Close Call

TITLE: Close Call

AUTHOR: Midknight

CHAPTER: 1 of 1

FANDOM: Burn Notice

SHIP: Michael / Fiona

RATING: NC-17

CATEGORY: Romance and Erotica

SPOILERS: Season Two, Episode 11

SYNOPSIS: WARNING: HERE BE SPOILERS - SEASON 2, EPISODE 11. What happened after Michael found Fiona alive and well in his apartment after thinking she had died.

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Burn Notice. None of these characters belong to me. They belong to their creators and the people who bring them to life. I pay homage to them and I make no profit from this story in any fashion, way or means.

AUTHORS NOTE: I apologize before hand and hope you will forgive any errors or blatant discrepancies.

FEEDBACK: Yes Please. It helps. It really, really helps. midknight_tales@yahoo.com

CHAPTER ONE

The life expectancy of a covert operative is relatively short, dictated by the nature of the business. Only the best survive and then eventually the best will be pitted against the best. And, then, there is just blind, random misfortune. People die, associates, contacts, assets, friends, it is part of the job, but that doesn't make it any easier to deal with when it happens... or even nearly happens.

Michael didn't even know when it had started raining, didn't care, but it was somehow fitting. The usually bright Miami night sky was dark and leaden with clouds and rain pelted down on him as he got out of his car. He called again and again and it went straight to voicemail for the how many-eth time he doesn't know. There was a cold knot, slowly twisting and tightening in his stomach. He'd watched the house burn to the ground, unable to do anything, but watch. No one inside it could have possibly survived, but still he kept calling. The rain soaked his clothes and drenched his hair and skin as he trudged up the stairs to his apartment. A single thought clamored and clawed at his consciousness, trying to make itself heard, but he denied it, denied it with every fiber of his being and every ounce of will he could muster.

He numbly fished his keys out of his pocket and into the door lock. He rested his hand on the jagged bricks and mortar that were the remains of his old doorframe after the blast that had nearly claimed his life. "If I had died then, then maybe..." he thought and then mercilessly squashed the thought before he could finish it. It seemed to take him forever to fit the key in the lock and open the door. He closed the door behind him and leaned his forehead against the cold steel. His fist thumped into the metal and he closed his eyes trying to sooth the hot, scratchy feeling. "Fiona was..." the thought tried to make itself heard one more time and he almost, almost let it and then her lilting Irish voice was telling him he should get a land line at his apartment.

Michael lifted his head slowly and then turned it to find Fiona sitting at the counter in his kitchen. He approached her slowly. She had her trademark, quirked smile on her face, hazel eyes flashing with amusement as she told him that his bomber had turned his house into firetrap and that she'd had to wait for a window to blow out in order to make her escape. The heat had ruined her cell phone and she held up the melted device as proof. Her voice was light, amused and typically dismissive of the event and the danger she had faced. He wanted to yell at her for her rashness, but he is not quite ready to believe she was real before he could verify it. He wanted too badly for her to be. She looked real and she sounded real, but she looked and sounded exactly as he would expect her to look and sound, the way he needed her to look and sound. His chest was heaving as he stopped in front of her. "Please, let her be real." He begged, not sure he could come back from losing her and his mind in such a short space of time.

He searched her eyes, her large clear, hazel eyes that he could never really forgotten even during all the time they were apart. Realization widened her eyes and dampened her smile as they stared at each other in silence. Michael reached out and lightly placed his hand on her face, the skin of her cheek smooth and warm under his palm, her hair soft under his fingers and she doesn't disappear. The breath he doesn't know he was holding shuddered out of his lungs as he rested his forehead lightly on hers. "Michael, You didn't think..." she started, but he silenced her by cupping her other cheek and tilting her face up to meet his lips.

She tasted like cherries and smoke and he finally allowed himself to truly believe she was real, alive and in his arms. He deepened the kiss and she kissed him back, her leg curling around his, a light caress on the back of his calf, warm through the wet denim of his jeans. Her hands dragged his t-shirt out of his jeans, her fingers hot where they touched his skin. They broke their kiss as she pulled his sopping t-shirt off over his head. Her hands warmed his wet skin as he lifted her off the stool she was sitting on and onto the edge of the counter. She lifted her arms and he lifted her top off over her head, finding her sans bra, her breasts jiggling ever so slightly in invitation as they settled along with her wealth of straight, dark hair. He tossed her shirt and plundered her lips once more before he accepted the invitation. She arched her back over the arm he had wrapped around the small of her back as he buried his face into the shadowy valley of her cleavage, inhaling deeply, enjoying the familiar scent of vanilla and suntan oil before he captured one breast with his hand and the other with his mouth.

Her felt her brown nipples harden and grow against his fingers and tongue as he used both to roll and flick them, making her murmur her appreciation and enjoyment of his tender ministrations. Water from his hair fell onto her skin and he tracked and lapped up the stray droplets. He shifted enough for her to worm a slender arm between them and reach for his belt, which she tugged roughly until it came free. Her other hand remained splayed out on the counter surface, supporting some of her weight, but mostly to brace herself and press her tit flesh into his hungry mouth.

He groaned against her firm flesh when the button and zipper of his jeans surrendered to Fiona's dexterous fingers and those magic digits found their way into his pants and boxers to wrap around his throbbing erection. Fiona stroked him slowly, gently, but firmly while he explored her breasts with his lips and tongue and hand, reacquainting himself with exactly what made her make which noise of delight. His sounds of enjoyment joined hers as she slowly skimmed her fist up and down his length, the sweet friction making his butt clench and his dick throb against her grip. Michael doesn't quite make a sound of disappointment when her warm hand left his shaft, but it was close. He shifted the position of his arm around her, sliding his hand up her smooth back to splay his hand between her shoulder blades and support her weight as she lifted her hand.

Her intensions became clear as she slid both hands around his waist and dipped them under the waistband of his jeans. The wet denim stubbornly clung to his skin and resisted her attempts to push his jeans down, but Fiona was nothing if not persistent and eventually with effort, they surrendered and his boxers followed shortly after. He reluctantly let go of her breast and ran his hand down her taut, slightly quivering belly to fumble blindly at the snaps of her slacks. He is still too wrapped up in the feel of her body against his and the taste of her on his lips that it is pure chance that he actually undoes her pants. She returned her hand to the counter top and hooked the other around his neck and using that leverage she is able to lift her ass for him to hastily drag her pants and panties off. He had to create some separation between them in order to get them all the way down, so he does so as quickly as possible, sending her shoes flying in the process and finally she is naked before him.

They were both breathing hard as he laid his hands on the tops of her thighs; her skin was warm with life and smooth against his as he lightly tested the firm muscles underneath. He let his eyes rove over her body, feasting on her beauty. Familiarity definitely had not bred contempt between him and Fiona. He has seen her naked more times than he could count, but each time he is filled with awe at her magnificence. "God, she's beautiful." he thought and his dick twitched against his belly in agreement. She isn't perfect, there are scars and blemishes that are unavoidable in their line of work, he has them too, but they do not detract from her, they add to her, make her real. He knows most of the stories associated with them; hell he's even responsible for one or two of them. He finds her face and her eyes hold his, her face smooth and passive. The pink tip of her tongue peeked out and then vanished before her lips slowly curved into a smile as she tilted her head.

"I'm real, Michael. I'm here and safe. No harm, no foul." She informed him in a low sultry tone. "Say it" she instructed firmly. "You're real. You're here. You're safe." He obliged, finally acknowledging the relief those words brought. "You're not getting rid of me that easily. Now... Come here." She commanded, angling herself slight to relax back onto the counter and held her hands out to him. Michael closed his eyes for a moment and let go of the last of his fear. Logically he knew it could happen, knowing Fiona it was almost inevitable, but it hadn't been today, not today. He opened his eyes and let his hands slide up her body as he stepped between her long, shapely legs and felt them curl around him.

Fiona captured his hands and guided them to her breasts, which he fondled, squeezed and weighed, testing the resistance and pliability of her firm globes before he took the hard little tubes of her nipples between his thumb and finger. He rolled them, pinched them gently before stretching them, eliciting a drawn out, hissed sigh from her. Her folds were slick with sex grease, heat radiating from her as he pressed his curved length against them. Her swollen petals were a warm, slippery embrace as he rocked his hips, rubbing himself through them. She jerked, going tense for a moment, her hands clutching his over her breasts, her breath hitching with a gasped moan when he brushed across her clit. He did it again just to see the reaction again.

She let go of his hand and her strong, slender fingers wrapped around his shaft and he flexed his knees as she guided him lower and slid the tip of his dick through her folds to seat him at her entrance. With, a final tweak to her nipples he slid his hands down to grasp her hips while one of her hands gripped the edge of the counter. They stayed poised like that for a moment, eyes locked, the only sound that of their breathing and then he thrust forward. Her eyes widen slightly, her lips parted and she inhaled sharply as her flesh reluctantly parted, resistant and inviting at the same time. Liquid heat and pressure surround him as her flesh slid around his shaft with fiery friction until their bodies met and they were one. Michael leaned forward and her head rose slightly to meet his lips and they kissed slowly, but deeply. Her legs tightened around him, shifting higher above his hips, drawing him just that little bit closer, just that little bit deeper into her flexing, squeezing molten core.

Fiona's breasts flattened against his chest, the hard points of her nipples scraping along his skin as she undulated beneath him while he started to rock his hips, sliding back and forth inside her. Her legs tensed and relaxed, her heels sliding on and pressing into his back in unison with his movements. Michael nipped and sucked at her full lower lip, holding onto it and stretching it a little as her head settled back onto the counter. He lets go and nibbled along her jaw before kissing the strong column of her neck and she murmured her approval as he increased the length of his strokes. Her hand was warm and insistent on his neck, her fingers weaving into his hair, cupping his head and pressed his lips to her skin as he pierced her core again and again and again. They praised and encouraged each other with words and then sounds of delight and enjoyment. The exquisite caress of her sex sliding snugly along his length sent snaking charges of pleasure up his spine.

Her moans, graduated to gasps and those became soft little cries that punctuated his heavy exhalations and strained grunts as they writhed and thrust and humped, moving apart and becoming one over and over again as they revel in pleasure and strive for their release. Her head thrashed from side to side, her hair whipped into a dark swirling halo that brushed and tickled his skin as he hovered above her. His ass stayed clenched, relaxing less and less as his pace increased. He felt his balls tighten and lift, churning with the desire for release and he gritted his teeth, his jaw clenching until he can feel the quivers running through her belly where it is pressed against his, a telltale that she was as close as he was. He ran his hand down along her flank, caressing her ass and her thigh before retracing its path to cup her breast and fondled it firmly.

Their rhythm started to falter, and they grind more than thrust, his skin felt like it was on fire and he was almost surprised that the water and now sweat that clung and trickled along his skin doesn't change to steam. His legs are trembling with the strain and exertion of trying to be one with her, trying to re-affirm life, celebrate her and it and what they had. Despite the frenzied urgency of need, the question rose. "What did they have?" he asked himself. "They had a past, yet they really did love each other, they always had, but were they good for each other? Was the time ever going to be right for them or would what he feared today become a reality for either of them before that happened?" more questions assailed him without answers. "Oh, Fee!" he breathed heavily, not knowing exactly what he meant by it, but realizing that he needed her.

Her quivers turn to tremors and her legs didn't slacken when he pulled back. Her tanned skin almost glowed and her wide, clear eyes sparkled. Her straight white teeth pin her lower lip for a moment before her face angled away from his as her back began arch in jerky increments. Her nails dug into his scalp and a loud, sharp cry from her echoed in the dimly lit loft as he slammed into her one last time and she shuddered under him, her sex locking and squeezing his shaft even as he tried to drive even deeper into her. Like everything else about her, her climax was spectacular and he tried to keep his eyes open to enjoy the spectacle, but her rippling, powerfully clutching sex pushed him over the edge and he straightened, threw his head back and bellowed his release to the ceiling.

His hips pumped with each squirting pulse of his ejaculation as he poured himself into the furnace of her sex, joining his essence with hers and stars danced in front of his eyes as his chest heaved with the need to draw in air. His blood pounded in his ears and his nerves sang with electric sparks, making his muscles twitch and misfire as he rode out his climax with hers. He collapsed forward, drained and just barely caught himself on his forearms, but still rested his cheek on her shakily rising and falling breasts. He pressed his lips to her skin as she lightly rested her hand on his head. Her sex occasionally fluttered around him in an enjoyable massage that made him twitch in response.

"Well, that was something." She commented softly, stroking his hair. "Yes, it was." He agreed, raising his head as his strength returned and he started to shrink out of her. "Fee, could you do me a favor?" he asked, finding her eyes with his. "After that, anything." She told him. "Don't do that again, please?" he requested. "Don't do what again? This?" she tightened her legs and her sex around him, stopping his retreat and making him groan, "or this?" she continued kissing him hungrily. "No... No... Those are all good, really good." He admitted when she let him up for air. "No... I need you not to scare me like that again, ever." He explained. "I don't know if I could stand another close call." He clarified.

He saw the playfulness fade from her features. "You really did think I was...?" she queried, but he nodded before she could finish the sentence. "I can't promise, Michael... It's a dangerous world out there and we're not exactly bible salesman, but I'll try... I really will." She conceded, her voice sincere and her eyes serious. He realized it was most likely the best he could hope for. They had so many issues to talk through, but this was not the time. "Okay." He acknowledged and her lips curved into a smile that matched his. "Now... Take me to bed, this counter isn't exactly warm or all that comfortable." She commanded and he does.

THE END