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."

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.

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…

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.