did you ever consider growing your hair a bit longer?"

"Whatever for?"

"So I can have something to run my fingers through, what did you think?" Declan laughed.

"Then we’re going to do this again?"

"Oh, yeah..." Declan said with a contented sigh, his nose pressed against Birkoff’s jaw.

"Declan?"

"Yes?"

"Can I touch yours?"

Declan looked startled. "Boyo, you can touch anything you want right now."

Part 7

Birkoff ran his fingers tentatively through Declan’s long red hair. "Your hair is so...beautiful," he said softly.

"Yours would be, if you’d let it grow a bit."

Birkoff blushed. He just couldn’t accept a compliment gracefully. "How would I explain that?"

Declan frowned. "Why do you feel compelled to explain anything? Your life is your own, isn’t it?"

Birkoff sighed heavily. "That’s a long story. One I’m sure you don’t have time to hear."

Birkoff shifted away from Declan’s appraisal, but Declan grabbed his chin in his hands and forced Birkoff to meet his eyes. "Don’t ever turn your back on me," Declan commanded. It sounded like exactly what it was, an order. Birkoff responded accordingly.

But he hadn’t lost his attitude. "Bet you’re used to getting what you want."

Declan nodded, his eyes turning an icy grey. "Pretty much."

"Then why don’t you just order me to service you, like some freaking whore?" Birkoff spat out, his dark eyes flashing angrily. "I mean, it’s not like I’m a real person or anything."

Declan’s eyes abruptly lost their chill. Someone had hurt Birkoff. Badly. Declan was just a stand-in for all that rage.

"Come here." Declan’s voice was deceptively soft, yet firm.

Birkoff put one knee on the bed, and before he knew it, he was lying flat on his back, all the wind knocked out of him. Declan was fast. Faster than fast. Declan bent over Birkoff, his long red curls trailing across Birkoff’s face, teasing him until he wanted to scream.

"Let me show you something."

With that, Declan began kissing his way down Birkoff’s body, stopping only when he came to his arousal. His hands gently cradling Birkoff’s arousal, Declan licked his way up and down the length of it. It grew hard and almost impossibly stiff in his hands.

Declan took him in his mouth, releasing his grip, using only his tongue and his mouth to relieve the ache that throbbed through Birkoff. Birkoff moved involuntarily, spreading his legs wider, arching his back, pushing his hips towards Declan. He groaned as Declan worked his magic on him, knowing he didn’t have the control or the experience to withstand very much of this.

But when he felt that he was approaching climax, Birkoff struggled to get away. Declan held him fast, refusing to let him move. "Declan, no! Don’t!"

Declan didn’t ask him why. He knew why. Birkoff was afraid to relinquish control to Declan, in any way, no matter how insignificant, and this...this was hardly insignificant. "Please..." Birkoff whimpered.

Birkoff knew it was too late. He gasped as he flung himself out into space, but much to his surprise, he wasn’t alone when he fell back to earth. His hands tangling restlessly in Declan’s hair, Birkoff sobbed for a couple of breaths before regaining control.

Declan swallowed, but some of the evidence of what just happened was still on his lips. Birkoff stared at him. He didn’t know what to say. He felt as though he should apologize, but for what?

Declan trailed his arm across Birkoff’s chest as he made his way back up to his face. Birkoff’s lower lip trembled as he met Declan’s eyes. He wasn’t sure what exactly happened here, but something felt different. "No one’s ever done that for me before," he whispered, not sure whether he meant the sex or the unconditional acceptance of who he was.

"I know, boyo," Declan said, nodding slightly. He lay beside Birkoff, his head on the pillow, his fingers absently stroking Birkoff’s face. He’d given Birkoff a gift he hadn’t meant to give. But he couldn’t take it back. He didn’t have the heart to take it back.

This was a moment he had long awaited. It had been a long time in the planning. Declan was not an impulsive man. He had watched and waited for the right moment to manipulate Birkoff into the place he was now. His bed. Foolishly, he’d thought it was an itch he could scratch once and forget. Now he knew better.

Once Birkoff fell asleep, Declan dared to live out his own fantasy. Wrapping his arms around Birkoff, he drew him into a tight embrace, smiling as Birkoff rested his head under Declan’s chin. Moments later, Declan too was asleep. There would be time enough for further lessons in the morning.

Part 8

Birkoff lay awake for a long time before he made his move. Staring at Declan’s face. So peaceful in sleep. So different. Softer. Younger. Sighing, he watched him sleep.

How had things gotten so complicated so fast? One minute, he was operating under the delusion that he was in charge of himself. The next, he was giving up control to someone he barely knew. Someone he...no, he told himself, don’t even go there. Don’t finish that sentence.

He didn’t know what love was. He had never had any. His parents were abusive at worst, neglectful at best. He was a non-entity. For them, Birkoff did not really exist. He was a thing that took up space in their home. A thing that ate, drank, and slept there. And when he got in their way, which was often, for any attention was better than no attention, he found out just how unimportant he was. They gave him away. Almost literally. To Section.

There was nothing he could do to change the past. There was nothing he could do to affect the future. But he had the present. This moment. This time with Declan. He could pretend that they actually meant something to one another. What a concept, Birkoff, he chided himself. As if you matter to someone like him.

"Declan," he whispered. Declan stirred briefly in his sleep, but otherwise didn’t move.

Birkoff reached out and let his fingers stroke Declan’s cheek. Breathless with excitement, not to mention the danger of being discovered, Birkoff continued his lengthy perusal of Declan’s body. Slowly dragging his hands down Declan’s chest and abdomen, Birkoff jumped when Declan turned to the other side in his sleep.

Now that Declan was facing away from him, Birkoff could study his back. His back was firm and well-developed, his skin fair and untouched by the sun. Birkoff’s mouth went dry as he dared to touch Declan’s buttocks. His skin was so soft, yet his muscles so hard. Very slowly, Birkoff crept closer, pressing a kiss to the base of Declan’s spine.

Biting his lip until it bled, Birkoff struggled with conflicting feelings for several moments before proceeding. Closing his eyes, he wrapped his arms around Declan’s chest, pressing his mouth to Declan’s shoulder. His arousal touched Declan’s buttocks, and Birkoff groaned softly. Jesus, what would Declan think if he woke up now and found him experimenting on his body without his permission or even his knowledge?

Unbeknownst to Birkoff, Declan was very much awake. He hadn’t risen to the level of a Class 5 field op without developing a sixth sense for people approaching, even when he was asleep. But he kept his eyes and mouth shut, wondering just how far Birkoff would go on his own.

Birkoff watched as Declan turned again, this time onto his back, his arms flung over his face. He waited until he was sure Declan was deeply asleep once more, and then he moved. His breath coming in anxious gasps, he knew he would never have the courage to attempt something like this while Declan was awake. Cupping Declan’s arousal, Birkoff slid his tongue around it hesitantly.

Oh, God, thought Declan, trying not to react visibly, I’ve died and gone to Heaven.

Birkoff’s tongue slipped over the soft surface of Declan’s growing arousal. He could feel him respond, the pulse that throbbed through his arousal told him whatever he was doing was certainly adequate. He licked lightly at the tip, realizing instantly that must be a particularly sensitive area, since Declan moaned.

Suddenly aware just how close to awake Declan might be, Birkoff began to move away, withdrawing the warmth of his tongue and his mouth. Declan didn’t even pretend to be asleep anymore. "Don’t go, boyo, please," he begged in a husky whisper.

"W-was it all right? What I’m doing? I mean--" Birkoff somehow managed to stammer.

"Better than all right," Declan purred in that smoke-and-bourbon voice. "Please...don’t stop."

Knowing what Declan was asking him to do, Birkoff gulped. He didn’t know if he could. It was one thing to touch him, even to caress him so intimately with his mouth. But to let him climax in his mouth? Shit, it sent shivers down his spine. Just thinking about it made him ache. He wanted to, God, he wanted to, but could he do it?

He rubbed himself between his legs, somehow sensing that if he was aroused enough, he would get so hot, he could take Declan’s arousal in his mouth and willingly swallow all of him.

Declan reached for Birkoff and helped him rearrange his body so that they lay head to toe facing each other. Because Birkoff was so much shorter than Declan, he was able to position himself, with Declan’s help. Declan grasped Birkoff’s arousal in his hands and gently stroked him. Birkoff was momentarily distracted by the wave of pleasure this produced, but he regained his focus surprisingly quickly, beginning to nibble daintily at Declan.

Declan squirmed under the excellent ministrations of Birkoff. He wanted to grab his hair, but laughed when he realized that Birkoff had nothing to hold onto.

Birkoff nibbled, taking great care not to hurt Declan, and Declan finally began to ignore Birkoff’s groin in favor of his own compelling need.

Declan arched his back, then flung himself back against the bed with considerable force, dislodging his arousal from Birkoff’s mouth. "Oh, Christ!" Declan shouted, climaxing quite literally in Birkoff’s face. Birkoff merely closed his eyes and accepted what happened, Declan’s climax spattering his mouth and cheeks.

When it was done, Birkoff didn’t know what else to do. But Declan did. He pulled Birkoff into a new embrace, kissing him, licking him, biting at his mouth until Birkoff was completely clean. "Do you have any idea how wonderful you are?" Declan whispered.

His finger tracing its way across Birkoff’s upper lip, Declan regarded him with a fierce new light in his pale grey eyes. He didn’t smile, but somehow Birkoff knew that he was looking at him with genuine affection.

It *was* wonderful, this moment out of time. But it was scary, too. Especially for someone like Birkoff, who was so easily washed asea by his own overpowering emotions. So Declan shouldn’t have been surprised by what happened next.

Birkoff smiled shyly and stood up, his pale slender body silhouetted against the light from the bathroom. Declan reached for him, his arms closing on thin air. "Wh-where are you going, boyo?"

Birkoff pointed to the bathroom. "To the bathroom."

Declan relaxed then, taking Birkoff at his word. He should have known.

Birkoff leaned over, grabbed his pants from the floor, and ran through the door before Declan could stop him. Declan moaned, this time in distress, not pleasure. For a moment...just a moment...Declan had started to believe in happily ever after. Even in a place like Section.

Maybe they could have belonged to each other. Maybe....

Part 9

Birkoff made it all the way back to his own quarters without seeing one other person. Thank God. He ran inside, slammed the door, locked it, and then raced into the bathroom.

He stared at his face, certain there must be some telltale sign of what he’d just done written all over it. Surely there should be some outward sign. Something visible. Then he saw it. His neck. Where Declan had kissed and nuzzled and yes, sucked on his neck. A mark. A bruise.

His dark eyes filled with tears. This couldn’t be happening. Not to him. Not to his well-ordered life. His life felt completely manageable, the way it had been. Okay, it was dull. Boring. Except for the occasional death threat from Ops. But hey, he’d learned to live with those. And he *was* still here.

He touched the spot on his neck. It didn’t hurt. In fact, he thought, almost breathless, he could still feel Declan’s mouth on him. He closed his eyes. Oh, God. It was worse than he thought. He was not only gay, he was in love. With another man. With a mean-as-shit, freaking powerful man.

He didn’t deserve this. A tear fell and trickled down his pale, cold cheek. He felt enough crushing guilt for things he *had* done. This wasn’t something he had sought out. He might have gone on, listlessly hanging onto life, for years, without ever confronting his true sexuality. But then...

...he wouldn’t have known Declan.

He ran his hands over his head, feeling the peach fuzz that comprised his hair. For one night, Declan made him feel...well, like someone who mattered. Someone he could maybe even love. Birkoff buried his face in his hands. It felt like someone had ripped off his skin, leaving his nerves exposed to the world. How was he going to go on after this?

Like nothing ever happened?

Like nothing ever happened.

***

If Hillinger noticed how withdrawn Birkoff was, he wisely never mentioned it. Which was odd. But then...Hillinger was biding his time. Waiting for a moment to blindside Birkoff.

When Comm finally began to fill up, as late missions returned and early missions went out, Hillinger struck. Always after the maximum capacity audience.

"Hey, Sey-mour!" Hillinger whined in that annoying, sing-song voice he employed for occasions like this. He glanced at the other operatives milling around Comm. "Who gave you the love bite, Super-Stud?"

Hillinger cackled maniacally, tilting himself back in his chair. Birkoff didn’t even think twice. He flew across Comm, tackling Hillinger by the throat. He might even have succeeded in choking him if several operatives hadn’t intervened, pulling Birkoff’s slender body off the fresh-mouthed Comm op.

"Let it go, Birkoff," said Davenport. "He ain’t worth your spit."

Birkoff glanced at the older field operative, knowing he spoke the truth. "You know, Greg, as of now, you’re relieved of duty."

Hillinger automatically protested. "You can’t do that, Seymour! Shit, how am I going to explain that to Operations?"

Birkoff grinned, a feral smile that almost scared Hillinger. "That’s your problem! And just for the record, you’re not my freaking boss, Greg, you’re not even my peer! You’re my freaking assistant! And I suggest...you start acting like it!" Birkoff’s voice had a new tone in it, one that brooked no refusal. Hillinger gave up his challenge of Birkoff. For now.

Birkoff sat down in his chair, not even aware that some of the operatives were openly admiring the way he put Hillinger in his place. It was about time. They liked Birkoff, almost to a man, and they never understood how he put up with Hillinger’s games.

Birkoff turned his attention back to the mission going out. He hadn’t seen Declan yet this morning. Maybe he could explain why he ran out on him. Maybe he would listen.

Just then, Declan walked into Comm, his silver-grey eyes seemingly searching for something. Clad in mission black again, Declan paused by the back of Birkoff’s chair. Birkoff had never felt so incredibly aware of anything in all his life. He swore he could hear Declan breathing behind him. Declan’s hand came down on his shoulder, and despite his awareness, Birkoff jumped.

Declan’s hand pushed the collar of Birkoff’s shirt away from his neck, exposing the bruise again. Of course, Declan knew where to look. He’d put it there. His leather-clad hand trailed softly over the bruised area on Birkoff’s neck. "That’s quite a mark you have there, Birkoff."

Birkoff nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

Declan stared at him impassively, never letting a trace of whatever underlying emotion was driving him show on his face. "Someone must have enjoyed inflicting that on you," he said in a low voice.

Birkoff had all he could do not to shiver visibly. Too little sleep and too raw emotions were taking their toll on him. "I guess," he agreed.

Birkoff’s non-committal answer didn’t seem to please Declan. His hand dropped away from Birkoff’s neck instantly. "Not someone you’re close to, then?" Declan asked.

Birkoff shook his head, his dark eyes bereft of any coherent thought.

"That’s a shame," Declan said.

"It is," Birkoff nodded.

***

When Declan returned from his mission hours later, he was tired. But still, he made time to walk the long way around to his office and stop in Comm. It was like a sore tooth that he couldn’t stop probing. He was not disappointed. Birkoff was still there. But so was Hillinger.

Declan sighed. He couldn’t order Hillinger to leave. It was his normal work area. If he told the Comm op to go, people would grow suspicious.

"Birkoff?" Declan called softly, as he approached.

Birkoff turned his head briefly, seemingly unaware of the effect he had on Declan. "Yeah?"

"Can I see you in my office?" It wasn’t an order, and they both knew it.

Part 10

Hillinger had only recently returned to duty after Birkoff’s earlier sanction of him. Now, thanks to Birkoff, Hillinger was forced to do an additional tour. Operations actually sided with Birkoff. Sheesh. What was the world coming to?

***

Declan closed the door to his office, indicating with a sweep of his hand that Birkoff should sit down. Declan unobtrusively locked the door, not that that ever stopped anyone with clearance from coming in. But it reassured him. Tapping the anti-surveillance device on the side of his desk, Declan sat down.

Removing his leather gloves, Declan folded his hands carefully in front of him. "We need to talk," he said in a low voice, despite the fact that they could no longer be overheard.

"About what?" Birkoff looked back at Declan quite blankly. He’d had an entire day away from Declan to re-insulate his emotions and distance himself from the field op. There was absolutely no percentage in wanting something that could never be.

"About what happened last night."

"What happened last night?" Birkoff asked, almost convincingly innocent.

"Christ! Stop playing games, boyo!" Declan was tired. Tired and exasperated. He’d finally decided that some things in this life were worth pursuing. Even if they didn’t wish to be caught.

He stood up suddenly, pacing around the desk until he reached Birkoff’s side. Nearly ripping the collar from Birkoff’s shirt, he put his hand right over the bruise on Birkoff’s neck. "This! This happened last night! And you damn well know it!"

"Oh, was that you?" Birkoff asked sweetly.

Declan whipped Birkoff around in the chair, glaring at him fiercely. Wrenching him out of the chair, Declan stared deeply into Birkoff’s dark eyes for almost a full minute. Then he kissed him.

Right there. In his office.

He kissed him, as hard as he could, grinding his mouth against Birkoff’s, perhaps in an effort to imprint himself on Birkoff’s body and mind. Forever. Declan framed his face with his hands, holding onto Birkoff as though he were something precious, even as he plundered his mouth rapaciously.

When Declan drew back, he was breathing hard. His lips looked swollen, lovebitten, as did Birkoff’s.

"What was that for?" Birkoff whispered.

The realization that Birkoff might be more of a challenge than even Declan could handle ran through Declan’s mind. Briefly. He wasn’t accustomed to letting people know what he was thinking. He didn’t want to start now.

Declan shoved Birkoff back and paced angrily back to his desk. But he didn’t sit. He couldn’t. He was far too restless. Rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand, Declan leaned against the back of the desk. Maybe he should just give up and go on to bed. It had been a hard day. Tomorrow would be no better.

A moment later, he felt something tugging at him. He looked down to see Birkoff crouched on the floor, kneeling between his legs. "What are you doing?" he exclaimed.

Birkoff ran his hand over Declan’s groin, still encased in black leather. Pleased at the response that engendered, Birkoff slid his palms up and down the insides of Declan’s leather-clad thighs. Declan spread his booted feet further apart, perhaps unconsciously, allowing Birkoff greater access to his body. "Christ, you’re such a freaking tease..."

Birkoff almost laughed. "You taught me what I know, Declan."

Declan’s eyes glowed like hot silver. "Did I then? Let’s see how good a teacher I am."

Birkoff slid the zipper down on Declan’s black leather pants, releasing his arousal from its prison. Taking Declan’s arousal into his mouth, the way Declan had done to him the night before, Birkoff sighed. He loved the silken feel of Declan’s skin in his hands, in his mouth.

Declan flung his head back, his mission black cap falling off, his long red curls escaping to tumble down his back and over his shoulders. His hands on Birkoff’s shoulders, he couldn’t quite believe this was happening. Here. Now.

A sound at the door galvanized both of them. Declan stared in utter horror as Hillinger appeared in the doorway. "You don’t think an ordinary lock can keep someone like me out, do you?"

Hillinger couldn’t see Birkoff. Birkoff was hidden behind the desk. He couldn’t even see Declan’s lower body, as Declan stood with his back to him. But that didn’t stop Declan from worrying about what could happen. Any moment.

Birkoff continued to nibble at Declan’s arousal, all the while secretly enjoying his discomfiture at Hillinger’s intrusion.

"Hillinger, get lost," Declan commanded.

"Not unless you talk to me first," Hillinger whined.

"About what, for Christ’s sake?" Declan snapped angrily.

"About us," Hillinger moaned.

"Us? There was never an us! What the hell are you talking about?" Declan was at the end of his rope. Hillinger was as good as dead.

"I want you!" Hillinger exclaimed passionately.

Birkoff nearly nibbled too hard when he heard that last remark, and Declan winced. He moved one hand to the back of Birkoff’s neck and pressed a warning. If you do that again, you’ll be sorry.

"Well, I don’t want you!" Declan shouted.

Birkoff slid his tongue up and down the hard length of Declan’s arousal, and it was all Declan could do to keep his mind focused on getting Hillinger to leave. Groaning softly, Declan stroked Birkoff’s non-existent hair with his fingertips.

"You sick or something?" Hillinger asked, a puzzled look on his face.

"I must be...coming down...with something..." Declan bit his lip in an effort to suppress further groaning.

Hillinger had to leave. He just had to. Declan was going to climax soon, whether he wanted to or not. Birkoff’s mouth was relentless.

"You should stop in Medlab. You don’t sound too hot."

Declan forced himself to acknowledge Hillinger’s comment, ecstatic when he finally left. "Hot?" he said to Birkoff, "If I got any hotter, I’d freaking explode."

Birkoff smiled. "And you, I should be bloody angry with you, torturing me that way the entire time Hillinger was here."

Declan started to breathe erratically. Birkoff turned his hot dark eyes on Declan. "Are you going to come now?"

Declan stared at him helplessly. "You want me to come for you?"

Birkoff ran his hands under Declan’s arousal, feeling a certain satisfaction in knowing he was able to bring someone as experienced as Declan to climax. That was all it took to force Declan to completion. Groaning uncontrollably, he enjoyed one more second of sweet anticipation before pouring himself like molten honey into his lover’s delicious mouth.

As soon as the last spasm shook Declan, Birkoff stood up, running his hands through Declan’s wondrous hair before kissing him, letting him taste the love he’d given him.

"Am I doing it right now, Declan?" Birkoff whispered.

"Christ," Declan swore. I’ve created a monster.

Part 11

Madeline rapped on Declan’s half-open door before entering his office. Declan unconsciously came to attention, adjusting his clothing surreptitiously. Birkoff appeared suddenly next to him, unobtrusively wiping his mouth.

Declan patted Birkoff on the back. "Thanks for running that intel over. It saved me a walk."

"No problem," said Birkoff, racing past Madeline without looking at her.

Madeline turned and stared after Birkoff for a moment. "I swear that boy gets stranger everyday," she mused out loud.

Declan had no intention of discussing Birkoff with Madeline. Clearing his throat, he called Madeline’s attention back to what brought her to his office.

Madeline smiled. "Oh, yes, Declan, I have a surprise for you. You’re going to be paying a visit to Oversight soon."

"Me?" Declan said, not a little consternation in his voice.

"Yes, they’re very impressed with your numbers. I think they might want you for one of the other Sections. It would mean a boost upwards, Declan. It would be a good career move."

"Move?" Declan echoed, a puzzled frown etching his fine features.

"Well, you didn’t expect to stay here in One forever, did you?" Madeline chuckled, certain that Declan would warm to the idea once he’d had a chance to get used to it. After all, Declan was not only a great operative, but ambitious as well.

"No, of course not," Declan replied tersely.

Almost caught in the act by Maddy. And now this. Could things possibly get any worse?

***

Well, they could, actually.

Declan walked into Comm the next day, astonished to find that he had been selected for a Valentine mission. Oh, no, this wasn’t happening. It wasn’t just that Declan preferred his own sex for lovemaking, it wasn’t that he hated women. He didn’t. But he had a philosophical problem with exploiting anyone. And to him, this type of mission was the most exploitative of them all.

He tried to get it changed, but Madeline stood firm. She knew he was gay. Declan confided in her shortly after his brother Justin and his entire terrorist team were canceled. In fact, Madeline was well aware that she was lending Declan protection she rarely offered anyone else. She knew the entire Section thought they were having an affair, and because it served a useful purpose, she allowed the rumors to continue circulating.

However, Operations was pushing for Declan to prove himself in this area. He was convinced that Declan would be extremely persuasive in the sensual arena. He was right, he just had the wrong sex.

So it was that Declan was not in the best of moods when he approached Birkoff. "Have you seen the profile?"

Birkoff nodded.

Declan searched the surrounding area, gratified to see that Hillinger was nowhere to be found. "What do you think of it?" he whispered.

Birkoff raised an eyebrow imperiously. "What do *I* think? What the hell difference does it make what *I* think?" he hissed.

Declan cleared his throat and bent over the Comm head’s shoulder, so close Birkoff could feel his breath on the side of his face. "I’m going to have to sleep with the target, boyo. Doesn’t that bother you just a little?"

Birkoff flushed. Birkoff understood how Section worked, perhaps better than anyone else. He was well-used to its idiosyncrasies and its quirks, but he did not like its callous disregard for its own operatives’ feelings.

"If you sleep with the target, Declan, I’m sure it’ll just be part of the job."

"Won’t it be hard...for you to watch?" Declan asked, studying Birkoff’s face for any kind of tension at all.

But Birkoff’s calm remained curiously untouchable. "I have better things to do than watch you sleep."

Declan couldn’t resist a well-aimed barb in his direction. "I doubt if we’ll be sleeping."

Birkoff turned and faced Declan, an angry quiver in his lower lip. "What do you want me to say, Declan? That I’m jealous?"

Declan flushed in response. "Well, aren’t you?" he countered.

Birkoff looked like he very well might cry. "Yes, dammit," he hissed.

Declan wanted to kiss him for having the courage to admit that. Not that he was ready to admit the same. He sometimes thought about Hillinger eyeing Birkoff in his predatory way and wondered if Hillinger had designs on him. He knew they fought like cats and dogs, but that could be a sign of a burgeoning attraction.

But he needed to say something to Birkoff. "It’s going to be one of the hardest things I’ve ever done," he said softly.

"I doubt that," Birkoff replied, his voice still hostile.

Declan looked around Comm again, deeply concerned about showing any unusual attention to Birkoff. Leaning forward, he whispered into Birkoff’s ear, "I’ll be thinking of you."

Birkoff gasped, totally flustered by Declan’s response. That was when he thought that he should say something about how he felt. But before he could form a coherent thought...

...Hillinger entered Comm.

Hillinger's ass was grass.

Just ask Declan. Or Birkoff.

Part 12

The corridor was dark. There was a tiny bit of light down at the end of it, making it look like a tunnel that led somewhere. Somewhere better. A figure moved out of the shadows. Birkoff.

Declan moved down the corridor quickly, not that he was being followed. There wasn’t a soul around. This was a relatively deserted area, occasionally used by operatives seeking a clandestine meeting place. For one reason or another.

But his urgency was not borne out of a desire to elude capture by an unseen enemy. It was desire, pure and simple. A chance to meet with his lover one last time before a mission that filled him with disgust and trepidation.

Declan stood in the light, his tall, lean figure outlined in silhouette. He looked like a holy knight to Birkoff. Birkoff gazed at Declan, rapture never far from his mind when he saw him.

"Declan," he breathed. "The mission leaves in twenty."

"I know." Declan’s mood was almost somber. As if he missed Birkoff already. "Come here."

With a tiny cry, Birkoff was in his arms. He lay his head against Declan’s chest, listening to Declan’s heartbeat, strong and steady in his ear. Declan wrapped both arms around Birkoff’s upper body, uncaring if Birkoff guessed how he felt. He pressed a kiss to the top of Birkoff’s head, feeling the peach-fuzz tickle his lips, and smiled.

"I don’t want you to go, Declan."

"I don’t want to leave you either, boyo." Declan’s confession stunned both of them.

"I thought you didn’t want a relationship." Birkoff’s dark eyes were shiny. Was he crying? Declan felt his armor crack.

"I didn’t." Declan’s words fell into the deafening silence. "But it looks like I’ve got one."

"Declan, I--"

Declan pressed a fingertip to Birkoff’s lips, holding him tight. "Don’t, boyo. Save those words for when I come back to you."

Birkoff sighed. Did Declan mean he had something to tell him, too?

He felt Declan’s mouth moving against his hair, but he couldn’t make out the words. He wanted to belong to Declan. In his heart, he knew he already did. But he didn’t trust his emotional judgment. He’d made so many damn mistakes down that road before.

Who knew where this would go?

Part 13

When the Valentine mission began, Birkoff wished he could be anywhere but in Section One. If he could have run the mission with his eyes closed, quite literally, he would have. It was bad enough thinking about Declan being with someone else. But to be forced to watch him having sex with someone else? He refused to let it wreak its havoc with him, even though he suspected his heart would break when Declan consummated the union with the target.

His hands poised over the keyboard, Birkoff put his mind on automatic, something he was forced to do when someone he cared about was in jeopardy. Like Nikita. Or Walter. Or God forbid, sometimes even Michael.

Declan’s voice came over his headset, loud and clear. "Team 1, move to first mark." Declan must have touched his comm link then, for Birkoff heard something else come over B channel. "Birkoff? Are you getting this?"

Birkoff leaned forward unconsciously, as if straining to be closer to wherever Declan was. "Yes. I hear you, Declan." He didn’t have to say that, he just liked saying Declan’s name. Sheesh, now he was getting sentimental when he least expected it.

He sat back stunned. He must have heard him wrong. It sounded just like Declan said: "In case something happens to me...well, you know what I mean."

He wanted to scream, No, no, I don’t know what you mean! There could be a hundred different interpretations of what you just said! Birkoff thought that Declan was trying to reassure him, but he wasn’t able to speak plainly over an open comm link. Even B channel was monitored occasionally by TPTB, and anything said over comm was vulnerable to them during the debriefs. Unless Birkoff stripped the frames of any personal conversation between him and Declan. It would be risky. If he was discovered...it might mean cancellation for either or both of them. But then again, who else was capable of doing his job? Hillinger?

"Declan?" Birkoff activated B channel.

Declan’s voice came back in his ears. "Yeah, boyo?"

Birkoff quickly glanced over who was working in Comm. Hillinger was preoccupied with trying not to fall asleep on his keyboard after spending three full tours in Comm. He was useless. Birkoff hoped.

"Declan, I think you need to know that--"

Declan’s voice crackled with static suddenly. The signal was breaking up. By the time Birkoff rerouted the frequency through their satellite links, Declan was inside. Where the target waited. The moment was lost.

***

Declan was confused. He shook his head to clear it. He couldn’t remember anything after Birkoff’s strange-sounding message over B channel. All he knew was, this was not the place he was supposed to be. And that elegant woman in the dark plum suit and extraordinary high heels was definitely not the target.

***

"Hillinger! Wake up, you freaking moron! The mission just went south! There’s been no answer on any comm link for over five minutes! We’ve been compromised somehow! I can’t raise Declan!" If Birkoff sounded mildly hyperactive, it was only because it was true.

Hillinger sat up so quickly, he nearly unseated himself. Shit, he hated to think of losing Declan, but hey...there would be someone bigger and better along any moment to replace him. That was the way Section worked.

Unfortunately, he made the mistake of mentioning his theory to Birkoff. Birkoff’s nerves were already strung out to the breaking point.

"Jesus! You’re such a dumb fuck, Hillinger!"

"Awww, whatsamatta, Sey-mour, did your big, bad man in black up and leave you flat? Is he the one that gave you that hickey?" Hillinger might be a computer wizard of sorts, but he certainly had no common sense. Any fool who was legally blind could see that Birkoff was hurting, and it gave him both the will and the power to do something he should have done long ago.

Birkoff leaped on Hillinger, much as he had one time before, but this time, there was no one around to stop him. His hands clenched tightly around Hillinger's throat, Birkoff pressed harder and harder, needing to hurt Hillinger as much as he needed to breathe.

Suddenly a voice rang out, a cold, hard voice. Operations. "Mr. Birkoff! Correct me if I’m wrong, but we have a live mission running, do we not?"

"Yes, sir!" Birkoff shouted, his dark eyes flashing. "I was just telling Mr. Hillinger that he should take off the rest of the shift."

Operations smiled, that sardonic curve of the lips that passed for amusement. "And I suggest that you take him up on that offer, Mr. Hillinger. I don’t think you’ll get a better one."

After Hillinger left, Birkoff sank into his chair, burying his face in his hands. What was he going to do? Declan didn’t answer. No one could find the team that went out. It was a routine valentine mission. Nothing exotic. Nothing difficult. Where did everyone go? And where was Declan?

***

"Madeline." Declan spoke her name, and she smiled in response.

"Declan," she said warmly, embracing him.

Declan gave Madeline a puzzled look. What was going on? "I don’t understand, Maddy. What happened?"

Madeline carefully brought Declan up to date on what had occurred while he was unconscious. "I gave you something to knock you out briefly. Your head might be a bit fuzzy for a while. But it was necessary."

"For what?"

"For the plan to work. Declan, I know how desperately you want to prove yourself, but forcing you to complete a valentine mission was cruel, even for Operations."

She paced a few steps away and turned, a delicate smile transforming her subdued look. "Everyone will think you were taken by terrorists. I couldn’t tell you ahead of time. You need to sound credible when Operations debriefs you."

"But why, Maddy? You’ve protected me before, but this..."

Madeline’s smile dimmed slightly as she contemplated how best to answer Declan. "There’s something in you, Declan, something worth protecting. Maybe I’m just getting sentimental in my old age, but..." Her voice drifted off slowly, as if she couldn’t quite find the words to articulate her feelings. But they were there, nevertheless.

An odd look crossed Declan’s face as he thought about what this meant. To him. And to Birkoff.

"So Section thinks I’m missing? Am I supposed to be on mandatory refusal then?"

"No, Declan, that won’t be necessary. Right now, you’re presumed dead."

Part 14/End

Meanwhile, back at Section...

Birkoff stared at Operations in disbelief. "What do you mean?"

"I’m sorry, Birkoff. The whole team is missing. Presumed dead."

"Including Declan?"

"Including Declan." If Operations thought there was anything odd about Birkoff singling out the team leader, he didn’t say so. Birkoff himself was known for his erratic behavior and even more erratic thinking. It came with the territory when someone was as brilliant as he was.

Operations came to a stop, his hand even with Birkoff’s shoulder. "The mission is aborted. Why don’t you go get some sleep?"

Sleep! How could he sleep? Knowing that Declan was missing? Presumed...dead?

Birkoff shrugged Operations’ hand off his shoulder and strode away, his hands deep in his oversized pants pockets. He needed to think. There had to be someplace he could go.

***

As soon as Birkoff made it to the hallway outside his quarters, he knew that he couldn’t go there. He stopped in front of his door, pressing his face against the frame. "No, no, no, no...." he chanted, struggling to control the urge to beat his forehead against the metal.

Spinning around, tears blinding him, he made his way through the maze of Section corridors, somehow ending up in the one place that actually made sense to him. Declan’s quarters.

His hands moving at what seemed like the speed of light, Birkoff keyed in a rapid sequence of numbers, overriding the access code that normally guarded the door to Declan’s quarters. There were some definite perks to being head of Comm. Breaking allegedly secure codes was one of them.

Birkoff let himself into Declan’s quarters, locking the door behind him. His vision blurred by tears, he made his way incautiously towards the bed. Collapsing on the bed, he lay on his stomach, sobbing for several minutes. Why did this have to happen? He was perfectly content until he met Declan. Now his life was turned upside down. First, by meeting him. Second, by being seduced by him. Third, by loving him. And now, by grieving for him.

Birkoff groped for the pillow they shared when they slept together the first time. He inhaled a deep breath and exhaled on a grief-stricken sob. It smelled just like Declan. Oh, God....

Clasping his arms tightly around Declan’s pillow, Birkoff staggered to his feet, unsteadily making his way to the closet. Finding Declan’s black leather jacket, Birkoff nearly dropped the pillow. Managing to hold onto both, he stumbled all the way back to the bed.

Burying his wet, tear-stained face in the pillow, Birkoff wrapped Declan’s black leather jacket around himself and proceeded to cry himself to sleep.

***

Hours passed. Birkoff had succumbed to much-needed sleep long ago.

A noise at the door woke him.

Declan let himself in and closed the door, automatically locking it. When he saw the huddled figure in his bed, he flinched, almost drawing his gun. Christ, it was Birkoff.

Birkoff turned and the dim light briefly illuminated Birkoff’s tear-ravaged face. "Declan!" he cried out brokenly, his despair written across his face for anyone to see.

Declan immediately surmised what had happened, but before he could explain, Birkoff was on him, like a starving dog on a bone. Pounding Declan’s already-exhausted body with his fists, Birkoff sobbed, "You’re alive! But you let me think you were dead! How could you do that to me?"

Declan grabbed Birkoff’s wrists, more in an effort to prevent him from hurting himself than Declan. "Stop it!"

"I thought you were dead!" Birkoff cried, sinking to his knees. "I never even got to tell you I love you!" His head fell forward onto his chest, and Birkoff wept, not even aware that Declan was still holding onto his wrists.

Gradually, Declan was able to shift his grieving lover into his embrace. Slowly but surely, Birkoff relaxed, his body softening enough to allow Declan to hold him.

Eventually, Birkoff’s sobbing tapered off to an occasional hiccup, and he lay his head on Declan’s shoulder.

There was utter silence for several seconds. When Declan finally spoke, his own voice sounded curiously husky. "Sey?"

Birkoff blinked and raised inquiring dark eyes to Declan’s face. "Sey?"

"Sorry," Declan colored. "It’s how I think of you. In my head. Short for Seymour."

"You think of me?" Birkoff sniffled.

"All the time, Sey." Declan stroked the side of Birkoff’s face with his fingers. "Your skin is so soft, like satin. Your hair is like velvet."

Birkoff’s melting brown eyes slid shut under Declan’s caresses. His thumbs resting upon Birkoff’s cheekbones, Declan kissed him. Softly, tenderly, Declan began to make love to him. Birkoff opened his mouth, and Declan slid his tongue inside.

Breathless, Declan plundered his lover’s sweet treasure until he moaned under his ministrations. "W-wait, Declan..." Birkoff whispered.

"What is it?" Declan pressed the most gossamer-fine kiss on Birkoff’s cheek, and Birkoff sighed.

"I love you. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?"

"Yes, acushla, it does," Declan whispered in Birkoff’s ear.

Birkoff groaned softly, so softly even Declan’s ear might not have caught it. "What does that mean? Acushla?"

"Ahhh...." Declan kissed his other cheek, as gently as he did the first. "maybe I’ll tell you someday."

"Do we have a someday?" Birkoff asked hopefully.

"Aye, we do now," Declan said wistfully.

Declan kissed him on the mouth, feeling the sweet shiver of anticipation run through him at the thought of claiming Birkoff’s love once more. "Sey, come to bed with me and stay the night," he whispered.

"The night is almost over," Birkoff replied. "And I have to be up early."

"You were going to go to work as usual, even though I was supposedly dead?" Declan said incredulously.

"I-I, ohhh, I can’t think straight when I’m with you."

"Sounds like a bad case of hero worship," Declan commented light-heartedly.

"Nooo, I see all your bad points, but I love you anyway," Birkoff declared. He swiped at his face with the back of his hand. "Do you know I’ve told you how I feel at least three times, but you haven’t said one word?"

Declan pulled Birkoff to his feet again, slowly starting to undress him. "When I’ve finished taking the last piece of clothing from your body, then you’ll know exactly how I feel...acushla."

"That had better mean something good," Birkoff said with fierce intensity.

Moments later, when they were both undressed, and Declan succeeded in maneuvering them both into bed and under the covers... Declan caressed Birkoff’s neck with his tongue, making the first of what would be several forays into an incredibly sensual style of lovemaking.

Birkoff groaned, but he was not so overcome that he did not still hope for a reply to his declaration of love.

As if reading his mind, Declan smiled against his lover’s mouth, brushing his lips against his several times in succession. "Guess what?"

"What?"

"Someday just got here."

"What does that mean? Could you just stop being cryptic for one damn minute, Declan? I--"

Declan stopped Birkoff’s hyperverbal monologue from progressing any further by kissing him, his tongue swirling into and around his mouth. "I just wanted your full attention when I told you what ‘acushla’ means."

"What does it mean?" Birkoff asked weakly.

"My treasure. Darling. Pick one." Declan said bemusedly, enjoying Birkoff’s ecstatic response. Declan traced a long, slender finger over Birkoff’s mouth, causing him to squirm excitedly beneath him.

His eyes glowing brightly like molten silver, Declan bit possessively at Birkoff’s mouth. "You going to try to grow your hair for me then?"

"Ummm...what will people say?"

Declan stroked Birkoff’s cheek, enjoying the way he was still innocent enough to blush. Teasing Birkoff’s lower lip into his mouth, Declan tugged on his mouth repeatedly. "Maybe they’ll say we’re in love."

"Ummm...are we?"

"Oh, yeah..." Declan said with a smile that claimed any and all kisses Birkoff might ever possess. Trailing kisses along the side of his neck, Declan finally joined their bodies.

"You’re mine, acushla." Declan rocked gently against him.

"I am? Really?" Birkoff sighed.

"I’m going to give you another gift, Sey. Something no one else has ever had from me."

"What’s that?" Birkoff closed his eyes as wave after wave of ecstasy overwhelmed his poor, love-starved body.

"I love you." Declan arched magnificently above Birkoff, falling to earth like some dark angel with a loud and very satisfied groan. He rubbed his groin against Birkoff’s, savoring the tiny aftershocks that continued to throb through him.

Wrapping his arms around Birkoff, as if he dared anyone to try to take his lover away from him, Declan said, "You belong to me now."

End