A/N: Okay guys, play nice. I know I was supposed to update B.E.L. today but I'm sure this will satisfy readers new and old. This is my first M fic, so all the more reason to play nice but I will appreciate any criticism.

Inspiration for this fic came for the Justin Timberlake song Sexyback. If you've seen the music video, you know where I am coming from.

Enjoy ;)

-Millie

"An emotionally compromised agent is more dangerous than a jammed gun."

Let's Misbehave

A Nikita Fanfiction By Millie55

"Водка. Двухместный. Один породы. (Vodka. Double. On the rocks.)" The words of the lean, Russian blond were as smooth as the liquor she was served as she waited under the dim lighting of the bar. She needed her drink strong as she remained seated in the location of the arranged rendezvous. For months she and an American tourist had been meeting for a good time. It would now be the last. The man was not who he said he was. He was Division, head of operations. Michael Bishop. The enemy.

Burning down her throat traveled the cold, clear liquor in two steady shots. Getting through the night was already proving to be difficult. The mere thought of killing her lover making her uneasy. "Другой. (Another.)" She ordered as the glass met it's coaster, the ice rattling on impact. The empty glass was traded for another that was soon drained as quickly as the first. It was far from courage in a bottle, but there was no way she was getting through the night sober.

The hard eyes of a trained assassin scanned the darkness of the bar, searching for one familiar face. She sat on the same stool as she had always had. The stood where they had first met and drank a little too much. It had become a regular meeting place between the tourist and the elementary school teacher. It was the location at which lies were spoken and thrived on. Tonight they would end.

Stepping from the shadows, Michael moved towards the bar. Towards the blond who awaited his arrival. She had had claimed to be a school teacher, Katherine. Everything added up until her face was picked up on the video camera leaving his hotel room. Computer nerd Seymour Birkhoff ran it through facial recognition back at headquarters only to find she too had been lying. She was Gogol. Katia Romanov. The enemy.

"Скотч с содовой. (Scotch and Soda.)" The rough voice of an American drew Katia's attention from the melting ice in her glass and to the man on her left. Michael. A small smile spread on her lips, she could not let what was not her cover fail her before she got the chance to finish the job. As rude as it was to taunt your prey, it needed to be done.

"I remember vhen I had to order t'at drink for you," She sounded her accent strong and playful. Michael had translated with a English-Russian dictionary to order drinks when they first crossed paths. She now believed it to be a successful attempt to pick women at the bar. She had aided him in ordering throughout the night before drinking one too many herself and ending up in his hotel suit. "You have improved very much Michael."

"I had a good teacher," Michael sent a charming smirk over to the woman before sipping his drink. It was as weak as his knees as he caught sight of the little black dress the cut a little too on Katia's bust and rose a little too high on her thigh. It left very little up to the imagination. Clearing his throat, Michael tugged at the collar of his crisp button down shirt. She was wearing the dress for him.

Katia smiled down at her glass, watching the ice melt slowly. Why did her have to be so charming? He had always managed to make her feel special with a casual conversation and a quick hookup. Their relationship never moved any further than that. Did it even qualify as a relationship? If anything it was a mutual agreement to have a good time. Flipping her hair over her shoulder casually, Katia turned to take in the sight of the Division Agent. He made her feel underdressed as her wore a crisp back suit, complete with a tie and dress shoes. Heels clicking against the floor Katia stood, her form melting into Michael's space casually. Fingers sliding under his collar Katia tugged his tie loose and lifted it from his neck. As she tucked it in his interior pocket her spotted his gun tucked into his pants just behind his hip for easy access. She did not draw attention to it; instead she undoes the top two buttons of his shirt giving him a more relaxed appearance. "Better?" Katia sounded her voice a gentle purr as her bright eyes met his dark.

Michael looked down over the blond. He could practically feel the warmth of her skin radiating against his due to their stance that was almost too close for comfort. "Much better," He assured his voice smoky smooth as he placed his hand at the small of her back. It moved in a slow, soothing circle along her lower back in search of a concealed weapon but did not find a blade. He didn't know why he bothered to check, an agent with her level of training would put is somewhere a simple touch would not disturb. Taking a step closer to the enemy agent Michael pressed her into the bar gently. His neck craned down to her ear and whispered out; "How about we head back to my hotel room?" He didn't wait for a response.

The grip on her hand was tight, almost too tight. Michael led her out into the hotel lobby and towards the elevator. His actions were forceful, pulling her into the elevator and shutting the doors behind them before they could be joined.

"Someone is impatient," Katia smirked as her fingers slipped from his grasp and gripped the rails in the elevator travelling up. She had him trapped in the corner, edging closer to his tall stature with each floor that passed. "You almost dislocated my shoulder," her words escaped her lips in a laugh before they found the skin that was exposed along his collarbone and kissed it slowly. If she was going to kill him, she was going to have a little fun first.

"Kate," Michael choked out as her hot lips met his flesh. Killing her needed to be quick; there was no time for screwing around. "We're almost to the room. It'll be worth the wait." A dark smile crept over his lips as he looked down over the shorter woman. The elevator chimed as it reached his floor but the couple did not move from their spot.

Her eyes remaining on Michael's, Katia fingers slipped into his coat pocket and pulled out the key card. "Vell, don't keep me vaiting too long," Her words were playfully as she turned her back on him and made her way to the room. Nothing but the desire the young woman seemed to carry for Michael was all left with him in the elevator. He had no idea what he was about to walk into.

The hotel room door was left open a crack allowing him to enter. Katia was nowhere in sight. Closing the door behind him, he drew his glock from its place between his belt and his hip. "Katherine baby, I'd rather not be kept waiting," He spoke to mask the click of a bullet loading into the chamber.

"How bad do you vant me?" Katia sounded from the next room. Pushing up the hem of her tight dress her blade became visible, it had been held to her thigh by it's this sheath. Silently, the blade left the sheath's hold and warmed In Katia's grasp. One more word from his lips and she would know exactly where he was. Then she would throw. The risk of firing a gun in the hotel was to great, a knife would allow her to get the job done with the only sound being his body hitting the floor.

"You have no idea," Michael answered as her positioned himself in the archway, gun raised and ready to fire. His finger itched for the trigger, waiting for the Russian spy to appear in the doorway. When she did his finger pressed down but no bullet fired. The gun had jammed. His face melted in an unimpressed expression. It was supposed to be over with a single shot. Now he had to resort to using other methods. Katia foot met his wrist in one swift movement, knocking the gun from his grasp before she lunged for him, blade first. He caught her with ease, her movements predictable to him after spending so much time in her company. His hands were rough around her thin wrist, gasping it hard. "Drop the knife. Now."

"You vere going to shoot me," Katia bit out as the knife slipped between her fingers.

"It jammed," Michael defended.

"You didn't hesitate," She sounded again, her words appearing pained. A gentle grunt followed as she struggled to get out of his grasp. "I know everyt'ing. Are you going to tell me t'at you're just following orders?" she patronized, "I'm sorry to disappoint Michael, but I'm not going to roll over and play dead." Her elbow hit him sharp in the abdomen and his grip on her released. Dropping to her knees Katia scrambled for knife only to have Michael's fingers dig into her hips, pulling her back into him.

"You are making this very difficult Katia." Michael spoke as he picked her up in his strong arms. Nose to nose they became, eyes scanning over the other's features. The contrasting couple wore similar expressions, both hard with determination to complete their mission, yet scared. Michael gripped her hips, holding her against him. His dark hazel eyes one did leave her eyes as he threw her body away from his. The primal need to have her body close to his was aggravating. He needed to kill her, not just to complete the mission but to also prove that he could. He wouldn't let feels get in the way anymore.

Crashing into the wall was Katia's body, the dry wall crumbling under her weight and the force at which she was thrown. Blond waves of hair created a curtain over her smooth features as she looked up through her thick black lashes and up at Michael. She sat, unmoving on the table that had remained to stand under her weight. Beside her sat a vase of fake flowers. Her hand inched towards the gleaming glass before gripping it tight before throwing it at Michael who had moved for his gun. It may have been jammed, but it was a quick fix for assassins alike. The glass shattered against his broad shoulder, it's shards littering the floor around him.

"That wasn't very nice was it?" Michael spoke as he grasped his gun and moved to make the needed adjustments. This shot would fire. Katia would die.

"Neit'er is t'is," Katia spoke out before her fist impacted his jaw in a sharp hook. Shaking her hand, she stepped closer to Michael placing her free hand on his strong chest. She tried to forget the feeling of his strong heart beat beneath her palm as she shoved him back. Watching as he stumbled she moved for her knife a third time. Its cold steel met her hand and she prepared to throw only to be fought to the ground. Her shoulders ground into the fragments of glass. The shards cut through her skin, earning a whimper from her lips. Michael fought to take the blade from his hands, earning a cut to his hand before becoming successful. The tables turned in an instant with Michael pinning Katia to the ground, her own blade one swift movement from slicing into her throat.

"Do it," Katia spoke as her icy eyes met his warm. She didn't fight him. One wrong move and the nicked artery would be her fault. Maybe pressuring him into the kill would cause him to back down. "One cut and it's over. Do it."

Michael looked down over Katia. He had her in this position many times before, but she was not begging for death then. Knuckles growing white, Michael gripped the blade tighter preparing to press the cold metal into her sweet flesh. One cut and it's over. The tip of the blade penetrated through the thin layer of flesh but he failed to drag the blade across and finish the job. She remained alive beneath him as her dropped the blade to the ground beside her head. With every inhale she took, the exhale sweet with alcohol washed over his face. It pulled him in closer, the primal need for his flesh against hers returning along with the want to taste the vodka off her tongue.

Keeping Katia pinned against the floor littered with shattered glass Michael's mouth moved down onto hers. His lips were as warm as the scotch he ingested at the bar; fueling the forceful kiss Katia found herself returning. The roughness of his stubble met the smooth skin as the kiss grew sloppy with lust.

"Michael," Kate muttered against his lips in attempt to comprehend what was going on. She wasn't dead, if anything she felt more alive than ever. Her skin tore against the glass as she squirmed in attempt to free herself from his tight grasp. He didn't give. Instead one hand remained wrapped around her wrist, while the other frisked her lean frame for more weapons. Slowly his finger tips outlines the figure of her torso, earning a shiver as his palm grazed her bust. They then traveled the smooth skin of her thigh, discarding the sheath from the sensitive skin. "Mich-"

"Shh." He hushed her as his hand cupped her jaw, "It'll be worth the wait." He then returned to the kiss, his teeth grazing her lips before forcing his tongue between them. The moist muscle wrapped around Katia's in a snake like motion, tasking the sweetness of her saliva and the weak taste of vodka. Katia's tongue fought against his for dominance but lost the struggle each time. A small smirk spread over her lips before her teeth nipped his tongue. It was hard enough to bring pain, but not hard enough to draw blood. A gentle groan escaped Michael's lips as he pulled back, looking over her feature. Remaining still and silent an unspoken mutual agreement was made. No one would die.

Sitting up slowly, Michael pulled Katia with him. His hands brushed the glass from her back opening the wounds up to bleed. Hissing from the pain, Katia rested her forehead on his. Finding the zipper of her dress, he slid it down with ease before peeling it from her body. Only now did the scars stand out on her flesh, some bright pink and other fading and a pale white. He needed to leave his own impression. Knotted his fingers in her blond waves Michael pulled her head to the side before burring his face in her neck's crook. Hot breath washed over her skin, his lips moving over her neck in a series of kisses. His teeth followed after, each nip growing closer to a bite with each occurrence. Soon, his teeth penetrated through the sensitive skin drawing blood to the surface. Michael then returned to kissing the wound, tasting the metallic flavor that was blood.

The pain only brought pleasure. Katia's hands gripped Michael's skirt, pulling their bodies closer together as she freed the buttons from the clasps. Under her fingertips, his toned torso was smooth. She memorized every muscle before raking her nails down over his chest. Left behind were trails on red set a fire by the desire of having her close. Travel back up his chest, Katia found his shoulders and peeled his dress shirt from his arms. Michael's digits encroached up her thigh, seeking the thin lace that remained around her hips. His hands however were stopped in their tracks by Katia's gentle touch. "You're still a bit over dressed."

A small smirk played on Michael's lips as he held up hands up in surrender. "We can't have that can we?"

"No ve can't," Katia smirked as she got off his lap and kneeled in front of him where the ground was free of glass. Michael stood in front of her and watched was her nimble fingers pulled his belt from its loops and dropped it to the ground. His pants followed soon after along with the teasing on her lips. Fluttering kisses traveled over his thighs. It only caused his impatience to grow.

"Come here," He ordered as he kicked off his pants and shoes. She moved to stand and was in his hold in an instant. His well worked hands lifted her up, and her legs found their place around his waist. The bedroom was their destination, but would they make it there? They met at the lips, thriving off the skin on skin contact as Michael moved for the doorway to the bedroom. Avoiding the bloody glass, they reached the dark sleeping quarters.

They were feet from the bed when Michael stopped in his tracks, a mischievous smile on his lips. Katia loved when he smiled, he could literally light up a room but now it made her giddy. He was planning something. Before she could question him on it, she was thrown into the air once again and came crashing down on the lush mattress. She almost laughed. He loved how he was being with her. It was different from before. They were different from before. There were no more lies. Just two spies craving the release of tension with the aid of the other.

"You can do better t'en t'at," The words escaped her lips playfully as she moved into a sitting position on the bed.

Michael quirked up a brow as he approached her. Raising his hand, he sent a slap across her face. It stung deep into her cheek yet earned a pleasured moan from her lips. She could take anything he dished out and it only made him want her more.

Climbing onto the bed, Michael pinned her to the mattress and pressed his form against hers. His kiss was rough and needy as he kept her in place. One hand holding down her wrists as the other found the sweet spot between her legs. He heard her breath hitch at the contact through the final barrier that was the thin fabric of her intimates.

Katia's lips parted against Michael's letting out a moan at his tongue in. Wrapping her legs around Michael's waist, she drew him in closer. The need they carried was magnetic, but they fought it back. It would be worth the wait.

As the Russian's body arced to press her core against the American's fingers, he released her wrists and freed her breasts from the restraint that was her bra. Leaving her lips, his mouth travelled to the orbs of flesh. His hot tongue greeted them, sending shiver coursing through her body. Nipping and nuzzling at the sensitive skin Michael peels the last article from her body and down her long legs. Katia's fingers traced over his hips as she freed him from his boxer-briefs. There were no more restrain. No more holding back.

Spreading her bent legs almost forcefully, Michael placed himself between them. His rough hands went to her hips, lifting them from the mattress before moving into her. He watched at her expression melted into the same ecstasy that he wore on his own before her began to move against her. Sweat traveled down their bodies as result of hips rolling against hips, and lips smacking. Skin glided and burned at the friction between the couple. Finger knitted in hair, tugging to earn a moan. Nails dug into flesh to earn a hiss. Sheets were dirtied with the product of pleasure as forbidden love was made.

Tangled in the sheets the unlikely couple lay bodies sweaty and entwined. Heart rates had returned to a steady beat, and breathing was no longer heavy. Michael's arms pulled his Russian counterpart on top of his broad frame to look up at her. Her simple beauty was now accented with swollen lips from biting too hard, and a bruise that was still forming. Guilt over took him as he brought a gentle hand up to caress the tender skin. "I'm sorry," His smoky voice sounded gently.

"I t'ink you have made up for it, yes?" Katia smiled in return as her finger traced over the busted lip she had given him when she had sent the punch across his jaw. Her bright eyes scanned over his features before letting a sigh escape her lips. "Vhat happens know?" She knew they had both been thinking it. He was Division. She was Gogol. There was no way it could work out if they ever wanted to go any further than the bedroom.

Frowning gently Michael pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead as he thought. No matter how odd the connection they shared was, he didn't want to lose it. Their acts may have been strictly sexual in their past encounters but the day's events proved that deep down it was not just that. He couldn't kill her. She couldn't kill him. The needed each other even if they couldn't see it past the primal need of having someone close. To feel loved. "We'll figure this out," He promised gently before cracking a smile, "Whatever this is." Exchanging a simple kiss, and a gentle wince from the stings of pain the enemy spies relaxed in the comfort of the lush hotel bed. Forgetting the mess in the main living space of the suit and the mess that being together will bring, they simply enjoyed being in the arms of the enemy.