Title: Sweet Memories

Author/pseudonym: Tinnean

Fandom: La Femme Nikita/Love and Human Remains

Pairing: Birkoff/Kane

Rating: R

Email address: Tinneantoo@aol.com

Disclaimer: They don't belong to me. If they did, they'd be peeling me grapes. All things LFN belong to Warner and Fireworks. And all things L&HR belong to Brad Fraser.

Status: new/complete

Date: 12/01

Series/Sequel: Good God! No!

Other Web Site: http://www.angelfire.com/ny4/tinsel or
http://www.angelfire.com/fl5/tinnssinns

Archive: OK, I surrender. Yes to all the list archives. (I'm so easy!)

Summary: Birkoff needs some down time. Thanks to a tip from Walter he finds someone who just might help him relax.

Warnings: m/m, AU, very definitely AU!!

Notes: This is in answer to Peja's rentboy challenge. Both Kane and Birkoff are portrayed by Matthew Ferguson. Mega thanks to Silk for all her help. This one's for you, Sis.


Sweet Memories
by Tinnean

"Mr. Birkoff, is something wrong?"

Seymour Birkoff, head of comm of Section One, jumped.

"Sir?" He peered owlishly over the wire frames of his glasses at the man known as Operations.

"I've been talking to you for the last ten minutes, and you haven't heard a word I've said! What's the problem?"

Birkoff sighed. "Sorry, sir. Guess I'm just a little ... distracted."

Paul Wolfe was about to tear a strip off the younger man, but those words gave him pause. "When was the last time you had a vacation?"

Birkoff frowned and tried to concentrate. "Ummm..."

"Never mind, I can see that's what you need! Shut down your computer and get your things together. I don't want to see you for a week!"

The man who ran Section One watched as his order was obeyed, his hands in his trouser pockets disguising the sudden hard-on. With Birkoff away, Greg Hillinger would be acting head of comm. He was sure to be *very* grateful.

A wolfish grin lit Operations' cold features.


****

The head of comm was busy throwing some clothes into a duffle when there was a rap on his door. "C'mon in, it's not locked!" he called.

"Don't you know it ain't safe to invite just anyone into your quarters, Seymour?"

"Hi, Walter. It's cool. Who'd want to hurt me?"

The munitions expert looked disgruntled to have his advice brushed off. "Well, someone could. This is Section, amigo! There are strange people around here."

Birkoff swung his bag off the bed and turned to face his friend. "I'll be more careful next time," he promised. "I've got to go now, Walter. See you in a week."

"Um, just one thing, Seymour. What are your plans?"

Birkoff shrugged. "Don't have any. I'd really like to get laid, but I don't have time to develop a relationship." He was startled to see the flush that mounted the older man's cheeks. "What is it, Walter?"

Walter thrust a business card at his young friend. "You don't need to love someone to fuck them. Here. When you get to your hotel, call this number. They'll set you up with someone special, who'll cater to whatever is your pleasure."

"Huh?"

The munitions expert began to wax enthusiastic. "Sure, amigo. A little bondage? A little discipline? It'll be your call."

Now it was Birkoff's turn to blush. "I don't think I'd want someone I just met to spank me, Walter."

The other man grinned and rubbed his hand over the comm op's buzz cut. "Then you can spank her. Go on, Seymour. And knock yourself out!"


****

Birkoff tossed his duffle on a chair by the window of his hotel room and fell backward onto the bed. To his surprise, it was a waterbed, and he bounced, and swallowed a chuckle. As he lay on his back enjoying the ripples under him, he pulled the card his friend had given him out of his pocket and squinted at it.

Candy's Escort Service

it read in fancy script. Hmmm. Candy was probably the woman who ran the stable of girls who would do whatever a guy wanted.

Birkoff sighed. He had never told anyone at Section that his preferences ran to Y rather than X. Walter meant well, but what the comm op would have liked was a guy, not a gal.

Oh, well, it wouldn't hurt to call. This Candy person would tell him she couldn't meet his requirements, and Birkoff could at least tell his friend that he had tried.

He rolled over and snagged the receiver off the phone, then punched in the string of numbers on the business card.

When he finally hung up he was shaking with nerves. Candy had calmly responded to his request for a male escort by saying, "Blond, brunet, redhead? Blue eyes, green, brown, grey? Top or bottom?"

Birkoff had stuttered his reply, unable to believe that just like that his deepest, darkest fantasy was about to be answered. He decided not to press his luck, and settled for simply getting laid this time around.

"Very well, Mr...?"

"Birk...." Wait a second! He couldn't give his real name! "Smith! Burke Smith."

Birkoff thought he heard a smile in the woman's voice. "Very well, Mr. Smith. I'll have someone over to your hotel room within the hour."

It was only as Birkoff was hanging up the phone that he realized he was not registered as Burke Smith. His ... his rentboy would arrive and they'd turn him away at the desk. He fought down his panic and thought hard.

The frown on his face cleared and he reached for his duffle. Buried at the bottom was his laptop. He turned it on and cracked his knuckles, then began the process of accessing the hotel's computer.

When his rentboy showed up and asked for him at the front desk, he'd be sent to Birkoff's room.


****

Kane glanced at the slip of paper in his hand. He was nervous, but determined to go through with this. He had pinched the assignment from Candy's desk when her back was turned, and she had been so distracted that she hadn't even noticed it was gone.

He got off the elevator on the twenty-second floor and searched for the room. His knock was tentative, almost a tap. Gathering his resolve, he adjusted the sling bag that hung from his shoulder and rapped harder.

The door swung open and Kane swallowed hard. The man who stood before him was only a few years his senior, but about the same height. Their eyes were the same chocolate brown, but while Kane's hair curled riotously around his face, his...*date*! He had to remember to think of this as simply a *date*.

His date's hair was barely a quarter inch in length.

Kane offered him a hesitant smile. "Mr. Smith? Hi. I'm Kane."

Birkoff was entranced by the youth in front of him. He could lose himself in those warm, brown eyes, he thought, and he found he wanted to tangle his hands in that long hair, wrapping it around his cock and maybe even coming in it.

"Come in, Kane. Call me Birk...Burke, okay?"

"Okay. Burke," he said shyly. Kane took a strip of condoms and a tube of lubricant from the bag. Birkoff could see there were some toys in there as well: restraints made of some plush material, a black satin mask, a butt plug. A chartreuse dildo that was BIG.

Intrigued in spite of himself, the comm operative picked it up and ran his fingers over it. "Are these things modeled after real people?" he asked curiously.

Kane couldn't take his eyes off the way the older man caressed the rubber dick. He had worried that he might not find his partner attractive, that he might not be able to get hard. Not a problem he realized. "Um, I think so."

"I wouldn't want to meet this guy in a dark alley, then!" Birkoff grinned.

The young rentboy smiled back at him, feeling more relaxed. "What would you like to do?"

"Do?"

"*Do*. You know, top, bottom, rim, spank?"

"Would you..." Birkoff had to clear his throat. "Would you kiss me?"

"Oh, no, Mr. Smith! *Burke*," he hastily corrected himself. "That's not allowed. It's too... *personal*!"

Birkoff, the young man who always did as he was told, who never questioned what was expected of him by that most covert anti-terrorist organization on the planet, suddenly turned mulish. "I want you to kiss me!" He began to stalk Kane around the room, removing his shapeless sweater and then unfastening his trousers and stepping out of them as they dropped to the floor.

Kane's eyes grew enormous. They were riveted by the cock that jutted from the wiry brown curls that covered the other man's groin. He continued to take two steps back for every step forward of Birkoff's.

All of a sudden Kane found himself going over backwards as his legs hit the edge of he bed. The mattress rocked under him, and he couldn't get enough purchase to scramble away from the man who now had his hands all over Kane's body, stripping off his clothes.

Birkoff might dress like a geek, but he did work for Section, which required all its employees to be at least acquainted with martial arts. Under the bulky garments he favored, Birkoff's compact build was firmly muscled.

His hands were relentless on Kane's shoulders, keeping his body still. And then Birkoff lowered his body until their cocks brushed against each other, slick with precome. He took Kane's chin in his hand and pressed his mouth to the pouty lips of the younger man.

Birkoff froze. Something was very wrong. He raised his head and looked into chocolate brown eyes that were awash in tears. Before he could say anything, there was a pounding on his door.

"Just a second!" he called, and he pulled on his trousers. He checked the peephole in the door, just able to make out the tall man who was standing in the corridor. "Yes?" he asked cautiously.

"Open the goddamned door!"

"David!"

"What?" Birkoff turned to face the boy on his bed. "You know this guy?"

Kane nodded, his eyes shining. "It's David McMillan! My lover. We had a quarrel and I left him."

"Kane, open the door and let me in, baby! I'm sorry! Please don't do this!"

Birkoff sighed and unlocked the door. He stepped out of the way just in time. Kane hurled himself at the man who was walking into the room.

Their voices were a counterpoint of apologies, which were lost in sweet kisses.

"Hell!" Birkoff got into his clothes and picked up his duffel. "This room is paid for the week. You may as well enjoy it. *I* sure as hell won't!"

He stepped out into the corridor and pulled the door closed behind him.

A young man about his age was sauntering casually down the hallway, glancing from a slip of paper to the door numbers; he appeared to be searching for a specific room. He looked at the numbered door behind Birkoff. "Mr. Smith? Ah'm sorry Ah was detained. Your address was mislaid."

"My real name is Birkoff. And I don't have the room anymore."

"Mah name is Jason. And how fortunate for us that Ah do have one!"


~End~