| Subject: Part 2 |
Author:
KGilbert
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Date Posted: 09:18:38 12/13/01 Thu
In reply to:
KGilbert
's message, "Twin Souls (NC-17)" on 09:13:25 12/13/01 Thu
Nikita's dream continued. Considering where it had gone so far, however, she really didn't have any complaints.
In it, she thought she woke up to find Michael still wrapped around her from behind. He was still buried inside of her.
She sighed contentedly. His soft breath hit her shoulder; his hands still held her close. . . . She didn't want it to end.
She stroked one of his hands under her and felt his lashes flutter open against her back; his smile formed against her skin. "`Kita." His voice seemed surprised but very happy. He kissed her shoulder with soft lips.
Suddenly, though, the spell was broken. He sat up quickly and pulled slightly away. "I'm sorry." His voice seemed pained. He slid himself out of her to their mutual groan.
A sudden terror took hold of her heart, as her mind spun in horror: "Not again. Please, not again." She turned over, frightened that he was leaving.
To her slight relief, however, Michael seemed confused by the fear in her eyes. "`Kita, what's wrong?" He stroked her face with his hands.
"You're not leaving?" she asked in a childlike tone.
His eyes were surprised . . . confused. He held her face closer. "Why would I ever leave you?"
"But you pulled away. . . . You apologized."
He gave her a sweet, innocent smile. "I was afraid I was crushing you--that you were uncomfortable."
She touched the beautiful smile, looked up into the innocence and love of his eyes. Reality dawned. This wasn't the Michael she had just been with--the ruthless Section animal. This was the man she had only had three, far-too-short, days with. "Michael?"
His sweet smile deepened; he stroked her cheek. "Of course, my love."
"Ohhh," she moaned, a second before she threw herself into his arms, holding him painfully close to her. She was crying both from joy at his presence and from the sorrow of having spent weeks without him. "Michael, I've missed you."
"Ssh, my love . . . ssh." He held her in strong arms, his hands soft and tender on her back. "I'm always with you." He kissed her cheek lovingly.
She took in a breath. His soft touch aroused her perilously.
She panted slightly, holding him close; she couldn't quite take in her good fortune. "No . . . no, you're gone." There was a slight catch in her voice, her tears having mostly subsided. "When I look in his eyes, I can't see you."
He smiled, as he kissed her cheek again. "But I've seen you," he assured her. His hands smoothed a comforting warmth into her back; his light kisses trailed down the side of her face, spreading reassurance. He placed a wet kiss just under her jaw. She moaned. "I'm always there."
She pulled back at these words and looked at him. She was suddenly ashamed of her earlier tryst with his Section twin--with the cruel, ruthless side of this gentle man; her eyes filled with tears once more. "I'm sorry, Michael. You must be disgusted with me."
He was completely confused, not following the line of her thoughts, and reached out to stroke her face. "No. Why would I be?" He seemed concerned for her emotional state.
She rubbed her cheek tremulously in his hand but then pulled away. Her hands held onto her legs, as she stared at the bed. "Because I still want him."
He tilted his head toward her to catch her eyes. "And not me?" His worry was lessening; he already knew her answer.
She tried to look up at him but couldn't do it. He turned her head gently toward him, his eyes soft. His thumb stroked over her cheek. "Do you want me, Nikita?" he asked again.
She looked over his features, and her breathing quickened; he was so achingly beautiful. She reached her hand toward him but pulled back at the last second. . . . She didn't deserve him.
He caught her hand and held it up to his cheek. Her fingertips stroked it lightly. She refocused from them to his eyes. "Yes . . . I want you."
"But you want him, too," he stated. Her eyes filled with tears, and she began to pull her hand back from him, defeated. He caught it, though, and kissed the palm, returning it to his cheek once more, never breaking eye contact. "Why do you think that's wrong?" he wondered.
This time she did remove her hand, but he refused to let her withdraw completely. He held onto it--stroking it gently.
She allowed this but was still saddened; she tried to explain. "How many times has he hurt me? How many more is he planning to?" She shook her head. "What kind of freak am I that I still need him?" She looked away, tormented. "Do I just have some sick, masochistic need to be hurt?"
His eyes were still gentle. "Is it pain you really want from him? You want him to hurt you--to control you?"
"No!" she answered instinctively, looking up at him.
"Precisely," he smiled. He tried to show her her own reasons. "What do you want from him?"
"God, I don't know," she answered truthfully, before her irony rose. "A good, hard f--- on those days I *don't* feel like punching him in the face?"
He laughed softly and started to draw her toward him. "Come here, my beautiful one." He held her close to him, his chin on her head, letting her draw comfort from him. She sighed. "It's more than just physical for either of you," he assured her.
She smiled slightly. "Then, could you tell me what it is?"
He kissed her head. "You and I are connected; we always have been. The monster," he couldn't help but think of his Section twin in these terms, "can't help but feel that, . . . but he isn't capable of sharing himself with you gently. There's too much pain, . . . too much grief for both of you; it has to come out when you're intimate with him."
He pulled back to look at her. "I and the monster are parts of a whole. We both love you, but we can't do it in the same way. His love is greedy--possessive. Mine is giving." He kissed her tenderly, to her slight sigh. "And you love each of us the same way in return."
She shook her head, her eyes still teary; she understood his words, knew he was right, but she still wasn't really comforted. "I don't want to need him."
"I know," he smiled gently, "but you don't need or want his brutal side; you don't want pain." He kissed her delicately again, trying to comfort the fears her brutalized childhood had instilled. "Part of you is feral, though--it needs its mate."
He stroked her temple, his smile continuing. "That's not wrong; it's . . . human. You're just conflicted, because of all the pain, . . . all the memories."
He stroked her hair, continuing to explain. "You'll never be like your mother, Nikita. You don't think pain is your birthright." He leaned in and kissed her more deeply--to her moan--before pulling back. His soft, serious eyes pressed his point. "Neither does he." He looked saddened. "There's not much he isn't capable of--it's true. Your relationship with him will never be . . . sane as long as you're both in Section." He sighed. "The only thing I will confidently tell you about him is that he will *never* hurt you sexually," his voice dropped to a whisper, "even if he finds every other method available."
She leaned forward and wrapped her arms around him, rubbing her face next to his. "I hate that side of myself," she whispered. "I hate that I need him that way."
"I know," he assured her, "but it's not what led your mother into the life . . . the abuse she lived in." He kissed her cheek. "You don't have to fear your needs." He laughed slightly into her hair. "You've never enjoyed being a submissive. It's unlikely you'll start now."
She held him very close and kissed his face. "Thank you."
He smiled. "Anytime."
She laughed and held him closer, running her hands over the beautifully-defined lines of his back. He sighed and returned the gesture.
After a few minutes, she leaned back to look at him. "I do love you," she whispered.
He stroked her cheek, and she turned to kiss his palm. "I never doubted it." Both his hands cupped her face; he searched her eyes for a second and then gently brushed his lips to hers, bestowing feather-like kisses on them, until they opened on her sigh.
Their mouths merged together, tongues softly exploring the wonders of the other. They stroked the soft insides of the cheeks, the hard roofs—curved around the lines of teeth. Their tongues happily puzzled out new configurations between them, new ways to stroke tenderly against the other, to taste all of their beauty.
Their hands, meanwhile, traced curves and lines, stroked fingertips lightly down sides, tested just how light their touch could be and still have the muscles react--blissfully wanting more.
Michael's hands stroked delicately under her breasts and felt her nipples awaken to beg for more. He smoothed his hands down her stomach and abdomen, stroking fingertips over her thighs. They then moved up to glide past her hips and around to her back.
Nikita's hands took the opposite route, running up strong thighs to feel his abdomen and stomach. They stroked up to his shoulders and then back down, brushing past his taut nipples, coming up next to cradle his neck and head, holding him to her, increasing the intensity of the kiss.
His arousal throbbed against her, his need for this strong, beautiful soul overwhelming. He pulled his lips along her tongue, releasing the kiss. "Please, my beautiful one, let me touch you." He kissed softly at her lips, watching her eyes.
"Yes, Michael," she agreed. She needed his hands on her, or she would die.
He held onto her back and kissed her, as he lay her down on the bed, knees astraddle. He moaned slightly, as he came to rest on top of her.
He pulled back from the kiss to look in her eyes, his hands running over her. "You're so perfect, Ni-ki-ta--so soft." He kissed her again before temporarily forcing himself away from her lips.
He kissed over her cheek to her earlobe, gently teasing it--kissing it--tasting it with his tongue. She held his head to her.
After a few minutes, his tongue ran lightly down her neck, sending shivers in its wake. "Yes," she moaned.
He sought out the tender spots on her skin, running the tip of his tongue softly over them. All of her earlier marks from his Section side had disappeared.
He suckled at each tender area on her neck, as she moaned and held him to her for more. Occasionally, his teeth nipped gently at her before he resumed suckling. She let out little sighs and moans.
As his mouth continued this pattern around her neck and throat, his hands stroked up to her breasts. His thumbs ran lightly over her nipples, as she pressed them into his hands to receive his touch.
"Michael," she moaned.
He moved down to one perfect breast finally, his mouth trailing a warm glow all the way. His tongue circled her nipple and lapped it into his mouth.
She held him to her, moaning. "Yes."
He suckled her there--covering her, loving her in his warm, wet mouth. The warmth he created there was radiating through her, was running down to demand an answering tug within her depths. Her hips were beginning to arch toward him.
He released her to stroke the tip of his tongue over her several times before suckling again. His hand, too, was very lightly teasing its twin, reminding it that it wouldn't be neglected.
Her hands ran through his soft hair, as he worshipped her. Everything he did felt so good. She was emitting a sort of constant whimpering groan.
Finally realizing that he needed to move on, he closed his teeth over her lightly, running up to release her. He gave a final, wet kiss to the bud and then moved to its double.
"Yes," she whimpered.
His hand gently soothed the nipple he had abandoned. His tongue greeted his newest plaything by flicking at it strongly for several seconds. He suckled at it then, before running his teeth lightly over it, and soothing it again in circles with his tongue.
Nikita's hands on his head were almost painful. "Mi-chael." He was creating an escalating hum in her body, a rhythm which called for him.
He increased the hum by suckling her firmly. She gasped. "Oh, yes."
After a few more minutes of this wonderful arousal, he pulled away with a final lick and moved back up to kiss her for a second before looking at her again. He smiled. "Roll over."
She looked a bit confused. He kissed her gently and then smiled at her again. He put his hand on her shoulder and lifted her, encouraging her movement, until she obliged.
He smiled down at her, as she settled her head on her arms. He moved her hair to rest over her right shoulder, since her head was turned left.
He straddled her legs, holding most of his weight on his knees, and leaned over her to kiss her cheek, his arousal pressing into her back. "I love you," he smiled down at her.
She smiled lovingly back at him, and he leaned over to begin his soft enticement by running his tongue lightly over the back of her neck, along the hairline. His hands caressed her back--massaging . . . arousing. She let out a soft moan.
His mouth continued down slightly, giving wet kisses along the back of her neck. She drew in a breath and sighed in pleasure.
His mouth diverged from the path he was creating to close gently over the point between her shoulder and neck, suckling and nibbling at her there. He leaned further over her and reached around her to caress her breasts, stroking and massaging their fullness, while his thumb and fingertips closed over her nipples, stroking them between them.
She moaned, as her hands came down to cover his, encouraging his touch. She arched her neck into his mouth, as well.
He ran his teeth over her skin, as he released her. He pinched her nipples lightly, to her pleased groan. He kissed her cheek, as he released her breasts, taking hold of her hands to lead them away, depositing them once more beneath her head. "Let me please you," he whispered close to her ear, suckling the lobe briefly.
She groaned. "Yes."
He placed a kiss on her lips and returned his attention to her back. His tongue ran a line from her shoulder to her spine; she shuddered slightly in pleasure. He then continued, in this fashion, to lightly trace each rib. His hands stroked along her sides.
The butterfly touch of his tongue intrigued and aroused her. Each time he came to her spine he would suckle briefly at the vertebra, before running his tongue around it and continuing on to the other side.
He was exploring her in intimate, soft strokes. She had never been touched quite like this. Even her attentive lovers, including Michael's Section twin, had never spent quite so much time learning her. . . . It was a wonderful feeling to be worshipped so.
His mouth continued to trace the vertebra down the small of her back, until he reached her soft curves. Moving his body further down her, his arousal now even larger and throbbing near her calf, he kissed each curve before moving off of her slightly. He took hold of her hip and helped her to roll back over.
He looked up at her to give her a quiet smile and saw the look of devotion and love in her eyes. "Michael," she sighed. Then his hands worked up her legs to her thighs, parting them.
He lowered his face to her core and gave her bud a soft, wet kiss--to her sigh of desire. "Yes," she begged.
He smiled again and began softly lapping at the tender bud. Each lap sent a shock of arousal into her.
"More," she begged.
He subsumed the tender flesh with his lips and began suckling her, his tongue stroking her. She was breathing in little labored gasps. His hands kneaded her gently from behind, holding her up to him, increasing the pressure of his touch.
"Oh, yes . . . please," she gasped. The warmth and pleasure from her core was spreading through her, making her ache with tension.
He answered her growing need. He began suckling her hard, pressing her hips up to his hungry mouth.
She was groaning constantly now. One of his hands moved up her stomach to tease an achingly-aroused breast. She caught it and put his fingers in her mouth, suckling him in turn.
He groaned against her and suckled harder. She gasped, groaning, and released his hand.
His warm, wet mouth continued its wonderful, increasing pressure on this most intimate spot on her body. Her need was becoming unbearable.
While all of her attention focused on this tender spot, however, she was driven unexpectedly over the brink by the feeling of his wet, strong fingers entering her deeply, running down one of her walls and straight to one of her most pleasurable weak spots.
"Oh God! Michael!" she cried, her hips bucking against him. The vibrations from his mouth and fingers quivered through her, warming her--comforting her. She gave a little whimpering cry, as she shook slightly beneath him.
He licked her bud tenderly, as she came down. Finally, once her tremors had ceased, he kissed it gently and removed his hand from her. He put his fingers in his mouth and closed his eyes, loving the taste of her; he moaned slightly and then kissed his way slowly up her body, stopping briefly to suckle at her breasts.
Her hands ran down his sides to his hips, as he returned to her. They proceeded to feel his chest and back, as he kissed her. . . . God, she wanted to touch him--to taste him.
His eyes blazed with love and desire, as he broke the kiss to look at her. His arousal throbbed almost painfully, taunting her depths. "I need you, my beautiful one." His hand stroked her face. "I need you now."
She shook her head, eyes pleading. Her hands roamed over him. "Michael . . . let me touch you. . . . Please."
He took one of her hands and led her to his thickened arousal. Her hand closed over the throbbing shaft, and his already shaky breathing went completely erratic. He took back her hand and held it in his, his other stroking her face.
He kissed her before looking at her again. His eyes were wet and seemed to shine so brightly with love and need that it bordered on madness. "Please, Ni-ki-ta." His voice was almost broken with passion. "I need you," he whispered.
God, she wanted to touch him, to taste his beautiful shaft--to hold it in her mouth. She needed even more, though, to feel him deep inside her. Besides, she couldn't deny his plea.
She loosed her hand from his and held his face in both of hers, pulling him to her for a deep, slow kiss. She pulled back from it for half a second to look at him, while her hands roamed down to his hips. "Yes," she whispered before kissing him again.
Michael moaned through the kiss in desire. His hands ran down to her smooth thighs, parting them further. He danced his arousal teasingly against her before running his hands back behind her.
He moaned, as his tip was taken in by her. He pulled her up to him and slowly began to sink each throbbing inch into her tight, warm depths.
Nikita moaned and broke the kiss. She knew this was the pace he needed for now, but she was half-insane with the need to feel him completely in her--his beautiful, throbbing shaft being caressed deep inside her depths.
"Please," she begged. Her hands were on his hips, as she tried to restrain herself from pulling him into her in one hard, deep thrust.
He gave her a tender look but one which begged for indulgence. He captured her mouth again, softly ravaging the depths there to try to give her some temporary relief.
Her hands grabbed at his shoulders, and she moaned, as he continued his slow, sensuous entry.
When he was almost completely inside her, he pulled back for a second. Nikita broke the kiss to cry out. "No!" A second later, though, he had stroked deep inside her, entering her completely.
She held his cheek to hers, her breathing labored. "Yes," she whimpered in a tiny voice.
He untangled her from around him and gave her a deep, soft, lingering kiss. His hands held her hips. He pulled back finally and looked at her. "I love you."
Her heart overflowed with her love for this tender, beautiful man. "Michael." She touched his face, eyes wide.
He smiled at her and began stroking into her. She closed her eyes. Every stroke filled her completely, touched her soul more intimately than there were words for.
He watched her happily and allowed her legs to wrap tightly around him. He began kissing her temple. "If you only knew," he whispered between kisses around her face, "how beautiful you feel."
He kissed her again, and she looked up at him, eyes full of love. "Heaven will never feel this good." He smiled beautifully.
Oh God, she needed him--needed to feel his soul singing in her. "Hold me, Michael . . . please." She pulled his head down to her, kissing him desperately. "Love me."
He encircled her in his arms and leaned over her, pressing her head back into his hand with the kiss. He stroked in her deeply, more insistently.
She moaned. "More," she pleaded before continuing the kiss.
His lips pressed into hers, his tongue stroking hers insistently. His hands were on her upper back, as his strokes increased.
She could feel the head of his shaft sliding through her--back and forth, resting each time in her delicately sensitive core. She held his face in her hands, as she whimpered through the kiss.
Her tight depths massaged him in so beautifully intimate a way, as she responded to his thrusts. He couldn't help becoming more aroused, growing further inside of her.
She whimpered, trembling, as she held him to her, her hands on his back; her legs wrapped even more tightly around him. His swelling in her increased the incredible friction of their bodies against each other. Her kiss was now probably painful in its insistence.
He sped up again, as she met him, stroke for stroke. He broke the kiss. "No one else feels like you," he whispered. He moaned and kissed her cheek. "No one else holds me like you."
Nikita was groaning. "Deeper," she begged, gasping. She dropped her head to suckle on the skin between his shoulder and neck.
He groaned and swelled further within her. "Yes . . . good." He moaned and stroked her harder, thrusting even deeper into her hot depths.
Nikita groaned before continuing to suckle him harder. He stroked her so perfectly, his head hitting her in just the way she most desperately needed him. There were tears coming to her eyes.
She was biting him slightly now. He groaned, holding her head to him. "Yes . . . yes." He continued to increase his thrusts.
She let go of his neck. "Oh God, Michael." She pulled her head back to look at him. Her eyes were desperate and loving.
So were his. They continued watching each other, as he reached down to hold her hips. Neither could speak. He used her hips to pull himself into her in hard thrusts.
She was crying--connecting with his liquid stare; she couldn't break the look. Their souls were entangling through their eyes--pleading with each other to understand the depths of their love and need.
His strokes were overwhelming her--each one echoing through her in shockwaves of loving desire. His head was rampaging through her slick depths before connecting with her heavily, making her desire escalate almost unbearably.
"Yes," she mouthed.
His hands took hold of her lower back, and he presented her with several, increasingly intense, sharp strokes. Her mouth opened, her lips trembling. Her eyes were wide in desire and understanding. He gave her one more deep stroke and then held still, feeling the beginning of her contractions around him.
They were both on the edge. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to him, his cheek by hers, as she held him tightly. Every muscle in them was poised, unable to take any further tension. They were both panting.
Their eyes closed, as they felt the other's love wrap around them—through them. It threatened to shatter their control, as the bond insinuated itself into every fiber of their increasingly-shared being.
Michael took a breath, trying to speak. His hand caressed her hair. "`Kita." He panted again for a second. He kissed her cheek, while she felt his every heartbeat as her own. "Oh God, Nikita. . . . I love you."
"Michael," she whimpered, as he gave her one final stroke.
They both cried out, holding each other. The embrace would have been painful if they had still been separate beings, but they no longer were. As they arched into each other in shattering pleasure, they became whole, became what they should always have been--a single entity.
Their hearts, their souls reached out to and wrapped through each other, intermingling completely; it was a feeling of such light as to be almost blinding. Their shared body was trembling with the force of it.
They felt--they knew everything in the other at that moment. Most overwhelmingly, though they understood that they had finally joined--that nothing could ever separate them again.
They stroked each other's hair, as they became lost in one another. Their overpowering physical release blended seamlessly into this new, complete spiritual bond; it was an absolutely unified experience.
They had both forgotten the old boundaries--where their bodies began and ended. It didn't matter anymore. . . . They were one.
As they finally began to come down together, they sighed--feeling and revelling in their mingled love, before the whole of them finally fell asleep.
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