As I said earlier, this is fluff, but it *is* hot fluff. There but for a carefully placed hand, it would probably be NC-17. LOL!!!

~Silk

"Hey, that's mine," Adam said, amused by the way the two of them instinctively reached for the same black leather jacket. Jazz blushed and relinquished his grip on the buttery-soft material.

Adam swayed closer to his lover, his knee pressed gently against the faint bulge between Jazz' legs. "You were wearing it this morning," he whispered in sudden realization.

Jazz nodded mutely.

"You like wearing it," Adam decided. Jazz' head fell forward, his long golden brown hair obscuring his expression, but Adam was nothing if not persistent. "You do," he repeated.

Jazz began to chew on his bottom lip, a nervous habit that Adam had given up trying to break him of. If he were completely honest, he found it more than a trifle endearing. "Hey, that's my job," he said affectionately, referring to the anxious way Jazz worried the tender flesh there.

Jazz chuckled. "You want to know all my secrets?"

"Uh huh. Every…single…one," Adam said, punctuating each word with a kiss.

Jazz sighed gratefully and leaned on his lover. "It smells like you. It's…like having your arms wrapped around me. It's-" From the abrupt way Jazz broke off, Adam knew that there was something else that Jazz wasn't telling him. Yet.

"What? Talk to me, Nick," Adam urged, his breath hot and sweet on Jazz' cheek.

Jazz wound his arms around Adam's neck and pressed his body flush against his lover's. Arousal flared between them, sharp and sudden, and what had been a faint bulge was now an unyielding knot of hardened muscle. "It's…like being inside you," he murmured.

"Mmm…" Adam slid his hands inside the waistband of Jazz' jeans and Jazz unconsciously shifted to allow him easier access. "We'd better go," he said reluctantly, caressing the gentle swell of Jazz' ass.

"If you say so," Jazz agreed, swallowing the burst of pleasure that spread throughout his body at his lover's slightest touch.

"We'll, um, finish this later."

"Uh huh." Jazz made a helpless sound in Adam's ear and it was all Adam could do not to fling him down on the bed and bury himself deep inside him.

Adam pulled away from his lover and grabbed his leather jacket. With a groan, he slipped the soft material over Jazz' arms and zipped it up to his chin. "You wear it. It makes me…hot…just thinking…about what you're thinking."

Jazz held his gaze with an intensity that made his toes curl inside his boots. Before he knew what was happening, they were kissing, fervently, passionately, Adam's hands finding their way inside the pockets of his jacket. When they finally managed to part, albeit more breathlessly than before, Adam said huskily, "Wear that later."

"In bed?" Jazz asked, his own voice grown disturbingly sensual.

"Yeah. Nothing else…just that."

"Jesus."

Adam nipped Jazz' earlobe and the younger man groaned again. "If you don't stop that, I'm not going to be able to walk."

Adam stepped back and searched the room for Jazz' jacket. "Looks like I'll just have to wear yours."

"It's too small."

Adam bent his head and licked a warm, wet path along Jazz' jawline, leaving both of them shuddering on the brink of coming. "You're bigger than you think, baby."

"Sasha's going to think we got lost," Jazz whispered as his eyes slid shut.

"He'll understand," Adam replied, sweeping him into a fierce embrace that threatened to finish what they'd begun.

"What about seeing Paris?"

"It'll still be there."

"Where do you think you're going?"

A hand carelessly placed on Declan's shoulder caused him to swing around sharply, his long red hair cascading down his back like a waterfall at sunset. "Home."

"Oh, no, you're not."

Declan's pale grey eyes narrowed their focus to the source of the voice that persisted in hounding him. "I'm not?" he asked tightly.

"No," the voice continued blithely, seemingly oblivious to whatever threat was imminent. "I got us a room."

"Do tell."

"It's a very nice room."

"It should be, acushla. This being a four-star hotel and all."

"It's got a bed and everything," Sey said, winding his arms around Declan's neck.

"I think maybe you're too easily pleased," Declan replied huskily, splaying both hands across Sey's hips to tug him closer.

Sey shook his head slowly. "I don't think so, Dec. I have it on very good authority that I'm pretty demanding…in bed."

"You're a bloody pushover," Declan whispered affectionately, slipping his tongue inside his mate's ear.

"Bet you say that to all the guys," Sey teased.

"Nah…just to you." Declan pressed a light kiss to his lover's ear before reluctantly releasing him. "So…where is this room?"

"You sure it's good enough for you? You can be such a pri-"

Declan raised an eyebrow imperiously, a gesture as unique as the Irishman himself. "I sincerely hope that the next word out of your mouth was going to be prince."

Totally unintimidated by the implicit warning, Sey nuzzled his lover's throat, the vibration of his laughter tickling Declan's neck. "Not hardly. I was shooting for princess."

"I'd let you know how much this is turning me on, but I'm afraid our son has finally caught on to us, acushla."

"Oh? What'd Sasha say?"

"That we argue…on purpose…so we can get all hot…and bothered." Declan stroked a long, elegantly shaped finger along the side of Sey's face, and Sey responded by closing his eyes, looking for all the world like he was going to purr.

A moment later, Sey opened his eyes to find Declan gazing at him with an intensity that still managed to engender a powerful and seductive heat that unfurled throughout his body. "Well…Sasha seems to have inherited my keen insight," Sey whispered.

"But he hasn't acquired your incredible taste in men," Declan murmured, his voice in and of itself a caress to Sey's senses.

Sey threw back his head to laugh, exposing his throat, and Declan couldn't help but take advantage of his vulnerability. He latched onto his lover's neck and suckled hard, immediately raising a small welt that he then licked.

The utter abandon with which Declan applied himself to the task made Sey's toes curl inside his boots. Even in a public place, Declan was so completely un-self-conscious and yet he rarely violated the boundaries of propriety. As much as Sey admired him for that, he blamed Section for developing that ironclad control, and he sometimes wished…that he could make Declan slip his leash more often.

Just the thought of Declan out of control was enough to make Sey ache. "Can we go now?"

"Where?"

Sey groaned in frustration. "The room. Where else?"

"I dunno, baby," Declan drawled, as if he was considering thwarting Sey's almost urgent desire to make love.

"Please?"

"You do beg nicely. I'll give you that," Declan answered, sliding his hands inside the waistband  of his lover's jeans.

"I can do even better," Sey promised fervently, his knee pressing insistently in between Declan's legs.

"Well…"

Suddenly Sey fisted two great handfuls of Declan's hair and pulled his head down. No more than a breath apart, they stared into each other's eyes. Then Sey kissed him, ardently, possessively, as though they both had mere moments to live. "If you love me…"

"Oh, I do…" Declan declared hoarsely.

"Make love to me."

"What floor is the room on?"

"The ninth. Why?"

"Where's a bloody elevator when you need one?"

"I think we're going to have to let go of each other eventually," Sey murmured against Declan's neck, his lips warm and pliant and seeking the bare skin revealed by the opening of his shirt.

"Not if I can help it," Declan muttered under his breath, dipping his head to press a kiss along the line of Sey's jaw.

The elevator stopped at the ninth floor, abruptly jarring them out of the sensual fog that surrounded them. The doors opened and Declan sighed heavily, his slow exhalation ruffling his lover's long dark hair. "We're here," he said unnecessarily.

Sey pulled on Declan's wrists until the two of them stood outside the elevator, facing an ornate mirror. "You are so beautiful," Sey whispered, watching Declan's normally pale face suffuse with unaccustomed color. He contemplated their reflection, but it was readily apparent that he only had eyes for Declan's image, not his own.

"Not like you," Declan whispered back, hypnotized by the sight of Sey's fingers restlessly moving through his long red curls. Sey turned his head slowly and met his lover's ardent gaze, and Declan had to consciously resist the temptation to close his eyes as their lips met.

"Come on," Sey urged his mate, and Declan trailed dutifully after the shorter man, content to be tugged along in his wake.

Sey opened the door with the first swipe of his keycard, and Declan, suddenly galvanized by their proximity to an actual bedroom, pushed him through the posh, well-furnished living room without pausing to admire the luxurious surroundings.

"Nice room," Declan breathed against his lover's mouth, his pale gray eyes soft yet somehow enigmatic.

"You *are* a desperate man," Sey commented with a chuckle, relinquishing his hold on him to fall back onto the bed.

In answer, Declan shrugged out of his clothing as quickly as possible. The satiny gleam of all that bare skin rendered Sey temporarily speechless. When he finally spoke, all that would come out of his mouth was a muted "Wow."

"You've seen it all before," Declan said, sounding improbably amused by Sey's reaction.

"Trust me, that does nothing to diminish the impact," Sey replied almost reverently.

Declan fell on his lover, his arms and legs probing and seeking and twisting until their bodies were completely aligned. Sey relaxed under him and wrapped his legs around Declan's lower back in an obvious attempt to join them.

Declan blinked in surprise and said dryly, "You're in a bloody rush, aren't you?"

"I want you…inside me…now."

"Just like that, you want to throw bloody foreplay straight out the window?"

"Screw foreplay," Sey said urgently, his state of arousal growing more and more evident.

"I'd rather screw *you*," Declan whispered, brushing his mouth against Sey's shoulder.

"Then do it," Sey hissed.

Declan said nothing, but slick fingers suddenly slid inside his lover, opening him, penetrating him almost tenderly. No matter how out of control he might seem, Declan always took the time to treat Sey gently. Normally Sey would be grateful for such consideration, but right now, he wanted Declan to lose that vaunted control that he clung to. It was a shield, it was armor of a sort, and sometimes…it was a barrier that didn't need to be there.

They trusted each other implicitly. They didn't need to be protected from one another.

"Fuck me," Sey pleaded hoarsely.

When Declan's fingers abruptly stilled within him, Sey opened his eyes to find his lover's startled gaze upon him. "I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't. Just…please…let go…this once."

Sey knew that Declan feared losing control in a very real sense. He could count on the fingers of one hand the number of times that Declan had gotten truly angry, and he sometimes wondered if Section had irrevocably damaged something deep inside him.

Declan rolled onto his back, panting, one arm flung across his face. Sey knew that pose well. Declan was hiding in plain sight, his all-too-expressive eyes squeezed shut beneath his forearm. "Don't," Sey whispered.

When Declan spoke again, his voice sounded like he was being tortured, its husky tones constricted by the emotion that was clearly choking him. "You want me…to hurt you. I can't…do that. Not even for you."

"No," Sey protested, pulling Declan's arm away from his face. "I just want you to…stop treating me like…I'll break."

Declan opened his eyes very slowly and made eye contact with his lover. "I can't help…wanting to protect you."

"I know," Sey agreed, smiling slightly as he leaned on Declan's chest. "You love me."

"I love you," Declan echoed.

"So fuck me," Sey whispered.

Declan pulled Sey on top of him, allowing his mate to take the initiative this time, and Sey lost no time in impaling himself on Declan's rampant erection. Declan spread his hands over Sey's nipples as he moved, harder, deeper, his body's natural rhythm stuttering as something broke inside Declan.

When Sey groaned, his climax drawn from him in helpless shudders, Declan toppled the younger man to his back, driving himself into his lover with furious strokes. Burying his face in Sey's neck, Declan came with a fierce sound that threatened Sey's equilibrium.

Declan collapsed on top of him, his breath in Sey's ear harsh and rasping. Sey smiled as he kissed his beloved's long, damp hair. "I love you."

Declan made a noncommittal noise and snuggled closer, the sticky wetness drying on his chest confirmation that he hadn't taken Sey against his will, that this too was loving.

It was days before any of them actually re-surfaced. Seeing the sights of Paris paled next to seeing each other. But not everyone was as singularly blessed as Adam and Jazz. Something of which Faith was all too well aware.

"It's about time," Faith snapped, cracking her gum impatiently.

Adam arched one eyebrow and gazed impassively at his half-sister. "We were busy."

"We noticed," she retorted.

Adam gave Faith a decidedly Michael-like look. "What exactly do you find so fascinating about *my* life? Isn't *your* own life interesting enough? Maybe I should talk to Connor."

"Uh huh," Faith responded, apparently undeterred by Adam's attempt at intimidation. "You go right ahead, bro. Then *I* can tell *Jazz* what area of expertise *you* need to work on."

Adam glared at Faith who managed to smile charmingly. Jazz smiled back every bit as sweetly and said, "You can play with *me* all you want, Fee, but when it comes to Adam, I *bite*."

Adam stifled a laugh as Jazz wound his arms possessively around his waist and affectionately nuzzled his neck.

Faith rolled her eyes and groaned, "You win. Now stop the mushy stuff. I can't take it anymore."

"That's not what *I* heard," Adam said dryly.

"Well, thanks to *you*, we don't have time to do anything," Faith pouted.

"We can have dinner," Emmy offered.

"Works for me," Chris agreed, giving Emmy a light kiss on the lips for her suggestion.

"You'd do anything she says," Faith snorted.

"And this is a bad thing because?" Chris retorted.

"Never mind. I know when I'm outnumbered."

"Where's our waiter?" demanded Faith.

"You want some cheese to go with that whine?" her twin brother asked rhetorically.

"Oh, get stuffed."

"Y'know, you're not as much fun to be around as you *think* you are," Chris commented flippantly.

"Yeah? Well, you're about as much fun as *Daddy*."

Sasha tried valiantly to stifle a burst of laughter, but failed when he met Chris' irritated gaze. "Hey," Sasha protested weakly as tears streamed down his face, "it's *almost* a compliment, man."

Adam leaned on his half-brother's shoulder and grinned. "I vote we leave her here and make *her* pay for dinner."

"I don't have enough money!" Faith squawked.

"You think they still make people wash dishes?" Adam asked Chris quite cheerfully as he ignored his half-sister.

"God, I hope so," Chris groaned fervently.

"You guys are mean!"

"Nah, we're just resistant to your charm."

It was the shriek heard round the world.

"What do you mean my card's dead?"

"Hey, you over your limit again, Fee? Here, we can use mine," Chris said, handing over his closely-guarded credit card.

Relief, however, was short-lived.

"That one's dead too? Weird."

By the time they'd offered an increasingly frustrated waiter yet another card, they were desperate.

And suspicious.

"You do realize one of us is going to have to call home?" Adam, as ever, was the voice of reason.

"No way," declared Faith with a toss of her head.

"Oh, you liked the washing dishes idea?" Chris asked, not actually expecting an answer.

Sasha pushed a hand through his long dark brown hair and sighed. "Well, jeez, not that I'm afraid of dishpan hands or anything, but I think I can manage calling Da."

Brave words. But it wasn't Sasha, but *Emmy* who ended up making the call. After explaining the situation, Emmy paused for breath. Then Declan's amused voice came through the cell phone with amazing clarity.

"I know."

"You already knew about this?" Emmy shouted incredulously.

Declan snorted. "Who do you think put a stop on the cards?"

"But why? Is this a test?"

"Maybe."

"Are we passing?"

"Not yet."

"What can we do?"

"*One* of the cards is still good."

"Which one?"

"You figure it out. It's not *that* hard."

"You want us to come home, don't you, Da?"

"What do you think, Princess Em?"

"You haven't called me that in a while, Da. Not since I was little."

"Maybe I should." Pause. "I love you, Em."

Emmy glanced at the others and blushed despite the fact that her father's declaration warmed her heart. "Me, too, Da."

"Let me talk to Sasha."

" 'kay." Emmy handed the cell phone to her brother without a word, and Sasha accepted it with a clear question in his dark eyes.

"Yeah?"

"Is that any way to talk to speak to your father?" Declan asked, the lilt in his voice letting Sasha know that he was teasing.

"Sometimes," Sasha replied in an equally facetious tone.

"I miss you, kiddo," Declan said, the softness of his voice belying its seriousness. "Come on home, okay?"

"Welll…since you asked so nicely…"

"Don't be a smartass, boyo," Declan gently chided his son.

"Too far, huh?"

"Aye."

"You can count on me, Da."

"Always could, Sash."

They didn't have to say the words. They were always there between them. Ultimately it came down to trust.

And love.

She had always loved flowers. Occasionally she found a certain irony in the fact that she was so good at growing things. Bringing things to life after being so much a part of death almost amused her. *Almost*.

Because she found solace in the cultivation of plants. There was great beauty in things that grew. But more than that…

…she could *control* how they grew and what they grew into.

She didn't succeed with Nikita. But Nikita was already a grown woman, fully indoctrinated by Section, by the time she had taken her and tried to reshape her destiny.

And then there was Michael. An immovable obstacle even for someone of *her* skill. She had used Nikita's love for Michael to manipulate her, but it had only gone so far.

But now…there were children. The product of both operatives, any of them would be formidable in her hands.

They would never suspect. They thought she was dead. But she would rise again. Infinitely stronger.

"Pay attention!" the trainer snapped. "All it takes is one moment…and you could be dead."

"Aren't we already dead?" the bored voice asked.

The trainer's black eyes slid down the young female recruit's slender form. "That's Section's line. Don't confuse the two again." But he seemed more excited than angry with her. Perhaps he liked the idea of punishing her. It paid to be careful here. So she dropped to her knees and forced her body into an obedient posture. "Sorry, Sir."

The black-haired assassin caressed her face briefly before gripping her chin with his fingers, hard enough to leave bruises on her pale skin. "There are so many things I could do to you that are far worse than death."

She nodded her understanding, some of the fear she normally kept under strict control darkening her light eyes.

He licked his lips slowly and noted the short erratic breaths she took. Pleased with her reaction, he resumed his almost casual stroking of her face and to her surprise, she found herself leaning against the warm, roughened hand.

There was something between them. She didn't know what to call it, but it was unlike anything else she'd experienced in her young life.

"You are mine, pobrecita," he whispered.

Against her will, she smiled.

She woke up sobbing a name that she'd never heard before. Not immediately sure where she was, she eventually registered that she was in the back of a limo, a familiar shape pressed snugly against her. When she was finally able to focus her eyes, Emmy stared directly into Chris' anguished face. She knew she'd had a nightmare, but the memory was already fading, and quickly, too.

"What? What is it?" she cried.

Chris regarded her sadly and asked, "Who's Carlos?"