Declan pressed himself against Birkoff’s slender young body. Willing, he was so willing, his sweet puppy. Eager to play. Eager to learn. Eager to come at his command.

He wound his hands through Birkoff’s freshly washed hair. Inhaling, he noted how clean it smelled. Declan kissed his hair, thinking once again how lucky he was to have found him.

Birkoff’s soft length touched his erection. Declan groaned. "I want to hurry up and come, so we can try something else."

Rubbing himself against Birkoff’s abdomen, Declan purred contentedly. Locked in a tight embrace, they kissed. Warm, wet, open mouths yearning for each other. Tongues licking familiarly at each and every crevice. Declan reached down between their bodies and pushed his cock against Birkoff’s abdomen.

"I want to come all over you."

His lover shivered. "Please."

Holding him even more tightly, Declan rocked back and forth, sliding his hardened length into Birkoff’s groin. When their two cocks met, Declan gasped. "You’re hard again."

"You make me that way."

Declan claimed his mouth possessively, his body working towards completion. Birkoff’s body was more than up to the challenge. Together they strained to be one without actual penetration. Rubbing and sliding against each other without using their hands, they both came at the same time.

They were so close together, there was nowhere for the evidence of their lovemaking to go, but on them. "Mmm…" Declan traded a deep breath for a moment to regain control.

Birkoff giggled. "You *did* come all over me, Declan. I feel like I’m wearing you."

Declan went into the bathroom and grabbed a few towels. Throwing one at Birkoff, Declan raised an eyebrow at his lover. "You came all over me, too, puppy. I’d make you lick up every drop, but you’d prolly like it."

Birkoff smiled softly, managing to rub against Declan one more time. "Ooh, now you’re hot *and* wet."

Declan growled in Birkoff’s ear. "I’d like to bury something hot and wet up your ass, puppy."

Birkoff’s eyes grew so dark, the pupils disappeared completely against the background color of his eyes. Shuddering against Declan’s neck, Birkoff whispered, "Are you going to fuck me now? Please…"

Declan turned Birkoff around to face the observation deck windows "Take a good look, Sey. Just thinking about all those people down there, going on about their evil business, completely unaware of us, makes me hard." Declan’s hand drifted lower, to cup Birkoff’s burgeoning arousal.

"Think about them when you get ready to come," he whispered against his back.

"You mean you want me to think about Hillinger?" Birkoff laughed.

"Christ, no! You want to make me soft again?" Declan said, biting Birkoff’s shoulder.

"You sure you wouldn’t like to taste poor little Greggie just once, Dec?"

Declan stopped caressing Birkoff instantly, turning him around to face him again. "Are you serious?" he exclaimed, feeling what that thought did to him. Birkoff touched Declan’s groin, and he was relieved to see that Declan did indeed lose his erection. Good, he didn’t want to be with someone who actually lusted after the Gregster.

"Just checking," Birkoff quipped whimsically.

Just for that, Declan bit his neck, sucking on the area until it sported a bruise the size of a quarter, a lovely shade of purple. Birkoff gasped, the sensation so neatly between pleasure and pain, he couldn’t stand it. "What was that for? For being a bad puppy?" he whispered.

Declan stared at him, his grey eyes suddenly serious. "No, I’m marking you. As mine."

"But no one will ever see it. No one will know."

"We’ll know, Sey. We’ll know." And Declan claimed his mouth in a kiss so passionate yet so fraught with emotion, it quite took Birkoff’s breath away.

With a slap on Birkoff’s pale, firm buttocks, Declan pushed him forward onto his arms, again facing the windows. Preparing Birkoff much the same way as he had done earlier, Declan slid into the cleft between his buttocks, sighing as he entered his lover’s body.

Resting his head on Birkoff’s back, Declan closed his eyes, feeling his lover’s body throb around him. For a moment, he didn’t even feel compelled to move, the sensation so pleasurable, he could have stayed there forever. "God, I love you, Sey," he said, so low Birkoff could barely hear him over the beating of his own heart.

Birkoff’s dark eyes drifted shut of their own accord. He didn’t need the power trip of looking out at Section. He wanted to forget Section. His world now consisted of just him and Declan, making love every way possible.

"Take me now," he whispered to Declan.

With that, Declan began to move within him. Declan rocked against his lover’s body, wanting him with such ferocity, his movements grew increasingly frenzied. When he was ready to climax, Declan abruptly withdrew, pressing his fevered flesh into the sweet cleft between his partner’s buttocks. His love poured forth, spilling across Birkoff’s back, as he came. In fact, he came with such intensity, he did not immediately stop rocking, finally slowing almost a full minute later.

Declan collapsed on Birkoff’s back with a low groan of unutterable pleasure. He lay that way for a moment before reluctantly leaving the feel of Birkoff’s warm body behind to clean up.

Quickly they washed, laughing softly as they touched one another. A few minutes later, they were both dressed, their clothing untouched by recent events.

They were never discovered.

Birkoff re-entered Comm, feeling the eyes of everyone, but especially Hillinger, upon him.

Hillinger couldn’t resist asking. Birkoff looked beaten. Worn down. Frazzled.

"Did Declan really give it to you?"

Birkoff’s eyes lit up for a second, his expression remaining enigmatic. "Yeah, he did."

Hillinger considered that. "Did he hurt you, Seymour?" Hillinger almost, but not quite, sounded concerned.

Birkoff sighed convincingly. "He was pretty hard on me."

Hillinger nodded slowly. "Looks like it. Did he beat you or something?"

Birkoff pondered. "Well, he *did* torture me a little…he even smacked me a couple of times."

Hillinger’s own dark eyes gleamed. Birkoff frowned. Maybe Hillinger liked being spanked. Maybe they should all chip in and buy him a good dominatrix. That might help improve his disposition.

Hillinger said, "You should have smacked him back. I would have."

"You’d be fucking cancelled, too, Greggie."

Hillinger thought a moment. "Yeah, there is that aspect. But did you let him have it, even once?"

Birkoff smiled. "Oh, I’d say I gave as good as I got at some point."

Operations returned to Section One with a curious lack of fanfare. He called Declan to the observation deck at once.

"You have something of mine." Operations regarded Declan with a sardonic smile. Now he was even more sure that Declan was hiding something, but he would need help to discover exactly what it was.

Declan silently removed the chain from his neck, passing it to Operations. "You have command."

"I have command." Operations’ eyes flickered over the length of Declan’s body. Declan turned to go.

"Declan?"

Declan spun neatly on his bootheel, coming to attention. "Yes?"

"Was the experience everything you thought it would be?"

"All that and more." Declan’s mordant wit was lost on Operations. What a concrete thinker.

"Good," Operations approved.

What Declan didn’t say was that Operations need never fear that Declan would replace him one day. Declan didn’t want his job. If Declan took his job, he would be even more visible than he was now. He would have even less time to spend with Birkoff. He would be even more vulnerable to Section’s petty rules and sanctions. It wasn’t worth it.

Declan stood impatiently outside Birkoff’s door. Birkoff answered, physically pulling Declan inside his quarters before anyone could see him. "What are you doing here?"

"I thought you’d be glad to see me, Sey." For a moment, Declan looked hurt.

"I am, I just didn’t expect you to come by, that’s all."

"Sey, what’s wrong?"

Birkoff sighed, inclining his head to a spot somewhere behind him. An elegant woman, impeccably dressed, stood there.

"Ah, Declan, I wondered when you would get here. I believe you are more accustomed to meeting in *your* quarters, but I knew if I kept Mr. Birkoff here, eventually you would come here."

"Maddy!" he cried.

"I have videotape of the two of you in the observation deck. I can make things quite difficult for you both."

"Then why don’t you?" Declan asked, calling her bluff.

Madeline smiled, walking toward Declan with silken grace. "I’ve wanted you from the moment you came into Section. I’ve been hoping there was a way to make you more…interested…in me. Perhaps extortion will do very nicely."

"What the hell do you mean?"

"I protected you from being exposed to Operations. He has no idea you’re gay, and even less idea that you’ve taken Birkoff, of all people, as your lover."

"And?" Declan’s expression blackened.

"If you sleep with me, I promise to make the tape disappear."

"How do I know I can trust you?"

"You don’t."

Declan snorted. "So all I have to do is fuck you once, and that’s it?"

"Crudely put, but true," Madeline sniffed.

Declan glanced at Birkoff, who was trembling with fear of discovery, not to mention the imminent specter of cancellation.

"Okay," he agreed. Birkoff gasped.

Declan smiled. "Let’s see how good your Valentine training is, Maddy. Can you pretend to be a man?"

She looked nonplussed. "Declan, don’t even try to out-finesse a skilled manipulator like me."

"No harm in trying, though, is there?" Declan smiled crookedly. "Take off your clothes, then."

Birkoff was utterly transfixed by the sight of Madeline taking off her clothes. She folded every garment with such care and precision, Birkoff knew she had to be suffering from some form of Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder.

Madeline stared at Birkoff. "Does *he* have to be here?"

"You better hope he is, Maddy, or I won’t have enough of a hard-on to penetrate."

"Very well," she said reluctantly.

When she was naked, she walked closer to Declan, her hands unsnapping his pants.

He stopped her right there. "I’m in charge here." Looking at Birkoff, he instructed him to remove his clothing as well.

"You want *me* to get undressed? Why, Declan?" Birkoff’s chocolate brown eyes grew wide.

"You’re my inspiration." He turned to face Madeline, who looked somewhat dismayed by this turn of events.

Birkoff swallowed a nervous giggle. The thought of being cancelled was making him positively giddy.

Hillinger smiled to himself, that awful smirk that transformed him from a wholesome-looking adolescent into Weasel Boy. If he only knew how the field ops talked behind his back…he might never come out of his quarters again.

"Oh, sir?" Hillinger caroled across Comm, pitching his voice just right to reach Operations’ ear.

Operations turned and fixed Hillinger with a glare that could have literally frozen Hell over. "What?" he growled.

Uh-oh, Ops was not in a very good mood today. Hillinger sighed. He should have read his horoscope. It probably said, Avoid baiting superiors with the power of life or death over you.

Well, this would probably help. He was privy to a very important piece of intel. Ordinarily, he wouldn’t think of sharing such information, but if he must, and he just knew he must, Ops would be the man to tell.

"While you were away at Center, Madeline picked up something very interesting on routine surveillance." He didn’t mention that Birkoff had blanked out routine surveillance. Or that under Madeline’s explicit direction, he circumvented some rather nifty Section-esque technology in order to capture…well, not to put too fine a point on it, but it basically boiled down to a porno flick.

Starring Section One’s reluctant heroes. Declan and Birkoff.

Hillinger couldn’t care less what happened to Birkoff. But it occurred to him that if something *did* happen to Birkoff, he would have the inside track on bedding Declan. Providing Declan didn’t kill him first.

So he dangled this rather interesting tidbit in front of Operations. It was like taking candy from a baby. Hillinger sucked hard on his lollipop, somehow missing the look of utter disdain that Operations gave him.

"Madeline told you that she wanted to sleep with McLaren?" Operations sounded cool, but his eyes were anything but. His blue eyes were lit with a fire that gave even Weasel Boy pause.

He nodded slowly, hoping he was doing the right thing. Cause Operations had the damnedest expression on his face.

In the end, Madeline got a bit more than she bargained for. Both figuratively and literally.

Declan rubbed himself, trying to stimulate an arousal, but he couldn’t bring himself to look at Madeline’s body quite yet. Instead, he concentrated on Birkoff’s honey mouth, which even now pouted nicely a few steps away from him.

"Come here, baby." Declan was talking to Birkoff, but Madeline twitched. Oh, she was an impatient little she-devil, wasn’t she?"

Leaning over Madeline, Declan reached for his lover, wrapping his arms around him. Kissing him fervently, his tongue entwining with Birkoff’s, he was already hot and aroused.

Just for good measure, he slapped Madeline’s left butt cheek, hoping to produce a punishing effect. But instead, to his utter amazement, she groaned. She *liked* it.

Too much information, he thought. This is not an area I always wanted to explore. If only there were a way out of this…

From his mouth to God’s ear…or someone like Him…

Thanks to a bit of technological wizardry on Hillinger’s part, Operations was able to creep inside Birkoff’s quarters without alerting Madeline. Oh, face it, Paul, he said to himself, she’s so preoccupied with convincing McLaren to fuck her, she couldn’t care less if you stood there and watched.

Well, Operations thought, his brow creasing in fevered anticipation, he wasn’t about to be reduced to a non-participant in his own sexual fantasy. Though he and Madeline were once lovers, that part of their lives was over. A long time ago. For her.

Every time he attempted to rekindle their affair, Madeline haughtily put him in his place, throwing his own words back at him in a hateful distortion of the truth. The truth was, Operations had always desired Madeline. Even now, it was all he could do to hold himself in check.

He wanted her.

And he was used to getting what he wanted.

Madeline supposed that some women would be understandably upset that the man they wanted needed to kiss another *man* in order to have sex with her, but that didn’t bother her in the least. She didn’t want romance. She wanted to be fucked within an inch of her life.

Smiling coquettishly, Madeline sidled up to Declan, running her hands up and down his chest. Declan closed his eyes and tried to think of Ireland. He didn’t want to die. He sincerely wanted to live. Live…and love…and grow old. With Sey. But he had a sense of foreboding that was growing stronger and stronger with each passing minute. It said, You stupid git, she has no intention of letting either one of you live past the moment of maximum impact, so to speak. Stick to your principles. Make your death mean something. Tell her to go fuck—

Operations? Declan blinked. Operations was standing next to him. Christ. They were all fucking dead.

Over a piece of fucking videotape.

Madeline had her back to Declan and Operations. She hadn’t seen him yet. That could either be a good thing…or a very bad thing. How would she react to having her not-so-subtle agenda discovered?

And how had Operations found out? Madeline hadn’t told him. That much was clear. Then who?

As if he’d spoken out loud, Operations whispered, "Mr. Hillinger sends his regards."

Declan’s expression never changed. He trained his silver-grey eyes upon Operations, not so much as the tiniest muscle in his face betraying him.

"Does he?" Declan asked dryly.

Operations turned and faced Declan, letting him see the knowledge of who he was in his clear blue eyes. "You’re relieved."

You have no idea, Declan almost said aloud, unable to prevent a small hiss of breath from escaping his tightened lips.

"You may go now," Operations added. "Oh, and," Operations’ eyes sparkled, almost as though he were amused. Which, of course, he couldn’t possibly be. Declan put that thought right out of his head. What did he have to be amused about?

"Take your…friend…with you," Operations said, referring to Birkoff, a definite twinkle taking shape in his eyes.

He didn’t have to ask twice. This was one show he had no intention of seeing. And he’d get Birkoff out of here, if it was the last thing he did.

No guts, no glory. Operations smoothed his hands over Madeline’s porcelain-like skin, savoring the feel of her under him.

He never let her turn around. He never spoke. He took the initiative right from the get-go, unzipping his pants, sheathing himself, and plunging deeply into what could only be described as her remembered warmth.

At first, she was as silent as he was. Enjoying the feel of flesh upon flesh. Relishing the wet noise that their bodies made together. It was enough simply to be in the moment.

He pushed her head down, pulling on her long dark hair, riding her like the well-developed thoroughbred she was. If she didn’t recognize his touch, his scent, well, so be it. It was enough simply to be inside her.

As he approached his climax, he moaned low and deep in his throat, and something within her told her, warned her, this was not Declan. He slammed into her with a force that might have been frightening, if it were not what she truly craved.

How had she missed this? How had she decided that this could not go on? For now she knew who it was. Even as her breasts grew heavy, her nipples harder, sharper, her narrow channel slicker, hotter.

"Paul!" she shouted at the moment of completion.

"Fuck you, Madeline!" he shouted as he suddenly withdrew, a steady stream of come pumping and pulsating across her back. Seeping into the cleft of her creamy white buttocks.

She screamed. He had led her right up to the very brink. She was so close, she could see the edge of the precipice before her. But before she could fling herself off, he stopped. Took that welcome heat away.

She shivered, straining to climax by sheer will. But it was no use. Paul had his revenge. Thwarted her at her own game. She collapsed then, her hand instinctively cradling her femininity. She lay on her side, curling her knees up to her chest, still panting. Though no longer in sheer animal lust.

She was no stranger to vengeance. With Declan and Birkoff safely removed from her clutches, she sought bigger game.

We’ll see who fucked who then, Paul.

Declan wrapped his arms around his lover, nuzzling the base of his throat, noting the mark he put there. Licking the bruise with his tongue, he asked softly, "Does it hurt, Sey?"

Birkoff shook his head, his long dark hair waving gently with the motion. "Nothing you do to me with love could hurt, Dec."

"Do you think we’ve heard the last from Madeline and Operations on this?"

Birkoff pondered the question seriously. "Operations slaked his hunger for revenge. But Madeline…" He sighed.

"Madeline doesn’t understand the concept of giving in…or giving up. She won’t forget this. Ever."

Declan buried his face in the space between Sey’s neck and shoulder. "We’re at her mercy."

"We always have been. In some ways, she’s far more powerful than Operations."

"What can we do?" Declan whispered against Sey’s ear. Absently rubbing his cheek against his lover’s face, he tried to make each stolen moment count now.

"Wait and see…and love each other like each day’s our last."