"No, no, no, Michael. You're doing it wrong."

Walter reached around the young operative, placing his hands over Michael's on the gun. The intimacy of the gesture was not lost on either one of them. Walter's movement brought their bodies into such proximity, it made both of them ache. But the shooting range was hardly the place for a clandestine meeting. Of any kind.

Walter took a step closer, ostensibly to further adjust Michael's grip on the gun. But now his jean-clad body pressed even more firmly against Michael. His cock chose that moment to take notice, deciding that Michael's firm young buttocks were exactly what it wanted to explore.

Walter's hands never left Michael's, nor did he stop talking about how Michael could improve his grip. But neither one of them was really listening to what Walter was saying. Walter surreptitiously nudged his half-hardened length into the crevice between Michael's buttocks.

He knew when Michael registered the feel of him. Walter felt Michael's whole body tense at first, then relax, allowing Walter greater access. All around them, guns were shooting, exploding, their noise almost deafening. But Michael heard none of it. He was tuned into Walter's voice, purring deep and gravelly into his ear.

When Walter's breath hissed across the top of his ear, Michael closed his eyes and swayed. I could come from that alone. Control, control, he reminded himself. I've always been able to control myself. Mind and body. But this…this was something he could not control.

It was more than raging hormones racing throughout his body, seeking the only outlet they could find. Michael trembled within the quasi-embrace they shared. This filled him with a desperation that rivaled his initial desire to escape. He was afraid. But not of dying. Of being in love. With a man who could easily invoke the power of life or death over him. In a place where love was a four letter word.

"Take it easy, Sunshine," Walter whispered. "You're gonna be okay."

I don't think so, Walter. I don't think I'm ever going to be okay again.

Walter abruptly released Michael's hands. "You try it now," he said in a semblance of his normal voice.

Michael's tongue flicked out to moisten his lips, and Walter stepped away from the younger man, knowing it was wrong to pursue this. "Do it," he commanded, referring to firing the gun.

Michael's startled green eyes met Walter's. The gun discharged, seemingly of its own volition, and to Michael's amazement, he actually hit the target.

That wasn't all.

Walter's voice, gruff and authoritarian, provoked Michael into a response he might never have made otherwise. At the moment he fired his gun, he came, hard, in his pants.

Michael slowly lowered the gun, wondering how he would ever get through the next few minutes. Walter never took his eyes off his trainee as he reached out for the gun. Michael lay the weapon across Walter's palm, mesmerized by the look in Walter's eyes.

Walter's fingers involuntarily closed around the metal, not even registering the white hot burn inflicted. The pain would do him good. A muscle twitched in Walter's tanned face, the only sign that he was not as calm as he looked.

Was that for me, too, kid? Shit, Green Eyes, it can't happen here. You're a bright boy. You know why.

When Michael suddenly broke the silence, it took both of them by surprise. "I need to get cleaned up," he said, abruptly aware that he didn't need to explain.

"Yeah, sure, Sunshine." Walter dismissed Michael, automatically advising him to report back in the afternoon for further instruction.

He felt Michael's gaze on him, like it was a physical thing. The young operative passed Walter, his shoulder lightly grazing Walter's. Walter's big hand clamped down on that shoulder. "Michael…"

Michael's nostrils flared, as if he could somehow scent the older man's arousal. "Yes?"

The fact that he left off the 'sir' hit Walter immediately. Ordinarily, he would have taken a trainee to task for a lapse like that. But he found the words frozen in his mouth. He wanted it to be personal. Hell, he wanted it to be damned personal. As personal as it could get.

But an affair would only make things worse. Michael was Walter's material. Walter had no right to indulge in a little abuse of power trip. He wasn't like that.

He didn't want to command Michael to have sex with him. He wanted Michael to come to him, willingly, risking what little life he had left to be with him. Make love with him. God, that was it.

Michael continued to look expectantly in Walter's direction, and all at once, Walter realized that he had never voiced another word.

"Michael…" he repeated.

Michael regarded him impassively, his blank stare now firmly fixed in place. Christ, Walter thought, he had considerable aplomb for someone who just came in his pants.

"It can't happen here."

Michael gave Walter an enigmatic half-smile. In one of the most incautious gestures Walter had ever seen, Michael reached over and grasped Walter's erection tightly in his hand, feeling his heat even through the fabric of his jeans.

"Are you talking to me…or to yourself?"

For one unbelievable, heart-stopping moment, Walter's hand covered Michael's as it grasped the older operative's straining erection and he pressed it hard against his quivering flesh.

Michael found himself aroused and sweating in spite of the fact that he had just climaxed moments ago. He hadn't had such an uncontrolled response since his early adolescence.

His words hung between them on the suddenly silent air. "Are you talking to me…or to yourself?"

"Do you want to see us both dead, Sunshine?" Walter hissed, suddenly returning to the reality of where they were. He flung the younger man's hand away and spun on his heel, his face set in cold lines.

Asshole, asshole, asshole!

But he didn't know if he was castigating the trainee he felt such lust for, or himself.

Michael looked too much like the first man Walter had … cared about.

A disconcerting thought came to him. Did Michael really look like Walter's lost love? Or just Walter's memory of him? Suddenly, Walter could no longer trust his judgment.

The cold operative slammed into his quarters and secured his door. Locks meant squat in Section, but at least they offered some sense of security, albeit only a false one.

Ripping off his clothes and letting them lie wherever they fell, he strode into his bathroom and turned on the shower with a vicious twist. Looking down at himself, he saw his cock jutting impudently up against his firm abdomen. Trying to resist the temptation to close his eyes and take it in his hand, imagining that Michael's fingers were stroking it, Walter stepped under the cold spray.

But the temperature of the water didn't matter. His hard-on refused to subside, imperatively demanding attention instead. With a groan, Walter surrendered and slid his fingers down his groin to grasp the hot flesh that taunted him.

Already a bead of his essence had pearled on the tip of his cock, and he rubbed it over the reddened head with his thumb, teasing the slit. The fingers of his other hand stroked the twin jewels that swung heavily between his legs. Impatiently he sought the tingling that began at the base of his spine and presaged the beginning of an orgasm.

Try as he might, the feeling eluded him.

And then a hot, willing mouth engulfed his turgid flesh, teeth scored its length and a tongue lapped at it. Now the tingling started. His hips rocked forward, driving his cock deep into the mouth that suckled him.

With a hoarse shout he began to come, spurting his essence…

Over his hand, over the wall of the shower, over his abdomen.

Reluctantly he opened his eyes, finding himself alone, as he had known all along he truly was.

But not for long! He was the master of his fate, inasmuch Section let him be. He would take the first female operative he came across and fuck her blind. The women of Section had made it more than plain that they found him very appealing, in a dark, dangerous way.

He would not be a slave to his cock, which apparently wanted the recruit who had been given to him. Walter would screw that notion right out of it!

Roughly drying himself off, the cold op could feel waves of depression washing over him.

Who was he kidding? He did not want a woman. He wanted the youth he was training!

Michael had retreated to the quarters set aside for the new recruits. Fortunately, at that time of day there was no one there. He gathered up clean clothing and headed for the shower.

Stripping off the sticky trousers that were a constant reminder of how he had lost control, he silently cursed himself for driving away his mentor, when he had been so close to getting what he wanted from him.

"You just had to go and touch him, didn't you? Fool! You're such a fool!"

But he had seen how aroused his climax had made the older man, and he couldn't resist touching him. Walter had been very hard, his heat scorching Michael's hand through the fabric of his jeans.

Dismayed, Michael looked down now and saw that his cock had once again grown painfully erect. He groaned softly and turned on the shower.

Efficiently he scrubbed himself clean. But he couldn't prevent himself from lightly tugging the length of his arousal, and then squeezing it tighter, until his grip became almost painful. His other hand slick from the soap, he caressed his balls, and then rubbed the sensitive flesh behind them.

The tiny puckered opening lured him to dip past the tight ring of tissue, pressing his finger further and further in. A second finger joined the first, and he struggled to synchronize the movements of both hands, but the feelings built upon each other. Soft moans spilled from his mouth as water cascaded down upon him. His fingers probed deeper, stroked harder, but orgasm eluded him.

And then he imagined Walter doing this to him, sliding his hard cock deep into his ass, positioning Michael's hips so the cold operative could fuck him wildly, madly, passionately, angling for maximum depth and pleasure!

Michael came all over his hand and chest, and slumped to the floor of the shower stall, exhausted by the emotional turmoil as well as having come twice in less than an hour.

"Yo, Michael! Leave some hot water for the rest of us!" one of the recruits he shared these quarters with called as he banged on the bathroom door.

Michael staggered out of the shower and dried himself off. He was surprised to find himself hungry. A glance at his wristwatch as he slid it on revealed that it was almost dinnertime.

Walter would definitely be down in the commissary. He was nothing it not a creature of habit, and he ate at the same time every day.

His recruit determined to join him. Proximity had to count for something! From now on Walter would think he had grown another appendage! Michael planned on gluing himself to the older operative's hip.

He had heard about the deep sub-basements of Section, where the surveillance cameras couldn't go. If it was the last thing he did, he was going to lure Walter down there.

And get the cold op's hot flesh into him!

True to his word, Michael dogged Walter's footsteps. Every time Walter turned around, Michael was there. But he was smart. He wore no knowing smirk; he played no foolish word games. He simply offered his presence.

And it was driving Walter crazy.

Walter ignored it as long as he could. But one afternoon, one long and particularly trying afternoon, he snapped. "Good Christ, Michael, what the fuck are you trying to do to me?" he hissed, as always mindful of the hypervigilant Section eyes and ears.

Michael regarded his mentor blankly. "Excusez-moi?"

With only a quick and incautious glance in either direction, Walter slammed Michael's body into the nearest wall. Let people watching think he was merely manhandling his trainee. He was. God, and he was loving it!

"Why, you little cockteaser, I oughta—" The sparkle in Walter's blue eyes flared into a veritable conflagration, and Michael had the sense that he was not the only one who was going to get burned.

His large, calloused hands gripping the lapels of Michael's mission jacket, Walter drew so near, Michael could feel his breath on his face. On his mouth. Oh, God. He closed his eyes, certain Walter could feel his diamond-hard erection straining to break free from its bonds within his pants.

His teeth bared in what could only be a feral grimace, Walter snarled, "For two cents, I'd fuck your ass so hard, you wouldn't be able to sit down for a week."

Michael gasped. Walter smiled, thinking he had finally managed to scare the crap out of the kid. But no…

Michael's eyes widened and flew to a point beyond Walter. Walter turned involuntarily and cried, "Shit!" in a low, grating whisper.

"Is there a problem here?" Operations' silky-smooth smarm poured over Walter like something viscous.

Unable to prevent a moue of disgust from distorting his mouth, Walter winced at Operations' reaction.

"I said…is there a *problem* here?" Operations repeated. This time minus the supposed charm.

"Yeah," Walter answered reluctantly, drawing another gasp from Michael's lips. Dear God, even with Paul standing inches away from him, Walter could feel himself hardening in response to the thought of Michael's mouth. On him. Drawing him in. Sucking…

Operations waited expectantly for Walter to continue.

Walter blinked. "But nothing I can't handle."

"Then handle it somewhere else. We don't need every operative in Section watching you ream a recruit's tender young ass." At Walter's unavoidably shocked look, the man formerly known as Paul Wolfe smiled. He was aptly named. For his smile was definitely vulpine.

"Figuratively, of course." Unlike Michael, Operations had no such compunction about playing enigmatic word games with Walter. He knew exactly what he was saying. He suspected that Walter had become a trifle too attached to his material. Ah, well, it happened.

But it was nothing that a couple of good hard strokes in the confines of one's bed couldn't take care of. Or was it?

Take care of it. That's what Operations was saying. Take care of it.

Walter swallowed hard and gritted his teeth. He wanted the young trainee with a fervor that frightened him. Ops was saying, Sure, knock yourself out, have a good time. Fuck the kid. But move on. Get over it.

Walter strode down the corridor, away from Operations, Michael in tow. In fact, Michael, despite his superior height, struggled to keep up with the older man's pace.

"Where…where are we going?"

"Down."

Michael gulped. Down? What was down? Down didn't seem like a good direction. Things that went down might not come back up.

"What's downstairs?"

"Sub-levels," Walter replied tersely, cutting off further talk with a sharp gesture to his lips.

Michael shook his head, his shoulder-length hair curling around the nape of his neck in a capricious manner. Almost tantalizing Walter. Teasing him. Making him want to touch it, taste it in his mouth. God, how sick was that?

When they reached the elevators, Walter stopped, so suddenly that Michael nearly collided with him. "S-sorry."

Walter threw his pointing (hell, accusing was more like it, he hoped like hell Michael would shut up) finger in Michael's face. Each stab of his finger like a physical blow.

"Shut the fuck up, if you know what's good for you, boy. I mean it."

Michael obeyed. Without question.

When they arrived in the sub-levels, Michael's first thought was, It's so dark, how can anyone see what they're do—? Oh. Ohhh…

His heart beat faster. Even as his cock swelled in his pants.

Walter suddenly thrust Michael into the dark recesses of the corridor, and Michael almost yelled, his surprise was so great.

He couldn't see. He really couldn't see. His eyes tried to adjust to the lack of light, his pupils dilating as far as they would go. In vain. All in vain.

Walter repeated his earlier gesture, body slamming Michael into what seemed to be another wall. Michael's face pressed hard and fast against the wall, he could feel hands grip his waist, unbuckle his pants…

The air was cold on his hot flesh. It should have cooled him down. It didn't.

It was every bit as arousing as it was unexpected.

But he just had to say something. He had to know.

"Walter…is that all I am, just an anonymous fuck?"

The hands stilled where they were. Then the sibilant hiss came back, echoing in his ears and down the length of that subterranean blackness.

"If Operations says that's what you are, Sunshine…no one better argue with him. Least of all, me."

"Then you think it will all end here?" Michael sounded resigned, yet his voice was tinged with something else. Sadness? Regret, perhaps?

"I know it will."

"Ah…" Michael nodded, even though the older man, like him, could not see. Unseen, unnoticed, his green eyes filled with tears. Frustration. Fear. But most of all…something far more forbidden…

Love.

Walter knew better than to try to penetrate an untried ass without preparation or lubrication. It would be painful for both of them. But he had to do something. This close to his heart's desire was making him achingly aware of his true feelings.

Carelessly shoving his own pants down, just enough to bare his groin, his burgeoning erection, the tip already slicked with the first drops of his essence, sprung forth, popping itself into that soft, shadowy crevice between Michael's buttocks.

He wanted to be inside him. Christ, it was killing him to—

—rub himself, wet, hard, slippery, along the crack of Michael's ass.

Oh, God, he couldn't hold on. He hadn't felt such a loss of control in years. Come, wet, hot, slippery, jetted from the tip of his cock in three long, deep spurts. Emptying himself against Michael's ass and back, his cock rode the outer perimeters of the sweet, come-filled track it wanted to possess.

Heaving himself against Michael's body with a groan, he abruptly realized that he was the only one who could claim satisfaction. Reaching around Michael's waist, he slid his hands lower. Slowly, inexorably, until he gripped Michael's still-erect manhood.

Telling himself that he was only doing this to finish things between them, he pumped Michael's cock, harder, faster, deeper, ignoring Michael's barely audible noises.

"Come, goddammit! You little prick, I'll teach you to fuck with things you don't understand!"

Still, Michael resisted him. Whether through sheer physical stamina or will, Walter couldn't be sure.

Finally, Walter gathered a liberal amount of the fresh come coating Michael's back and stroked it gently, almost lovingly, up and down the hardened length of Michael's cock.

"From me…to you…sweetheart," he whispered, biting down hard on Michael's shoulder.

Michael's cock jumped obediently in Walter's hands, and with a slow, shivery shudder, Michael came.

His hands suddenly filled to overflowing with Michael's hot life essence, Walter listened to Michael's breathing begin to slow, grow more regular. Laying his cheek against Michael's shoulder, all at once he drew back.

The metallic tang of blood in his mouth, at first he thought he must have bitten his lip during climax. But no… Carefully nudging Michael's shoulder, he felt the ragged edge of the small laceration he'd made.

Part of him was appalled. That he could do such a thing to anyone was bad enough. But to bestow such an animalistic gesture upon someone he actually lo—

Oh, yeah. I marked you for life. What an honor, kid.

Suddenly Walter laughed, the sound obscenely loud in the hushed hallway. Ops' solution? Get over it.

Well, it was done. But it wasn't over.

"*Now* you're my bitch, sweetheart," Walter whispered hoarsely against Michael's nape. "*My* material…*my*…."

His words trailed off even as they sank into the hopeless morass that Walter called a brain.

Just plain *mine*.

With a stifled cry, Michael sat bolt upright in bed. His legs tangled in the sweat-soaked sheets, his chest heaving with each painful breath, his eyes searched, wild and panicked, the stygian night of his bedroom.

Although his groin was sticky with semen, his cock was still hard.

It had been days since Walter had taken Michael to the sub-levels of Section, and had climaxed against his ass. In spite of the young recruit's best efforts to remain in control, the older operative had forced him to come as well. He had bitten him until he bled. He had called him 'his'. And then he had kissed him, hot, passionate kisses that left him ravished. Tongues dueling, teasing, tasting, probing.

And then Walter had turned on his heel and left him, deep in the bowels of Section. If life hadn't taught him it was useless, Michael would have wept out his loss there in the darkness.

Numbly, he had pulled trousers up over his shaking legs and fastened his belt buckle. He had run a hand through his hair, trying to give it some semblance of order. For a moment, he gave in to his despair, leaning his head against the wall where Walter had let him taste heaven, and then snatched it away from him.

How many times had he managed to get close to the older man, only to be thrust away? No more! he vowed. He just could not take it! All he wanted was peace.

But peace eluded him. Days were spent in Walter's company, learning the tricks of the operative's trade, working so hard that he hoped sweet oblivion would welcome him into her arms each night.

But nights were spent tossing and turning, exhausted but unable to sleep. And when he finally managed to succumb to fatigue, he was ambushed by the dreams. In each dream Walter would shove him up against the wall and strip his trousers from him. And in each dream Walter would walk away from him, leaving him on the brink of orgasm, trembling and unfulfilled.

A soft tap sounded on his door. Michael scrubbed his face and then reached for his shorts. Sliding them on over his long legs, the recruit got to his feet and tottered for a brief moment, trying to regain his equilibrium.

The tapping came again. Sighing deeply, Michael made his way to the door and carelessly flung it open.

Standing there, looking absolutely disreputable…absolutely gorgeous…was Walter.

The bandanna he had recently taken to wearing, to conceal what he saw as his thinning hair, was hanging lopsided over one ear. A shirt tail was hanging loose and the buttons were mismatched. He grinned and slurred, "Hi, sweet cheeks!"

Michael could smell the sweet odor of alcohol. "Have you been drinking, Walter?"

"Hell yes!" the cold op chortled. "And I've had me a snootful, too! You gonna invite me in, baby doll?"

The recruit narrowed his eyes at his mentor. "Can you give me one good reason why I should?"

The corner of Walter's mouth twisted in a grin. "Because you love me?"

Michael gasped and tried to slam the door shut, but Walter was already pushing his way into the room. He staggered just a trifle, and lurched to a table that sat, bare, near the door to the bedroom.

The younger man closed his door and reluctantly watched his mentor, fascinated in spite of himself.

Fumbling in his vest pocket, Walter finally got his hand around whatever was hiding in there and pulled it out. Setting his legs wide apart for balance, the cold operative placed the object on the table and turned a switch. "Now we won't be disturbed." The drunk who had knocked on Michael's door was gone, and in his place, the competent operative who was most senior in his department.

Against his will, Michael stepped closer to the man who held his heart in his callused hands. Curiously he asked, "What is that?"

"Just a little something I whipped up in the last couple of days. I wanted to make sure when I took you, we wouldn't draw any unnecessary attention."

"You're—you're going to take me?"

"Damn straight, babycakes! Did you think what we did the last time was enough?"

"You left me so abruptly, I didn't know what to think. And you've been so distant, so aloof. I thought you scratched your itch, and were done with me!"

Walter crowded close to the younger man, rocking his hips forward, letting him feel the arousal that was growing increasingly more urgent. "Oh, I scratched that itch all right, but I barely touched the surface. There is no way am I done with you! The last time caught me unprepared, but not now. This little gadget will block the surveillance cam. We should have at least half an hour before anyone gets curious about all the white noise coming from here! Forty-five minutes if there's a God!"

Michael's mouth was so dry it felt like cotton. "How else are you prepared?"

Grinning rakishly, Walter held up a box of condoms and a tube of lubricant. "I'm on the edge here, boy. I don't think foreplay is an option tonight! If you want any kind of finesse, I'd suggest you hustle your sweet ass into that bedroom and spread eagle on the bed!"

The older operative was disappointed when his material didn't obey him immediately. And then he started to worry. Had he read the situation incorrectly? Was it possible Michael no longer wanted him?

The green-eyed temptation before him lazily looped his arms around his neck, and rubbed his groin against the evidence of Walter's fierce arousal. "Kiss me!" Michael ordered softly, letting his mentor feel how much he wanted him. "Fuck my mouth with your tongue!"

With a groan, Walter took what the younger man was offering him. His tongue stabbed into honeyed depths, stroking his lover, testing the textures of the mouth that was driving him to distraction. The condoms and the lube dropped from Walter's hands. They filled themselves with the curves of Michael's firm buttocks, caressing the crevice between, pressing the puckered opening that begged to be plundered.

"Jesus, God! Michael! I've got to have you now! Have you done this before?"

"The level of my expertise didn't seem to concern you the last time, Walter."

"The last time I *knew* I wouldn't be able to do much more than play with you! Now I want to fuck you till you don't know which end is up! But I don't want to hurt you!"

"You won't hurt me! I need you inside me so badly, I don't think I can wait for the bedroom!" Michael's thumbs hooked in the waistband of his shorts and shoved them down over his hips. They dropped to the floor and he stood before his lover in all his naked, muscular glory.

Walter jerked as if touched with a live electrical wire. His fingers were wrestling with the mismatched buttons on his shirt when Michael pushed him beyond his control. The young recruit picked up the tube and squeezed a goodly amount of lubrication onto his fingers. The cold operative watched with parted lips as those clever fingers worked the opening he was getting desperate to bury himself in.

Michael dropped to his knees before Walter and unfastened his trousers, pushing them past the erection that demanded his attention. He forgot about the rest of the older man's clothes as a bead of moisture on the tip of Walter's cock called to him. Helpless to resist, he leaned forward and licked it off with a broad swipe of his tongue.

Walter moaned and shuddered.

Michael got back to his feet and turned away from his mentor. Bracing himself over the table by his bedroom door, he spread his legs, giving the cold operative an excellent view of his actions.

Walter watched avidly as his young lover speared his lubricated fingers into his narrow passageway, preparing it for the ravishment he knew was coming. Somehow he managed to get his clothes off. Trembling so much he dropped the box of condoms twice, the older man tore open a foil packet and rolled its contents over his engorged length. Applying a liberal coat of lubrication, he stepped closer to the heaven his recruit was offering him.

Separating the firm buttocks that had haunted his dreams, Walter aimed his cock at the opening to Michael's body and nudged it gently. The tight ring of muscle gave way to accept the intrusion and Michael couldn't suppress a moan. "Deeper, Walter!" he pleaded.

"Easy, baby. If we go too fast, I can hurt you!"

"*Fuck* hurting me! I need to feel you all the way inside me!"

Walter rocked his hips and Michael found himself stretched by another inch of hard, operative cock. He tried to thrust back and take more of his lover in the channel that had never accommodated a man before, but Walter held his hips in a hard, almost painful grasp, and wouldn't let him move.

Gradually, inch by slow inch, the cold operative pushed his turgid flesh into the young recruit's body. Michael thought he would go mad with the wanting. And then he felt hairy thighs rubbing against the curve of his backside and knew Walter was all the way in. He began an easy pace that measured his length again and again in his lover's narrow channel.

The rhythmic motion was too much for Michael. With a hoarse shout he began to come, spilling his seed on the table that bore his weight and the weight of the man who lay over him. Walter's hand reached around quickly to muffle his lover's cries, as his hips pistoned faster and faster, bringing him closer and closer to satisfaction.

Michael scrabbled at the hand that covered his mouth, and then succeeded in taking two of the fingers into the hot, wet cavity. He sucked on them and teased them with his tongue, biting down wickedly, while Walter's other hand seized Michael's cock and pumped it in time with his own strokes.

And then the older man touched a place within Michael and he screamed around the fingers in his mouth, and he came again, covering the table with his semen.

The spasms triggered Walter's own long-denied climax, and he poured himself into the body of his young lover.

When he finally regained some sense of time and place, the cold operative realized the tremors rippling through the body he was still draped over were sobs. "Shit!" he castigated himself. "I *did* hurt you! Oh God, baby, I'm so sorry!" He eased out of Michael's body and scooped him up in his arms, making his way to the tiny bath.

Michael's own arms went around Walter's neck and held him close. "No, Walter! You didn't hurt me! It's just—I've never been loved like that before! No one ever told me it could be like that!"

The older man set him down beside the tub and began to run a warm bath. "I still think I should have been more careful!" He disposed of the used condom while he waited for the tub to fill.

Michael trailed kisses up Walter's torso and licked at a flat nipple, bringing it to pebble hardness. "God, Walter! If you had been any more careful, I think you would have killed me!"

His mentor tested the temperature of the water and grunted with satisfaction. "Just right!" He eased Michael into the soothing water and then climbed in behind him, cradling him between his muscular thighs.

With a long sigh, Michael rested his head on the cold operative's chest. His unruly curls tickled the older man's chin. "Where do we go from here, sir?" He couldn't subdue a chuckle as he felt Walter's cock rise against his hip.

Walter did like him to acknowledge who was the boss.

The older man leaned his head back, enjoying the coolness of the porcelain in contrast to the heat of the water.

"I'm getting too old for this mission shit." He ignored his material's protest. "I plan on telling Operations that as soon as you've completed your training, I want out of the cold op business."

Michael turned in Walter's embrace and looked at him soberly. "He'll order you canceled! Please don't do this! I don't think I could survive Section without you here!"

Walter ran a fond hand over the hair that tumbled into Michael's eyes, brushing it to the side. "It would bother you so much?" He pressed a chaste kiss to that smooth brow.

"Well, I do have a plan, baby. I'm pretty good at tinkering with things, like that anti-scan gadget I came up with. And Section is always on the lookout for an operative who's had viable experience in the field. I think Operations will vet my transfer to another department, maybe weapons, maybe R&D. Who knows, amigo?"

Michael hugged him fiercely.

Walter got out of the tub. "I have to reset that thingamajig I created before TPTB are alerted that something decidedly unSection-like is going on in recruit territory!"

"Walter?"

The older man turned in the doorway. "What is it, sweet cheeks?"

"Would you consider staying the night?"

The corner of Walter's mouth kicked up in a way that Michael was finding most arousing. "I was hoping you'd ask!" And he padded out into the other room.

"I love you, Walter!" Michael said, but he said it too softly for anyone to hear.

"I love you." The words were so simple, yet they were impossible to say.They danced around the actual declarations of love for months. Months that turned into years.

It was there between them, like a living, breathing entity, yet it had no substance in their world.

Walter could only watch as Michael absorbed his lessons all too well. Month after month, year after year, Michael pushed himself to become better and better at doing Section's bidding.

He succeeded beyond Walter's wildest dreams. He fought his way easily to the top echelon of Section's field operatives, eventually commanding even Operations' respect. Walter should have been damn proud of his creation.

But instead…the two men drifted apart. No longer able to see a vestige of humanity in the younger man, Walter let go of the one thing that made his life bearable.

He still had a heart. And a soul. Not many could claim that. Even after all these years, it was still true.

But Michael…Michael broke that heart…when he lost his soul…and only Walter cared enough to grieve that loss.

They could never be what they once were.

They could never go there again.

And Walter would die, alone and unloved, someday, but Michael's name would still be in his heart, if not on his lips.

Michael picked up his panel, no longer able to prolong the inevitable parting. "Goodbye, Walter," he said huskily.

Walter barely nodded, his light blue eyes tearing. He told himself it was a fault in the lighting. He couldn't have seen regret in those dark green eyes. Not after all this time.

His hands shook as he looked at the inventory list before him, the date jumping out at him again. It was twenty years since Michael first came into Section.

Twenty…years…most of which were spent in the pursuit of things better left unsaid.

"I love you."