------------------------------
The Bait
by Lianne Burwell
June 1998
------------------------------

"Our target is Klaus Borne," Operations said, bringing up the display. It 
showed a man in his fifties, but still fit. Blond hair, blue eyes. The 
perfect Aryan. "He is a weapons broker, with ties to Red Cell. The 
objective is to get into his computer system and retrieve the list of his 
sales and clients.

"What sort of outside connections does his system have?" Birkoff asked, 
fingers already itching.

"None," was the blunt reply. "He keeps his system completely stand-alone. 
We need to get someone inside the house."

"What is the security like? Are there any weaknesses? Does *he* have any 
weaknesses that we can exploit?" Michael fired off the questions, coolly.

"His security is quite good, but it does have one hole. A personal 
weakness of Borne's." Operations nodded to Madeline, inviting the 
profiler to continue the briefing.

"We have found one obvious way in," she said, standing. "Mr. Borne has a 
fondness for young men. He usually picks them up at a bar called 'The 
Bull Leaper', near his home in Crete. Usually foreign tourists. They 
spend a day or two, then leave, well-rewarded for their time. No apparent 
violence involved. The young men all have seemed well-pleased with their 
weekend."

Michael frowned. "Does he pick specific types? We could plant someone to 
be picked up."

Madeline punched a key on the pad in front of her, and the display 
changed to show five young men. "These are confirmed... guests of 
Mr. Borne. All between eighteen and twenty-three. Short dark hair, dark 
eyes." And a look of vulnerability that was obvious to everyone. Gazes 
started to turn towards Birkoff, who shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"You can't be serious!" Nikita said, angrily. "Birkoff doesn't have the 
field experience. Besides, he's too valuable to risk."

Operations glared at her. "On the contrary, *no* one is too valuable. 
Besides, he's perfect for the mission. Not only does he fit the profile, 
he is also the best qualified to access the necessary information, 
without leaving traces, once he is inside. Birkoff, you will be briefed 
by Michael. Dismissed."

Nikita opened her mouth to protest again, but Operations was already gone.

* * * * *

"So you understand?"

Birkoff nodded, then repeated the setup. "I'm a university student, 
studying Political Sciences at Queen's University in Canada. My parents 
have sent me on vacation to Crete as a reward for making the Dean's list. 
I'm there for two weeks. I arrive on Monday, and go to several clubs that 
night. The next day, I settle on 'The Bull Leaper'. I don't go out of my 
way to attract attention, but make sure Borne notices me. If he invites 
me home, I wait until the last night and use the drug on my pin," he held 
it up, "to make sure he stays asleep. I find the computers and download 
the information. Conceal it in my luggage. Then I finish the vacation 
off, normally, to avoid raising suspicions."

"Very good. If he *doesn't* approach you, you finish the vacation and we 
try again with another agent. Do *not* try anything foolish."

Birkoff gave a small snort. "I know, Michael. I don't have the training 
to break into his home, and I don't want to attract attention by being 
too blatant. He isn't stupid. I know what I'm supposed to do."

"Good. Now, are you *sure* that you can do this, Birkoff? It would not 
reflect badly on you if you said you couldn't. You were not brought into 
Section for this sort of work."

Birkoff thought about it for a moment. While other agents had been asked 
to sleep with targets or informants, this was the first time that anyone 
had even suggested that *he* do this. But, no matter what Michael said, a 
refusal would not look good, especially not with Operations.

"I can do it," he said.

He just wished he felt as confident as he sounded.

* * * * *

Birkoff was packing when there was a knock at the door. They had 
practically had to supply him with an entire new wardrobe for this 
mission. The clothes he had was fine for working inside Section, but they 
were completely inadequate for a Mediterranean vacation.

"Come in," he called, wondering if he would have the nerve to wear the 
bathing suit, which looked to cover less than he underwear did.

"Hey, Birkoff."

"Walter! What's up?" Birkoff turned towards the grey-haired armorer, 
dropping the bathing suit into his duffel-bag.

"I just wanted to make sure that you were okay."

"I'm fine," Birkoff replied with a slight frown. "Why wouldn't I be?"

Walter looked a little embarrassed. "Well, it's not like you've done this 
sort of thing before. Hell, you hardly even ever leave this place. Now, 
they're not only asking you to go on a field mission, the want you to 
seduce someone. An older man, They want you to *sleep* with him. I mean, 
have you ever..."

"Have I ever slept with a guy?" Birkoff suggested when Walter's voice 
trailed off. "Yes. Walter, I'll be *fine*. Madeline said that he never 
hurt any of the guys he picks up, that no one has ever complained about 
him. It's not like they're throwing me at some sort of sadistic pervert." 
Not that it would have stopped them, he knew.

"I know, but it can still mess with your mind. I just don't want to see 
you get... hurt. Mentally, emotionally *or* physically."

Birkoff gave him a small smile. "I know. I'll be *fine*. And if I'm not, 
I'll recover."

"I hope so. Now. Want some help packing?"

"Sure."

* * * * *

When Birkoff stepped off the plane, he was immediately struck by the 
heat. He was used to cooler climes, and air-conditioned rooms, not heat 
and humidity. Collecting his bags, he followed the tour company 
representative to the bus which was waiting to take the group to the 
hotel.

Section had found a travel agency with a group headed for the right area, 
and booked him with it. Again, it would make him less suspicious to 
observers. He had avoided talking to the other members of the group 
during the flight, burying his nose in a novel. He wished he could have 
brought a laptop with computer games along, but they didn't want him 
connected with computer work. That was why his cover was of a political 
sciences student. Through his time at Section, he knew plenty about 
computers and politics, but little else.

Arriving at the hotel, he was quite happy to head for his room for a nap. 
It was only noon, but it was *very* hot outside. Plenty of time to 
explore once the sun was lower on the horizon.

* * * * *

The first night, he wandered around town, visiting most of the night-
spots. 'The Bull Leaper' wasn't the first he visited, or the last. He 
spent about a half-hour in each club, drinking club soda and watching the 
dancing. He had plenty of invitations to dance, or more, but turned them 
all down. In the late hours, just before the clubs closed, he headed back 
to his hotel, bladder bursting, and head aching from the insistent beat 
of the music. Bed was sounding *very* good.

* * * * *

He woke late, the next morning, and starving. He rubbed on his sunscreen, 
remembering Nikita's warnings about not getting burnt, then pulled out 
some of the clothes that wardrobe had supplied him with. Clad in cutoff 
bluejeans that went almost to his knees, a brightly colored t-shirt and 
birkenstock sandals, he went looking for breakfast or lunch. He wasn't 
choosy at that point.

The outdoor restaurant was very touristy, with a pseudo-quaint style, but 
the food was great. After eating a wonderful pasta dish, he went to check 
out the beaches. After all, he was a normal tourist, and it was a normal 
touristy thing to do. It was quite nice, too, though he wished he had 
worn a hat to go along with his normal tinted glasses. The sun was 
bright, and the sky was an unbelievably vivid shade of blue. It never 
looked like that back home.

By late afternoon, he had spent time on the beach, gone for snacks and 
visited the tourist-trap souvenir shops. He had found a statue for 
Walter, and a gold necklace for Nikita. Some of the others, like Michael, 
would be more difficult to buy for, but he still had more than a week.

All right, so he was spending Section money, not his own. He was supposed 
to blend in, and that meant souvenirs and gifts, didn't it?

* * * * *

That night, after a late afternoon nap, he went to two clubs before 
stopping in at 'The Bull Leaper' and staying. He stuck mainly to soft-
drinks, and made small talk with some of the other people.

"Hey," a voice said from right behind him. "Want to dance?"

He turned and found a young woman, a year or two younger than him, and a 
few inches taller, standing there wearing a smile. Her accent said she 
was English. With long dark hair, and vivid green eyes she was a beauty, 
and a lot of the other people at the bar were watching them. He glanced 
at the dance floor, uncertainly. Refusing to dance might attract the 
wrong attention, but...

"I... don't know how..."

She beamed. "No problem. I'll teach you." With that, she grabbed his hand 
and pulled him out onto the floor.

Actually, there wasn't a lot of dancing going on. The floor was so 
crowded that there was barely enough room to move. The girl positioned 
him, then stood in front of him and started to shift her hips. He 
imitated the movement, feeling a little ridiculous.

Bit by bit, she added more movement. First the arms, then the feet, until 
she was gyrating in perfect sync with the music. Birkoff did his best to 
follow suit. He knew he wasn't going to be able to do this as well as 
her, but he found himself getting more enthusiastic as the song went on 
and on.

Still, it was fun, and when the music was finished he bought her a drink. 
Later, she suggested dancing of a different sort, but he managed to beg 
off. From her smile, she probably figured he was a virgin. In some ways, 
she wasn't far from the truth.

* * * * *

The next night, he went straight back to 'The Bull Leaper'. Having gotten 
over his initial shyness, he accepted more offers to dance this time, 
being careful who he said yes to. He still turned down all the... other 
suggestions.

All the offers were from women, though. There was no sign of Borne yet.

* * * * *

Borne didn't show up until the weekend, and Birkoff was starting to get 
worried. Section said that he was in town, but they might be wrong.

Birkoff arrived at 'The Bull Leaper' at his usual time. Days had been 
spent on the beach and on the usual sorts of tours of the local ruins. He 
was actually developing a tan - a first for him. He'd even worked up the 
nerve to go to the beach wearing that bathing suit that wardrobe had 
supplied him with.

He was saying hi to the tour group from England that he had been sitting 
with, most nights, when he noticed the new group over at one of the 
tables in the roped off VIP area.

Borne.

Birkoff was a little shocked. Pictures did not communicate just how 
*large* the man was. The man was well over six and a half feet tall, and 
muscular. The blond hair and blue eyes seemed perfectly designed to show 
off his tan. Birkoff gaped at the handsome face for a minute, trying to 
figure out why the man would choose to pick up short-term companions in a 
*bar* of all places. And *pay* them afterwards. With his looks...

On the other hand, with his occupation, he probably could afford to let 
anyone get to close, hence the short, anonymous encounters.

Suddenly, Birkoff realized that Borne had seen him staring, and turned 
away. He was embarrassed to feel a flush spreading over his face. He 
hoped he hadn't screwed up the mission getting caught like that. The girl 
who had first asked him to dance, Becky, dragged him out on the dance 
floor.

At least his dancing was improving.

* * * * *

Borne was there, again, the next night. Birkoff was sure that he was 
being watched, but nothing more happened. He was feeling a bit 
frustrated, wondering if maybe Section had made a mistake sending him. 
Maybe they should have sent someone with more field experience. More 
experience, period.

He kept looking over, and every so often he would meet with Borne's gaze. 
Each time, he quickly turned away. How the hell was he supposed to seduce 
the man? He'd never *done* this sort of thing before.

The next night, Borne was gone again.

* * * * *

Wednesday night, Birkoff was nursing what was going to be his last drink 
of the night. Borne had shown up on Friday and Saturday night, but not 
since. Obviously he only came in on weekends, which meant that the next 
weekend would be his last chance. Now if only he could figure out a way 
to get the man's attention.

"Hey. Wanna dance?"

The voice was definitely baritone, and Birkoff turned, already flushing 
as he tried to figure out how to say no. Then he changed his mind. The 
man was one of the people in Borne's entourage. If this were a test...

"I've never danced with a guy before," he settled on saying.

"No problem," the man smiled. "It's not much different."

After a moment's hesitation, Birkoff followed the man out on to the dance 
floor. Since the dancing here didn't involve a lot of physical contact, 
he was right. It wasn't much different from dancing with a girl. 
Afterwards, he accepted the offer of another drink, but turned down the 
suggestion of spending the night with the man.

They were still chatting, though, as they left the club. Birkoff made a 
polite good-bye, and turned to head towards his hotel, when the man 
grabbed his arm and pushed him against a handy wall and kissed him.

Birkoff's eyes widened, as he tried to figure out a way out of this 
without breaking his cover. He could break the man's arm, or something, 
with his training, but most college students didn't have that training. 
Luckily, he didn't have to decide.

The man pulled away, grinning. A hand reached down to cup the erection 
that Birkoff was surprised to find he had developed. Birkoff cursed his 
fair skin, which was probably beet-red by that point.

"You sure you wouldn't like to go home with me?" the man asked.

"I..." Birkoff wasn't sure what to say, so he settled for pulling away 
walking very fast towards the hotel. The man didn't follow.

Was it a test? And had he passed or failed?

* * * * *

The rest of the week went the same way. Night's at the club, days on the 
beach. Several times, Birkoff had been sure that someone was watching 
him, but he never saw anyone obviously looking in his direction when he 
turned around. On one occasion, when he was going through the hotel 
lobby, he saw someone talking to the clerk at the registration desk. 
Maybe he was being suspicious, but he was sure that he'd seen the woman 
at the club.

And once more, later that week, Birkoff was asked to dance by a man he 
had seen in the company of Borne. Again, he said yes to the dance, but no 
to the after-dance suggestions. He wasn't sure that it was the right 
thing to do, and Operations would no doubt have said to sleep with anyone 
that might get him close to Borne, but Birkoff couldn't bring himself to 
do it. Sleeping with Borne, he had prepared himself for. Sleeping with 
other men to *get* to Borne?

No.

* * * * *

Friday night, Borne showed up again. He was watching Birkoff, but this 
time he was a little more blatant about it. Between dances, he saw the 
man talking to one of the bartenders, while looking in Birkoff's 
direction. The bartender answered at length. While he couldn't be sure 
that he was the topic of conversation, Birkoff knew that he had told part 
of his cover story to the man. He looked away.

A couple of minutes later, a glass was pushed in front of him. He looked 
up into the bartender's face, puzzled.

"Compliments of Mr. Borne," the man said, pointing at Borne's table.

Birkoff looked over, trying to figure out what he was supposed to do. He 
settled for a nod and a small smile.

"Tell him... thank you," he told the bartender.

He thought that maybe this would be when Borne would approach him, but 
nothing else happened that night. He flew out late Sunday afternoon. He 
was running out of time.

* * * * *

Saturday. Tomorrow he was leaving. He was not looking forward to telling 
Operations that he had failed his mission, even if Michael *had* told him 
not to push matters.

He had spent the morning out on the beach, trying to relax, but his 
stomach roiled, refusing to allow him any peace. After lunch, he went 
back to his room to try to nap. Tonight at 'The Bull Leaper' would be his 
last chance to complete the mission.

He had just woken from his nap, and was trying to decide what to wear to 
the club that night, when there was a knock at the door. Puzzled, he 
opened it. It was the man from the club, Wednesday. The one who had also 
been with Borne the night before, and the week before.

"Yes?" he asked, still a little muddled from his nap. The man smiled.

"Mr. Borne would like you to have dinner with him."

"Dinner?" Birkoff asked, eyes wide and a slight squeak in his voice. Then 
he collected himself. "Why me?"

The man's smile got wider. "Because he finds you attractive. Don't worry, 
you'll be well rewarded."

"Rewarded?" Why was he arguing? This was what was *supposed* to happen.

"No one has complained before. And if you like, it will just be dinner."

Birkoff chewed on his lower lip. "What am I supposed to wear?"

The man's grin took on a triumphant tint.

* * * * *

Birkoff stared through the window as the car pulled up in front of 
Borne's villa. Like the man, the pictures of the villa hadn't given a 
true impression of the size and grandeur.

He had dressed quickly, while the driver waited. Cotton slacks, a white 
shirt and his jeans jacket with several pins and brooches. One of them 
was the one with the drug on the pin. For later.

He got out of the car, and it pulled away, heading for a side building 
that his briefing said contained the garage and servant's quarters. There 
would be no problems stumbling over a stray servant in the middle of the 
night.

"I'm glad you decided to come, Jeff."

Birkoff jumped, then reminded himself that Jeff was the name of his 
cover. "I... was curious," he said, wondering if it sounded as lame to 
the other man as it did to his own ears. Apparently not, since Borne's 
smile didn't change. He held out a hand to Birkoff, instead.

"Let me show you around."

* * * * *

The villa was impressive. It was one level, spread out over a large area, 
and made a lot of use of stucco and some sort of white stone, giving a 
cooling effect. The windows were wide, and there were few doors, making 
the place feel airy.

There were no evident security cameras, and Birkoff didn't dare ask any 
questions. Borne did mention that the grounds were patrolled regularly, 
so it might be that the assumption was that inside the building, security 
was not needed, since any visitors would no doubt be with Borne the 
entire evening.

The only computer that Birkoff saw was in the library. He noted the 
location, so that he would be able to return to it in the night.

The tour ended at the pool, which was positioned near the edge of the 
cliff overlooking the sea. Tables were set up place settings for two, and 
dinner was already set out.

Borne held Birkoff's chair for him, then started serving. Fish and 
vegetables made up the majority of the meal, along with a potent wine 
that Birkoff was careful only to sip at occasionally.

Dinner was a quiet, intimate affair. Borne talked about traveling the 
world. Birkoff talked about school. It was all lies, but the older man 
listened with a smile as he blathered on about friends he didn't have and 
classes he wasn't taking. Finally he trailed off into embarrassed silence.

"Sorry," he said. "I don't usually talk this much."

"Quite all right, Jeff. I enjoy listening. That's why I invited you here."

"It is? I thought..." Birkoff knew he was blushing.

"That too. Tell me. How much longer are you here for?"

Birkoff toyed with the food on his plate. "I leave tomorrow afternoon."

Borne frowned. "I wish I had known. I would have approached you sooner. 
Ah, well. We'll have to make what time we have count. Are you finished?"

Birkoff looked down at his half-empty plate. Might as well not delay, he 
thought, then pushed the plate back. Borne smiled at him, and stood, 
holding out his hand. Birkoff took it and followed him to the bedroom.

Borne was obviously well-practiced in the art of seduction. As Birkoff 
fidgeted, Borne stripped for the young man. The room was large and 
comfortable, wide windows open to the night breezes. Nude, he walked to 
stand in front of Birkoff, and started undoing the buttons of his shirt. 
Birkoff looked up into the intense blue eyes, chewing on his lower lip, 
uncertainly. Borne smiled.

"Relax, little one. I won't hurt you. Nothing but pleasure. I promise."

He leaned down to kiss Birkoff. The young man opened his mouth slightly, 
and made himself relax into the kiss. His hands came up, of their own 
will, to grasp the heavily-muscled biceps.

He was so distracted by the kiss, that his pants and underwear were down 
around his ankles before he realized what was happening. Borne stood back 
and waited for him to step out of them, then swung Birkoff up into his 
arms.

Birkoff flinched, even more aware of how large the other man was. If 
Borne wanted to have him, there wasn't much he would be able to do to 
fight off the big man. But he was gently laid down on the bed, and Borne 
stretched out next to him. One large leg swung over his, and the arms 
pulled him close. He could feel Borne's erection digging into his hip. A 
hand reached down to cup his own genitals, and Birkoff was a little 
surprised to find that he was already half-hard himself. The hand began 
to stroke him, expertly, until he was fully erect and leaking. He made a 
small whimper into the mouth covering his, and couldn't help thrusting 
into the hand that surrounded his cock.

The one thing he had worried about, going into this mission, was whether 
or not he'd be able to perform when the time came. Unlike a woman, a man 
couldn't fake arousal or orgasm. It looked like that wasn't going to be a 
problem. Borne was obviously very good at what he did.

Borne rolled onto his back, pulling Birkoff on top of himself as he went. 
The hands moved around to cup Birkoff's ass cheeks, kneading them, 
pulling them apart and pressing them together again. Birkoff was panting 
at the sensation. He arched as a finger ran up and down the cleft, 
teasing the nerves there. One of the hands disappeared, and Birkoff was 
dimly aware of it fumbling under a pillow. Then it was back, and the 
finger that probed was slippery with something cool and liquid.

A finger pressed home, and he gasped at the shock of pain as it went in. 
It was well-lubricated, but the finger was so large that it took a moment 
to adjust. Borne murmured soothing sounds as he waited for the muscles 
around his finger to relax. Once they had, he began a thrusting motion 
that soon had Birkoff pushing back onto the finger. A second one joined 
the first, and they hooked and probed until they found the young man's 
prostate.

Birkoff cried out, and started to writhe. Of all the things he had 
expected from this assignment, the pleasure he was experiencing wasn't 
one of them. The callused fingers continued to stretch him, rubbing 
against his prostate with each thrust, and he threw his head back and 
wailed, coming all over the other man's stomach.

The fingers slowed to a gently rhythm as he collapsed onto the large 
chest. Kisses were pressed onto his neck and cheek. "I told you," purred 
the voice. "Nothing but pleasure."

Birkoff didn't resist as he was rolled over onto the mattress. He was 
positioned on his stomach, and the fingers picked up the rhythm again. He 
was so relaxed that he barely noticed the addition of a third finger. 
Then they were gone, and he was pulled up onto his knees. Knowing what 
was coming next, he separated his legs, wide apart, and breathed deeply.

When the first press came, he was sure that it couldn't get in. Like the 
rest of him, Borne's cock was very large. The head felt like someone was 
trying to push a tennis ball into his ass. He pushed back with his anal 
muscles, as though he were trying to push the invader out. Instead, it 
seemed to lower the resistance, and the head of the cock slipped in. 
Birkoff hissed, and tried to move away.

"Relax," came the voice from behind him as one hand held him in place and 
the other reached to stroke his cock. "Wait a moment."

The hand on his cock was insistent, and he was hardening again. As his 
focus shifted, the pressure on his ass started to grow, as Borne pressed 
inward. Birkoff was panting, wondering if he would survive  the 
experience, when he felt the other man's balls press up against his ass. 
He held still, and considered how he felt.

He was stretched wider that he'd ever been before. Compared to this, 
Michael was tiny. He was going to be sore, but the preparations had been 
so careful and considerate that there wasn't any damage.

"Ready, little one?"

Birkoff nodded, and pressed back. Borne pulled back, long and slow, then 
pressed in again. He kept the thrust deep, and gradually picked up speed. 
Then he pulled out, and Birkoff gasped at the lost. Suddenly he felt 
hollow. He was flipped on his back, and Borne pressed his knees up to his 
chest, and plunged back in. This time there was no pain.

Borne maneuvered Birkoff's hips, until the young man cried out as his 
prostate was firmly rubbed. Borne held him in place, and started 
thrusting at the same angle. Birkoff's throat was growing sore from the 
cries he was making, and his brain was shutting down. Lights flashed 
behind his eyes, as the hand reached to stroke his cock again, and he 
orgasmed for the second time, more intensely than before. As he 
collapsed, boneless, he heard a roar above him, and Borne thrust hard, 
one last time. Warmth flooded his insides, and his vision went dark.

* * * * *

When Birkoff woke, a glance at the clock said that it was one in the 
morning. He got up and went to the washroom. While he had slept, someone 
had cleaned him up. He felt sore, but there was no pain. Going back into 
the bedroom, he picked up his jacket and pulled off the brooch with the 
drug-coated pin. Careful not to wake the man, he pressed it into Borne's 
neck. The man shifted, and swatted at the pin, like a man swatting an 
insect, then slipped deeper into sleep.

In a way, it was almost anti-climactic. Birkoff slipped through the 
hallways, back to the library. There, he found Borne's computer. With his 
skills, it didn't take long to get into the files, and download the ones 
that Section wanted. Then he slipped back into the bedroom, and hid the 
mini-disk in the lining of his jacket. He climbed back into bed, and was 
immediately pulled tight by the sleeping man.

He forced himself to relax, and finally fell asleep again, near dawn.

* * * * *

When he woke again, the sun was shining and the day was already growing 
hot.

"Finally! I thought I would have to wake you up to make sure you got to 
the airport in time."

Birkoff stretched, and smiled at Borne. The large man was standing next 
to the bed with an over-sized tray loaded with food. Still naked, he sat 
down, and pulled Birkoff into a deep kiss.

"Now you need to eat, to regain your strength."

The food was a mixture of breakfast and lunch, with fresh fruit and 
seafood, and bread still warm from the oven. Borne insisted on hand-
feeding him, and Birkoff shyly returned the favor. In a way, he felt bad 
about the deception. Borne might be an international arms dealer, but he 
had been kind and courteous towards Birkoff. Not to mention a very gentle 
lover. When breakfast was done, he took Birkoff to the bathroom where a 
large bath awaited. He bathed the young man, intimately, and coaxed two 
more orgasms from him, once with his hands and once with his mouth. He 
did not try intercourse again, Birkoff being too tender for that again so 
soon, but willingly let Birkoff make his first try as a cock-sucker.

He was too large for Birkoff to deep-throat, the way he had been, but he 
stroked and licked until the large man had bellowed, and spilled all over 
his hands. Birkoff had cautiously lapped at the fluid, and found it not 
overly unpleasant, though it was probably an acquired taste.

Then they dressed, and Borne called for his driver to take Birkoff back 
to his hotel. At the front door, he kissed him again. "Thank you, Jeff," 
he said, pressing a wrapped package into his hand. "I just wish we could 
have had a few more days. *And* nights. No," he said, as Birkoff tried to 
press the gift back. "I want you to have it. Open it when you get home."

Then he was gone.

* * * * *

The drive back to the hotel was quiet. Birkoff ignored the knowing smirk 
from the driver. He had just enough time to pack his bags and check out 
before the bus came to take the group to the airport. He ignored the 
smiles of some of the hotel employees, who had seen him leave with 
Borne's driver, Saturday afternoon. They'd probably seen it before.

The plane ride was uncomfortable, as he shifted, trying not to sit too 
firmly. When he got off the plane, he was met by Michael, who greeted him 
loudly, playing the role of older brother. Once they were in the car, he 
turned off the act, and twisted to look at Birkoff.

"Did you get it?"

Birkoff handed over the mini-disk, then leaned back and closed his eyes, 
ignoring the rest of the questions as they drove back to Section.

* * * * *

At Section, Birkoff was debriefed, then went to his room to unpack. The 
clothes mostly went into a pile to be returned to stores for the next 
time that someone his size needed them, not that there were many male 
Section agents his size.

The packages of souvenirs and gifts went on his desk, to be distributed 
later. It was a little strange. He'd never gone on a vacation before, 
even if it *was* really a mission in disguise. As part of his cover, he 
was expected to buy gifts for friends and family back home, but it seemed 
a little weird to give them out. He hoped everyone liked them.

That left one item. The present that Borne had given him. He held the 
heavy package, wondering if he should toss it. He wasn't sure that he 
wanted to open it. Finally, he just tossed it on the bedside table. He 
would decide later.

A knock on the door frame turned him around. "Walter!" he said, brightly.

"Hey, Birkoff. Just heard you were back. How did it go?" He could hear 
the tinge of worry in the older man's voice.

"It went fine," he said. "I got the information, and Borne never 
suspected." He knew it wasn't what Walter wanted to know. "I'm fine, 
Walter. He didn't hurt me. Here. I brought something back for you." He 
picked up one of he souvenirs from his desk. It was a bronze replica 
statue of a man at his forge.

"It's Hephaestus, god of the forge," he explained. "He made the lightning 
bolts for the king of the gods." An appropriate gift for the man that 
created most of Section's weapons, he had thought.

Walter turned the statue over in his hand, admiring the workmanship. 
"Thanks, kid. Listen," he said, looking up again. "If you need to talk. 
About anything..."

"I know, Walter. Thanks."

* * * * *

Birkoff was lying on his back in bed, staring up at the ceiling, when 
there was yet another knock at his door. Both Nikita and Madeline had 
been by to see him, after Walter had left, and he had been careful to 
reassure them both. Nikita often thought of him as a little brother, and 
he didn't want to worry her. Madeline's evaluation, though, was important 
on a more critical level. She reported her impressions to the people who 
made life-and-death decisions about him. He doubted that his normal act 
had fooled her, but she had seemed satisfied by what she found.

Still, he wasn't surprised to find Michael standing in the doorway 
watching him.

"Madeline thought I should stop by," the agent said, shutting the door, 
and locking it behind him. Birkoff rolled his eyes.

"I'll be *fine*."

"So Madeline says. But she thought I could help you be "fine" a little 
faster."

"No offense, but I don't want to be fucked again," Birkoff said bluntly. 
Michael gave a small smile, and started to strip.

"I didn't think you would," he said in a mild tone. Reaching into the 
pocket of his pants, before he discarded them, he retrieved a small tube 
and tossed it to Birkoff. "How would you like me?"

Birkoff stared at him, blankly. It took a moment for him to understand 
what Michael meant. When it hit him, he was embarrassed, but his cock 
leapt to attention.

"You... can't be... serious," he said, mouth gone dry.

"Very."

Birkoff flinched as Michael climbed on the bed and reached to undress 
him. So far, all he sexual experience with men had been on the receiving 
end, but Michael was right. He was feeling a little... used, and the 
chance to be the user for once...

When he was as nude as Michael, the other man sat back and waited for 
Birkoff to make up his mind.

"Stomach," Birkoff said, at barely a whisper.

Immediately, Michael stretched out, face down on the mattress. His head 
was pillowed on his arms and his legs were spread wide. Birkoff just sat 
looking at him for long moments.

In terms of physical fitness, Michael was a work of art. Not an ounce of 
unwanted fat could be found. Every muscle was clearly defined, but not 
bulked up to grotesque proportions, like a body builder. These muscles 
were long and lean, the body honed like a weapon. Compared to him, Borne 
had been almost chunky in his heavy musculature.

Birkoff opened the small tube and squeezed some of the lube onto his 
fingers. He pressed his fingers to the cleft of Michael's ass, and moved 
them back and forth until he found the tiny pucker there. It didn't seem 
large enough for what was going to be going in, but Birkoff reminded 
himself that *he* had been big enough for it. He pressed a finger in.

It was hotter and smoother than he had expected. He pressed the finger in 
deeper, licking his lip. For one horrible moment, he wondered what he 
might find, then told himself that Michael would have cleaned himself 
out, since he had been expecting this.

Remembering his own experiences, he probed until he found Michael's 
prostate. He rubbed at it lightly, and Michael gasped, breaking out in a 
sweat. Birkoff felt a smile spread across his face as Michael shifted 
under his fingers. The man wasn't in control, *he* was. The sense of 
power was overwhelming.

He tried two fingers, and found resistance, but it quickly faded. He 
continued to imitate the stretching motions that he had been on the 
receiving end of in the past. Once he had worked up to three fingers, and 
the anal opening was as relaxed as it seemed it was going to get, he 
withdrew his fingers and looked around.

Michael handed him the condom, regaining his senses quickly. Birkoff was 
a little disappointed at that. He quickly covered and lubricated his 
nearly painful erection. Then he straddled Michael, and guided himself 
into the opening that had already tightened up slightly.

The feeling was completely unlike anything he had felt before. Michael's 
ass gripped him like a fist, but hotter and far more encompassing than 
Birkoff's hand ever could. He groaned. He knew he was supposed to go 
slow, but he couldn't hold back. His hips thrust forward, of their own 
accord, and he heard Michael give a small cry of pain, something that he 
had never expected from the stoic agent.

"Sorry, sorry," he mumbled, but couldn't stop moving. His hips thrust 
forward, again and again. When he came, he saw sparks. It was completely 
different from anything he had experienced before. He collapse across 
Michael's back.

When he got his breath back, he pulled out of Michael, wincing as the 
flesh pulled at his now-sensitive cock. He pulled off the condom.

"Did... Did I hurt you?"

"Of course not," Michael replied, turning over. Birkoff was upset at 
himself when he realized that Michael hadn't come yet. He hadn't done 
anything for the other man.

"Wait," he said, as Michael started to stand up. "Lie down," he told the 
other man. Michael looked puzzled, but complied.

Birkoff took a deep breath, then went down on Michael. Above him, he 
could hear Michael telling him that he didn't have to do this, but he 
didn't stop. He tried everything that had seemed to please Borne, and was 
gratified when Michael stopped talking and started moaning.

Birkoff was a little surprised at how it made him felt. He always thought 
that this was a submissive thing to do, and Borne hadn't changed that. 
But Michael... Having Michael writhing against his sheets because of what 
*he* was doing gave Birkoff as sense of power unlike anything else. It 
was even more intoxicating that fucking the man.

He was so engrossed with the reactions, that he didn't notice Michael's 
attempts to warn him. The moment he realized that Michael had reached 
climax was when the cock in his mouth started pumping fluid. He choked 
for a moment, then started swallowing.

Definitely an acquired taste, but not bad.

* * * * *

When Michael left, Birkoff locked the door behind him. He wasn't in the 
mood for any more visitors that night. He crawled back into bed, ignoring 
the scent of sex in the air, and tried to get some sleep.

A few hours later, he pulled himself upright again. The package from 
Borne was still bothering him. Maybe it would be wiser to just toss it, 
unopened, but he couldn't help wondering what was in it. He had 
transferred to the drawer of his bedside table, earlier, and he pulled it 
out. It was long and narrow and very heavy for its size. Finally, he gave 
up and opened it. Inside was a velvet case, of the sort that comes from a 
jewelry store. He opened it up and found a necklace.

At first glance, it looked just like the heavy chain that he already wore 
around his neck. But this one was heavier, indicating a higher carat, and 
it glittered strangely. Birkoff picked it up and brought it closer to his 
eye. Embedded in the gold links were tiny chips of what looked like 
diamonds. The over-all effect was subtle, beautiful and very very 
expensive.

Birkoff went to stand in front of his mirror. He removed the necklace he 
wore and held the other one up to his neck. He stared at his reflection 
for long moments.

Then he put the necklace back in its case and slid the case into the top 
drawer of his dresser. He put his old chain back around his neck and 
climbed into bed again.

This time, he fell asleep almost immediately.

THE END