Title: Avana Hold Your Hand

Author/Pseusonym: Tinnean

Fandom: La Femme Nikita

Pairing: Walter/f

Rating: NC-17

Status: New/Complete

Archive: yes, just let me know

Series/sequel: no

Disclaimers: LFN is owned by WB, USA and Fireworks, and a bad pox on them for what they're doing! However, Avana and another character mentioned in passing are mine.

Notes: I wrote this for a friend who likes Walter and feels he doesn't get enough

Summary: Walter gets to show a valentine op that he still has what it takes

Warning: m/f, AU

by Tinnean

Walter stalked through the corridors of Section One, glowering at anyone who crossed paths with him. Restlessly he caressed the blue-black barrel of the Mauser 4x4 nine mm handgun that was clutched in his hand. Operatives who saw him coming suddenly remembered other places where they needed to be like two minutes ago.

He was irritable.

He was edgy.

He was...

He was horny as hell is what he was!

It had been a long time since he had had sex. He couldn't count that brief fling with the profiler Valerie. She had been so intent on playing him and Birkoff against each other that he'd quickly lost all desire to see how far he could go with her.

Face it, Walt old man, he said to himself: the best sex you've had in ages was when Operations pushed you into retirement!

And he sighed deeply and continued on his way to his quarters.

His quarters were housed in the part of Section One set aside for all its senior operatives. The rooms provided were fairly large and well lit, considering all the lighting was fluorescent. Section didn't really want to encourage its operatives to stay on site after a mission; no reason was seen to expend more resources than was absolutely necessary to insure its people were moderately comfortable.

Unless, of course, like Birkoff, the operative was so severely agoraphobic; in which case Section would allot them a modest stipend to furnish their permanent home. The key word being modest.

Walter was passing Birkoff's quarters when he heard muted laughter through the door, and he paused.

Birkoff had company. And of the female persuasion. From the sound of it, they were having a very good time.

Well, shoot! Even a computer geek like Seymour was getting laid! Walter thought glumly. As much as he had come to value the younger man's friendship, he couldn't prevent a fleeting stab of jealously.

Everyone in Section was getting laid! Operations was holed up with his favorite operative; Michael and Nikita were off somewhere gazing soulfully into each other's eyes; Madeline was surfing the net for sites that put up what was called slash fiction; and even Birkoff had a warm body to snuggle up to!

Why was it that he, the best lover in all of Section One, if he modestly said so himself, was all alone? He looked sorrowfully at the hand that was still stroking his gun. "Looks like it's you and me kid!" he murmured to it as he let himself into his quarters.

"Hi, sveetie!" a sultry voice came from the futon that occupied the center of the room.

Walter stopped dead in his tracks. "Uhhh, I am in the right rooms, aren't I?"

"You betcha, sveet cheeks!"

Walter felt a deep flush color his face. "Avana!"

"Vhy you surprised to see me dahlink? I promise to come back and see you some time, no?"

"No! I mean, yes, you promised, but I thought you were just telling me what I wanted to hear. I thought you had a thing for Operations!"

"Dahlink, his little sparrow tell me she rip my head off and piss down my neck I make a move on him. You think my mama raise stupid children?"

The valentine op on his futon was an exotic known as Avana Bealone. She had figured largely, a few months back, in a mission to derail a Middle Eastern terrorist, and had made no secret of the fact that Operations could have her by the merely lifting of his imperious eyebrow. But the assassin Operations had chosen to fill his bed was not quite the nonentity everyone thought. She was dangerous enough to titillate the head of One, and tough enough to intimidate the auburn-haired valentine op.

Avana decided she'd have better luck, and a longer life span by spending her down time with the senior weapons operative. He had enough status that no one would think less of her for not having bedded Operations.

Walter noted she was wearing the red silk dress that looked as if it had been spray-painted on her luscious curves. And his hands itched to ease it up over those curves.

"This isn't the best of times for you to be here, sweet thing," Walter told her, trying to do the gentlemanly thing.

"Vhy not dahlink? You think I don' know you vant to fuck me blind?" She rose languidly to her feet, her hands reaching up to cup her breasts.

Walter could see she was unencumbered by undergarments: her nipples jutted impudently toward him, as if begging for his mouth, and no unsightly panty line marred the flow of that wicked dress.

"Come, sveetie, let me show you I see error of my vays. Older men make best lovers!"

Walter threw the deadbolt on his door. As if in a trance he walked slowly toward the valentine op. Her deep blue eyes glittered feverishly, and the corner of his mouth kicked up in a grin.

It seemed he wasn't the only one who needed to get laid!

Walter might be one of the older surviving members of the Section team, but he was nobody's fool. The sultry valentine operative who stood before him, fondling her breasts, pinching her nipples to pinpoint hardness, might have a hidden agenda, but then, so did Walter.

And it was amazingly simple: he wanted her out of that red dress and he wanted her on that futon. Or on his bed. Or on the floor, against the wall, any other way he could get his almost painful erection into her.

Eyes closed, a tiny smile on her lips, Avana was lost in a world of her own, one in which it was Operations who stood before her watching as she stroked her body. While one hand continued toying with her breasts, the other skimmed her waist and abdomen and began to caress the treasure between her thighs

A strangled gasp parted Walter's lips and his hands went to the buttons fastening the front of his jeans. The material separated and his turgid flesh sprang free, straining toward the valentine op as if she was his last hope of heaven.

One long stride and the fringe that decorated the front of his western shirt was brushing against her nipples, something she had not anticipated. Not wanting to take the time to finish undressing, Walter crowded her back against the wall, his fingers clutching the hem of that short red dress. The silk whispered up her firm thighs and then the lush thicket of auburn curls shielding her femininity was revealed.

Walter sucked in his breath. His strong arms hooked under her knees and he raised her up high, then let her slide slowly down to envelope his fiercely aroused cock. Her ankles locked behind his back. He braced his hands beside her head and held himself still for one long, delicious moment.

Tantalizing them both, he forced himself not to move, reveling in her heat and her moist readiness, and in his almost frenzied need to fuck her senseless. It might be Operations who was in her mind, but it was Walter in her body.

With a slow glide he began the rhythm older than time, rocking Avana, taking her on a journey to the outer reaches of reality. He licked his lips and rubbed them lightly against hers, gently forcing them to admit him into her mouth. The tip of his tongue advanced and lapped at the tip of her tongue. Then he retreated, teasing her to come follow.

Her tongue plunged into his mouth, frantically mimicking the movements of their lower bodies. Walter ripped at the snaps that held his shirt closed, preventing him from feeling Avana's nipples more fully. He pushed the silk of her dress high above her breasts and moved her torso against the soft hair that covered his chest, sending waves of heat arrowing to the spot hidden by her folds.

His long fingers traced down her body and discovered that spot and began tormenting it, pinching it, stroking it, driving her to mindless heights.

Avana's blue eyes flew open and she pulled her mouth from Walter's, desperately gasping for much-needed oxygen. "Valter! Oh my God, Valter! More! Give me more!"

And Walter, only too happy to oblige, pistoned his hips faster and faster until he could feel her inner muscles clench and spasm. Then he loosed his iron control and began to come deep inside her, measuring his length in her again and again, until spent, he collapsed against her.

Struggling to catch his breath, Walter couldn't resist remarking, "Not ... so bad ... for an old ... guy, huh, sweet thing? You think... Operations ... would have ... given you such... a climax?"

Avana slowly raised eyes that were faintly dazed. "Who?"

End