Chapter Text
Chapter One
The erotic images flitted away as Blair woke with a shudder, the vestiges of a moan still on his lips. He wiped the sweat from his forehead with his palm, wetting the wool of the fingerless gloves he wore even while he slept. Placing his hand back under the blankets, he snuggled down into the flannel sheets. His breath made a cloud of condensation over his head while he struggled to settle his breathing, which was still ragged from the contents of the dream that had startled him awake. Blair thought about the dream for a moment, and after a bit of consideration, his surprise at the subject matter slowly dissolved. It wasn't such a bad dream after all, he mused. Considering what an awful day yesterday had been, he was astonished that he hadn't had a full-fledged nightmare. This dream was -- unusual, but nonetheless rather pleasant. He let out a yawn and stretched, his mind going over yesterday's events.
He'd been helping the cop he'd just met on a high-profile bombing case. Jim Ellison had recently discovered that he was blessed (or cursed, as Ellison obviously felt) with heightened senses. The fact that Blair's research dealt with people having hyperactive senses, and that he'd found the man was no accident. He'd been searching for somebody like Jim for a long time now. He'd convinced himself that he hadn't committed a crime when he had asked his friend, who worked as a nurse at Cascade Memorial, to fax him any files that raised the flag regarding patients complaining about a myriad of symptoms; symptoms that he attributed not to mental problems or even conventional medical ones, but to having heightened senses, the mark of a Sentinel.
Desperate after his years of searching, Blair had finally taken the risk and sweet-talked his friend into helping. The fact that he'd gotten hold of somebody's personal medical file under somewhat, ah, sneaky circumstances did give him a momentary pause, but even the risk had been worth it now that he'd found Jim. Grinning, he thought about his partner in crime, Joanie, before his smile faded.
What Blair hadn't planned on, was getting dragged into a dangerous case involving a mad bomber. He hadn't planned on being kidnapped, or having a gun shoved in his face, or needing to wrestle an armed woman known as The Switchman to the floor to save his own life, not to mention the lives of numerous other people. And he certainly hadn't planned on having to punch her out to take her down. Furthermore, he definitely had not considered that he would be blown up on a tourist bus on a bridge a hundred feet above the water. Maybe he'd better rethink his relationship with Ellison. And that dream he'd awoken from minutes ago didn't help assuage him one little bit.
"Damn, but it's cold this morning," Blair groused, glancing around the huge warehouse. The rent was cheap because the place lacked central heating and air conditioning, but it had plenty of fresh air from the outside world. It seeped through every crack and crevice in the building's un-insulated walls and settled right into Blair's body each and every day. The heavy-duty portable heating unit that he used in the main area did little to dispel the cold.
"Damn it anyway, Blair. If you want to live without central heat, you need to move to Florida."
With a grimace, he tossed back the covers and scurried toward the bathroom. As he shut the door and fumbled for the knob to turn on the small space heater, he thought back on the reason he'd been awakened so abruptly. Images of a long-legged, steely-blue-eyed, very handsome, extremely grouchy detective traipsed across his subconscious. Jim Ellison was perfection on two feet to Blair. He was strong, smart, courageous and -- a damned Sentinel. Grinning, Blair forced his rapidly cooling fingers to twist the knob to high. He rose, scratching his belly through four layers of clothing. Maybe he should get the dream down on paper before it evaporated into thin air. This one was a good addition to his memoirs, he figured. And this was also one dream that he definitely wanted to remember.
Standing close to the heater, Blair shivered as he waited, until the warmth rising from the metal coils started to take the worst of the bite from the frigid air. Yanking off the gloves, he pulled down the waistband of the two pairs of sweats he wore and standing in front of the john, let out a sigh of relief as he emptied his bladder. Pants pulled back up, he washed his face and hands before he yanked off the furry hat that covered his head. A critical examination showed that his hair definitely needed washing today, but there was no way he was showering until the air in the bathroom reached at least sixty degrees. "Don't want to freeze your dick off, buddy-boy." He snorted in amusement at the comment and slipped out of the door, keeping in as much of the heat as he could.
"Okay. Okay. Coffee first; then notes." Even though his feet were encased in thick wool hunting socks, he still shivered, drawing the flannel jacket closer around his body. The second he started across the space separating the bathroom from the kitchen area, he heard a loud screech. "Quiet, Larry," he muttered. "I'll get you fed in a few."
In the kitchen area, he set the kettle on one of the two burners on the portable hot plate and pulled Larry's breakfast from the fridge. The light inside the small unit didn't work, and he had to search for bread and butter for toast. He dropped the breakfast food onto the table and approached Larry's enclosure.
"I need to get a better place," he said with a sigh while he moved aside the blanket that covered the cage. "Larry," he continued, opening the ape's cage door, "I hate to say this, but as soon as my project's done, I'm afraid I'm going to have to find you another home." He filled Larry's dish with his food and changed out the old water for fresh. "I love you, buddy, but living in the slums just isn't for me."
Larry's big brown eyes searched his face, looking to Blair as if he was asking a very important question. Blair scratched Larry's head. "Don't you worry your little head about it one bit. I promise to find you a good home. No way would I let anybody experiment on you, my friend. Trust me on this."
Larry's little screech told Blair that Larry understood, or at least Blair thought so. "Hell, maybe he's just hungry," he decided, watching the animal cruise though the pile of cantaloupe, bananas, and apples, along with a cup of the monkey chow he'd bought on the Internet. But still, he would keep his promise. Once his project was done, Larry would be living a better life as somebody's treasured companion, he vowed.
When the kettle whistled, Blair passed on the coffee and instead, dug out a packet of the special cocoa mix that Naomi had sent him in his latest surprise box. With a grin, he made a huge mug of cocoa, smiling as he remembered his childhood days with his mother. And he sent up a silent thanks to her also, because it was her insistence that he learn and practice his meditation techniques that he still had the ability to sink into a trance of sorts and sometimes recall his dreams with amazing clarity. As he readied himself to revisit the dream, he found he was looking forward to the little trip.
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A lot of what happened in his dream had happened in real life, Blair knew, as it unfolded before his eyes. He relived his day mostly as it had occurred, but it was after he'd told Jim that he wasn't cutting his hair that things turned weird. Instead of what really happened -- he went home, ate a bowl of cereal and then went to bed -- things got really -- strange...
They arrived back at the station together where he hung out while Jim located his vehicle. Jim didn't say anything about him tagging along, but acted like he expected him to be at his side. Once Jim had gotten the truck out of impound, he didn't drive him straight home, but asked if he wanted to grab a bite to eat. Ravenous, he readily agreed, knowing that they hadn't stopped for a moment on their mad race through Cascade looking for the identity of the bomber. It was well past midnight so Jim took him to an all-night diner. He had a mushroom and cheese omelet, and Jim had a burger with the works. After they ate like starving men, Jim offered him a spare bed for the night. He tried to protest, but his wide yawns must have convinced Jim that his plan was the best one. Without much discussion, Jim drove them to his place.
He didn't have the energy to put up a fuss, so he let Jim take the lead. He was led up three flights of stairs and through a darkened apartment. Jim opened a door and after flipping on the light, he was ushered inside. He glanced around the small bathroom, grateful that Jim had somehow known he needed to use it. By the time he'd slapped some water on his face, Jim was quietly knocking on the door. He opened it and let Jim direct him across the hall into what Jim called 'the spare room'. The bed was ready with clean sheets and the blankets turned down. After tiredly muttering his thanks, he flopped onto the mattress. He thought he heard Jim chuckle again, but he was so tired, he was out before Jim could say, "Take your shoes off, Sandburg." When he woke a few hours later, blinking blindly into the dark, he knew that Jim had not only taken off his shoes and jeans, but he'd covered him up with a nice, warm quilt. With a contented sigh, he was snuggled down into the warmth of the blankets, enjoying the central heat when he heard a floorboard creak, and his eyes flew open.
"Jim?" he called out, sitting up. He listened carefully, hearing the sound of sock-clad footsteps move toward the door of the room, and with the kitchen's night light, he could see Jim's outline in the doorway.
"Sorry, Sandburg. I didn't mean to wake you."
He wrapped his arms around his legs. "It's okay. Are you all right?"
Jim moved into the room and hovered a few feet away from his bed. "Yeah. Fine."
He let out a small chuckle at the obvious tone of Jim's voice. "Okay. If you say so." He knew that Jim was far from all right, but he didn't know what he should do about it. After all, they'd just met, and he got the distinct feeling that Jim wasn't too crazy about him so far. Maybe being thrown up against the wall in his office had something to do with that idea. He was quiet for a minute before he said, "Thanks."
"For what?" Jim asked, moving closer.
He slid over as far as he could on the futon. Jim apparently took his motion as an invitation, because he sat down on the edge of the bed and fiddled with the blanket. There was enough light filtering in from the hallway that he could see the expression on Jim's face. He looked -- scared, but he clearly was trying to hide his emotions. He felt a stab of sympathy for the newly-on-line Sentinel and responded softly, "For letting me study you. For trusting me."
"Sure, Chief." They sat silently for a moment before Jim finally said, "I've had trouble sleeping ever since... The senses thing."
He understood. With his senses now fully on line, Jim was overwhelmed. He hoped he could do something to help the anxious man. "Why don't you...?" He swallowed around the lump in his throat, and even though he knew exactly what he wanted to say, he couldn't quite spit out the words.
"Why don't I what?" Jim asked, his voice softening.
"Lie down," he finally whispered.
Jim looked surprised for a moment before a ghost of a smile tugged at his lips. "If you're sure."
He smiled in return. Jim now sounded almost -- relieved. As if Jim was expecting some sort of rejection, and his offer was a pleasant surprise. With a hand on Jim's arm, he answered, "I'm sure." He laid back against one of the pillows and pushed the second pillow toward Jim, who rose, lifted the blankets and slipped in. "I'm... happy you're here," he said quietly while Jim got comfortable.
Jim chuckled and turned so that they were face to face. They lay very still, just looking at each other for a long while until Jim's hand brushed down his cheek, where he latched onto the strong fingers and kissed the palm.
Softly, Jim said, "You make me feel -- better."
"Good. I'm glad."
"I want to -- kiss you."
"Oh!" he said breathlessly. "Yeah, that'd be nice."
Jim moved closer and when he released the hand, Jim slipped it under his arm and splaying it across his back, encouraged him to move closer. Jim's lips pressed against his, and with a contented sigh, he melted against the warm body of his bedmate. The kisses were wonderful; soft, but firm. They were perfect. They were exciting, and arousing, and inviting. Without words, the kisses beckoned his heart, and he answered Jim's call with one of his own. Struggling for breath, he pulled back a fraction and said, "Make love to me."
It was sweet and tender. He felt each loving touch, each gentle caress of Jim's fingers and lips. He felt loved and desired...
Coming out of his meditative state, Blair let out a sigh of regret as he dug his fingers into his eyes, wiping away the hint of wetness there. "Fuck," he whispered. "I wish-" The jangling of the phone dragged him back to reality, and with a deep, calming huff of breath, he returned to his waking life. The fragments of the dream evaporated as he made plans to meet Jim later on that day.
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Chapter Two
It happened again. Blair woke, confused and startled. Another dream? What was wrong with him? Was he falling apart so soon after hooking up with Jim? Did the idea of shadowing a cop frighten him that much? He considered this thought for a while before he admitted to himself that Jim being a cop didn't scare him at all. In fact, he found it exciting. Maybe he really was going nuts.
Oh, well. Two dreams didn't a mental case make, he figured sarcastically. Still, he couldn't help but examine why he was having these kinds of dreams about his new friend in the first place. Jim hadn't given him any hints that he was the least bit interested in him in the physical sense at all. As far as Blair could tell, Jim didn't think of him as anything but someone to help him learn to control his senses. He had no idea if his new partner was gay or straight, and it certainly wasn't his business to ask. Yet yesterday had turned out to be another harrowing day in the life of Jim Ellison, and by extension, in the life of Blair Sandburg. Something must be dredging up these feelings. And he wanted to know why.
With a snort, Blair rolled over and buried his head under the pillow. He closed his eyes and saw Jim, naked and panting, telling Blair to take him harder, to push deeper. Blair groaned. What the fuck was wrong with him? He knew exactly what had happened when the Sunrise Patriots put the entire police building under siege.
When the helicopter made it back to the roof of the police building, and after Jim's ex-wife grudgingly removed the tape from his wrists, he approached Jim with a mixture of fright and excitement. Questioning his friend, he discovered that Jim had told his boss about his heightened senses. He'd been surprised, and then begged Jim to tell him that being taken hostage and kidnapped - again! - by a bunch of psychotic para-military types wasn't going to be his usual day if he palled up with the detective. Jim patted his cheeks and walked away, laughing!
He pretty much freaked out after Jim's wordless admission that this was very much a daily occurrence. No way was he going to keep putting his life in danger. Being around Ellison was damned dangerous, and he'd hightailed it home, not even bothering to say good-bye to Jim. He needed to rethink his involvement with Jim and his study of Sentinels, or at least this particular Sentinel, before he ended up dead.
But his mind had other ideas. His subconscious liked Jim, apparently, and in this dream, things had definitely been different...
He followed Jim to the locker room where he questioned his friend about how he'd used his senses to take down the militia group. While Jim showered, he took notes and again, once they headed out, they ended up at a local bar, eating greasy hamburgers, drinking beer, and playing pool, of all things.
When they finally decided to part ways and head toward their respective homes he discovered his car had a flat tire, and he didn't have a spare. After listening to Jim bitch and moan over his poor automotive habits, his grouchy friend finally pushed him into his truck and drove him to the warehouse. But instead of dropping him off, Jim accepted his invitation to come in for coffee. They had a fine time, talking and drinking coffee for several hours. This time, it was Jim who was too tired to drive home, and he crawled onto the old sofa, where he collapsed and was snoring softly in a few minutes.
He pulled the afghan from the sofa's back and covered his friend. He moved quietly, getting ready for bed, but before he knew what he was doing, he found himself standing beside the couch, watching Jim sleep. Reaching out to caress the short-cropped hair, he smiled as the bristly cut tickled his palm. Jim snorted, waking. Hastily apologizing for disturbing Jim, he started to retreat.
"Blair," Jim called.
"Yeah?" he said, turning. He felt himself blush. When Jim's eyes widened, he knew Jim somehow sensed his trepidation and embarrassment. Damn, but he had to remember the guy was a Sentinel!
"I want you."
His mouth fell open, and he slowly nodded. "Oh, God. Yes. I want you too."
Jim turned to his back and pulled the blanket away. "Come here."
He moved slowly, his eyes raking the firm body he knew lay hidden by flannel and denim. He ached to remove the clothes that covered the flesh and touch the warm skin underneath. He watched Jim's face intently, looking for signs of acceptance... or rejection.
"Go ahead," Jim offered.
Still astonished at Jim's ability to read his desires so easily, he nodded. With trembling fingers, he unbuttoned the plaid flannel and pushed the muscle t-shirt up, ghosting his hands over the sculpted abs. When his fingers brushed over the pinkish-brown nubs, Jim sucked in a sharp breath and gritted his teeth while his eyes closed and his nostrils flared.
He fell to his knees beside the sofa and leaning forward, flicked out his tongue, tasting the nipple closest to him.
"Blair!"
"Let me love you."
Eyes still closed, Jim nodded. "Yes."
He slowly undressed his lover then himself. Leaving Jim's side only for a moment, he returned quickly, lube in hand. Jim's eyes flew open when he squirted the gel into his hand. He saw Jim's nostrils flare as he smelled the lubricant, and Jim's eyes widened as he watched his cock being liberally coated.
"How do you -- want me?" Jim asked huskily.
"On your knees. Lean forward a bit with your hands on the back of the sofa. Please."
Nodding, Jim moved gracefully, leaning forward and crossing his arms on the sofa back before resting his chin on his elbows.
Carefully, he climbed onto the sofa and positioned the head of his cock against his lover's entrance. Sweeping his hands along the wonderful body in front of him, he spoke encouraging words about what they were doing and made small sounds of appreciation at Jim's physical beauty. When his lover was relaxed and ready, he slipped into the hot cavern of Jim's body, and slowly thrust his hips, savoring the feelings rushing through him. One hand constantly stroked Jim's skin while the other hand caressed his lover's cock. His own shaft moved in slow, deep thrusts, pleasuring his lover. Only when Jim cried out and came in a shuddering rush, did he allow himself to take his own release...
"Wow," Blair said to Larry. "That was very strange. Weird, but -- fun. Jim and me. Can you imagine?" he added, letting out a wry chuckle. "As if... So what do you want to watch today? I taped you Season Three of NYPD Blue."
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Chapter Three
As he showered, Blair smiled. He fisted his dick, letting images of Jim Ellison flit across his subconscious. No sense fighting it, he figured, since his mind had certainly decided that the dreams about Jim were going to continue. The third one didn't even raise an eyebrow, he realized, stroking his flesh. Leaning forward with one hand on the tiled wall, he closed his eyes and concentrated on his cock. He pictured Jim's hand on it, exactly like it had been in the latest dream...
He stood before Jim, entranced as Jim described how he'd been feeling in the house of mirrors when he killed Tommy Juno. He ignored the thought about the man's death and concentrated on Jim's words. So far, during their relationship, his new friend had been fairly close-mouthed about his abilities. He thought Jim's description of standing outside himself while looking at his own detached body, and being able to make himself move and see and hear, but that it wasn't him; it was someone else, was pretty much bullshit. But there was no way he was going to contradict the excited Sentinel. When Sanchez approached Jim, he did the only thing he could do at the time: he excused himself with some of his own bullshit about knowing when to bow out. And Jim hadn't even twitched when he called himself Jim's faithful companion.
So he skedaddled, only to lurk in Jim's truck that one of the other detectives had driven to the scene for Jim. After all, they'd come in that stupid van in which they'd transported the dead twin's body, and it had been hauled off by the forensics guys anyway. Telling himself that he didn't want to spring for cab fare back to his car at the station house, he waited in the truck, reading an old paperback he'd found in the glove compartment.
When the driver's door was yanked open, Jim groused, "Sandburg, what are you doing here?"
He shrugged. "Hitching a ride." Jim didn't question him further, but climbed in. "It was great the way you took care of the killers, Jim. You're a good cop." Jim grunted in response, making him smile. The guy definitely had issues about emotions and feelings, and even accepting praise graciously. They'd have to work on those, he realized. Shelving the thought for now, he asked, "Where's Ms. Sanchez? You guys meeting up later on?"
Jim cranked the engine. "Nah. We decided to just be friends."
With a chuckle, he shook his head. "Yeah, right."
Jim joined in, letting out a bark of laughter of his own. "Stupid, huh? It was just a way to blow her off."
Leaning forward, he stared across the space at his partner. "Really? Why's that? She's a nice looking woman; smart, successful. I'd think she would be somebody you'd be interested in."
Jim looked over his shoulder before pulling out onto the street. He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel before he nodded. "You're right about Sanchez, except..."
He was shocked when Jim glanced his way, giving him the most lecherous grin he'd ever seen. "Except?" he squeaked, irritated at the way his voice broke.
"Except I have somebody else I'd rather blow off."
Snorting deeply, he guffawed. "That's crude."
"But effective," Jim responded before giving him a questioning glance. "Interested?"
He paused for a half a second before a wide grin crossed his face. "Oh, yeah. Definitely interested."
"Good. My place or yours?"
"Mine. It's closer."
"In a hurry?"
"Damn straight," he blurted out.
"Not from this end," Jim quipped, turning toward his warehouse...
Blair bit his lower lip as he came against the shower wall, images of Jim on his knees with that inviting mouth latched onto his cock was indelibly burned into his brain. It seemed so real! His flesh in Jim's mouth, moving in and out. He could see the saliva making his skin wet, and he could feel the wonderful ache that throbbed in his groin just before he orgasmed into his lover's mouth. Drawing blood on his lip, he whispered sorrowfully, "God, Jim. What the hell have you done to me?"
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Chapter Four
The drive home... Home! Blair thought. He had a home! With central heat and air conditioning, and a bathroom that hadn't been used by countless workmen through the years, and a kitchen with a real stove. A fridge also, albeit old, but it kept his beer cold, without freezing it into a solid lump. He was in heaven. There were sofas and chairs and a balcony. And his own room. It had a clean futon, plenty of shelves for his books and although it didn't have a door, he had his own curtain!
Giggling aloud, Blair tried to tamp down his happiness when Jim cast him a disgusted glance as he drove them toward the loft.
"I mean it, Sandburg!" he groused. "If you can't get the ape out of my place, I swear I'll shoot it myself!"
"Jim, man, calm down. Larry is as tame as -- you are." That earned him a glare from his irritated partner. He grinned sheepishly.
When they'd arrived back at the loft, all he had to do was call Larry's name from the open door and the little ape rushed into his arms, chattering nervously and plucking at his shirt.
"See?" Blair said, cradling the little critter. "I've already made arrangements. He's been adopted by a really nice family. All I have to do is give them a call, and they'll come to get him."
"Then do it," Jim said firmly, walking past Blair without another glance.
Blair sighed and made the call. The Fosters came within the hour, giving him time to get Larry and his stuff ready. He cleaned the cage and folded it up; got all the food he'd bought in the last few days since he'd moved in for his week with Jim, into a shopping bag and added Larry's favorite toys and his blanket. He also tucked in the newly acquired permit that allowed the ape to be kept in a non-residential area. Thankfully, the Fosters lived about ten miles out of town so that wouldn't be an issue.
Larry, being the gregarious creature he was, went with the Fosters without a backward glance at Blair. He waved goodbye to the ape, and for a moment, felt a stab of loss, but one look around his new, temporary home and his heart lifted. With a smile, he started to clean up the mess left in Larry's wake, and as a way of thanking Jim for his patience, he dusted the furniture and mopped the floors as he went. They had a quiet dinner before Blair retired to his room, once again thanking Jim for everything he'd done. After reading for a while, he drifted to sleep with the lamp at his bedside still burning...
The click of the lamp registered to his sleeping brain, making him mumble in protest. When his glasses were removed and the book lifted from his stomach, his eyes drifted open.
"Jim, man. Sorry. Fell asleep."
"It's okay, Chief." Jim stood looking down at him for a minute before he said, "You want coffee?"
He rubbed his eyes. Jim seemed to want -- something, so he nodded, rising from the bed. He followed Jim out into the kitchen and leaned against the counter, watching the handsome man prepare a fresh pot.
"I like it here," he said softly. "It's quiet, and the view is great. It's warm too."
"Warm?" Jim said, lifting an eyebrow. "Yeah, that I get. That place of yours was damned drafty."
Nodding, he retrieved sugar and creamer from the cupboard and set them on the counter. "I won't forget the debt I owe you. You helped me a lot this past week. I wouldn't have been able to turn in my paper if it weren't for you."
"No problem," Jim said, pouring coffee into mugs.
"I'll find a place ASAP."
Jim shrugged. "No rush."
"Unless..."
He watched as Jim stirred in a bit of creamer and passed on the sugar. Mug in hand, Jim wandered into the living room and sprawled on the sofa. Watching his friend carefully, he fixed his own cup and followed. He admired the long legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles. His eyes drank in the profile of the handsome face and smooth features. When Jim was relaxed, those tiny lines on his forehead disappeared.
"What?" Jim snapped, eyeing Blair.
"Sorry. I was just -- looking."
"Like what you see?" Jim teased.
"Hell, yes," he blurted out before he could stop himself. He clamped his teeth together so hard that they snapped loudly in the quiet room.
Jim's gaze found his and held it for a moment before the intense clear blue eyes raked eyes down his body. Startled at the blatant examination, he held his breath. It was so damned sensual that he felt his groin tighten. He cleared his throat and said, "Unless you could use a few hundred extra bucks a month."
Jim blinked. "What?"
"Rent, Jim. For the room."
Without missing a beat, Jim answered, "Deal." Then he set both of their cups on the coffee table, and leaned over him, fusing their mouths together.
They kissed slowly for a long while before the kisses turned frantic. Each man's hands scrambled on their clothing, and soon they lay panting and naked on the sofa. Jim yanked his mouth away and rose to his hands and knees. He watched with curiosity while Jim positioned his body so that they were in the position to pleasure each other. Jim hovered over his cock before leaning down and drawing it into his mouth, He let out a cry of pleasure before wrapping his arm around Jim's hips and using his free hand, tugged gently until Jim lowered himself closer. He opened his mouth and tongued the weeping head.
What started as a give-and-take soon wordlessly lapsed into a contest of who could make the other come first. Using his limited knowledge of Jim's heightened senses, he was pleased when Jim couldn't help but stop his own movements to concentrate on what was being done to him. Jim's head dropped as he breathed harshly and minutely thrust his hips. He opened his mouth widely and let Jim fuck his face while keeping his hands on Jim's waist to control the motions. When Jim shuddered, he knew he'd won the contest. Jim came in a hot rush, shooting semen down his throat. He suckled for a few more moments before the limp cock was finally released. Chuckling with satisfaction and wiping his lips with the back of his hand, he let out a yelp when Jim recovered quickly and returned to his duties. Fisting the lower half of his cock and using that deadly tongue on the head, Jim had him spurting come in a matter of seconds.
Jim climbed off the sofa to slip an arm under his legs. Sliding onto the sofa, Jim placed his feet into his lap. As Jim's fingers explored his ticklish feet, they found the sensitive area under his toes. He started to giggle, then laughed aloud. When their eyes met, they both started to laugh. Soon the laughter was so intense that both had tears leaking from their eyes...
"Breakfast, Sandburg!"
Blair's eyes opened widely. He stared at his bedroom ceiling for a moment before he sat up quickly and scrubbed his hands down his face. Running a hand through tangled hair, he sucked in a cleansing breath before he let it out in a rush. "I am so fucked," he mumbled.
"And if you don't get a move on, you'll be more than fucked!" Jim called from the kitchen. "And I won't be home for dinner. I have a date with Gwen tonight!"
Blair let out a theatrical groan. One of these days, he'd remember that when he talked out loud to himself, his friend, the Sentinel, could more than likely hear him. Life just wasn't fair, but what else could he do but laugh at the irony of it all and rise to face the day?
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Chapter Five
Blair was pissed. For weeks now, he'd awoken with the taste of Jim in his brain. But in real life, Jim was -- unattainable. Sure, the man was turning into a good friend, but as far as their private lives went, Jim was just that and only that -- a good friend. And Jim had introduced him several times as his partner, so he had a place in Jim's work life also. They now ate together, shopped together, worked together, but slept separately. And now Blair was angry. Why were the gods dangling these dreams in front of him? Were they laughing behind his back about the futility of it all?
He threw a bagel onto the counter and tossed the butter tub next to it. He slammed down the strawberry jam and smashed the unsuspecting bagel into the toaster.
"Chief?" Jim stood a few feet away, wearing only a towel, fresh from a shower. The look on his face was one of concern. Blair noticed that his hair was still damp, and his broad shoulders were still sprinkled with drops of water. He looked good enough to eat. Damn him anyway. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," Blair growled.
With a raised eyebrow, Jim said, "It doesn't sound like nothing to me."
"I have a headache."
"Do you need to have the doctor check you out again? Maybe the shit that fucking cypher, Lash, stuffed down your throat is having more of an effect than he first thought it would."
"It's not that. Other than the headache, I feel okay."
"I'll get you a couple-"
"Don't bother." Blair turned away from the vision before him. Jim looked so beautiful standing there, his clear blue eyes full of concern; his chest smooth and sculpted; his upper arms strong and muscled; his belly flat and toned... Without another glance, bagel forgotten, Blair raced to the door, grabbing his jacket and backpack, and bolted from the apartment.
He clattered down the stairs and trotted across the street to his car. Unlocking the door, he climbed in, but instead of starting it, he leaned his forehead on the steering wheel, letting out a small groan of sadness mixed with irritation. He had to figure out how to control these dreams. He had to get Jim out of his nightly visions or he'd go crazy. Maybe he should see somebody; a dream interpreter or a psychologist. Or maybe he should move out. With a sigh, Blair realized that he couldn't do that. Nor did he want to. Jim needed him. In just a short time, Jim had begun to rely on him. He needed help with his senses, and he'd started drawing Blair into his cases, showing him evidence and asking his opinion. He even took him on witness interviews and to crime scenes. Jim considered him his partner, and he wanted to act like one. He refused to desert Jim.
"What am I going to do?" Blair closed his eyes, and even though it would be painful to remember, he couldn't help but relive the latest fantasy...
The second the elevator doors closed, Jim moved closer to him. "Swear to me you won't get anything tattooed, Chief. Or pierced or any of that other shit."
He punched the elevator button to the garage level. "And just why should I make that kind of a promise? You don't seem too upset about the nipple ring."
"You got that before I met you. Besides, it's not a good idea wearing a lot of body jewelry in this job. It could get you hurt." Jim crossed his arms, looking as if he was going to launch into a lecture on protocol for a police officer.
"I could take it out." His gaze met Jim's. "Or better yet, you could."
Jim laughed. "Fat chance, Sandburg." He slugged him playfully on the arm. "Are you sure you feel okay?"
"Yes. Thanks, Jim." He gave Jim a smile, pleased at the concern from his friend. "I'm good. The doctor said I didn't get much of that tranquilizer in my system. A trace, he said. It's been almost twenty-four hours, well over the time he gave me for all of it to have fully dissipated. So I'm good."
"I'm glad. So about that promise..."
The elevator doors opened, and he walked quickly beside his partner as they made their way to Jim's truck. Once on the road, he turned in his seat belt and finally said, "Okay. I promise. No piercings and no tattoos."
"Thanks, Chief."
"Now I want something from you."
Jim turned the corner before he glanced over. "What's that?"
"An explanation. Why do you care if I have holes poked in my body or ink shoved under my skin?"
Jim chewed on the inside of his cheek before he asked, "Do you really want to know?"
"Yeah. I do."
Jim slowed down and glanced both ways at a stop sign. He turned left and then left again down a small alleyway until he pulled up alongside a deserted warehouse.
"Jim, why are we here?"
Jim turned off the ignition and unbuckled his seat belt, sliding across the seat. Jim unbuckled his seat belt as well, and in a deadly serious voice said, "Because you're mine." Before he could respond, Jim pulled him close and pressed their mouths together. Jim's tongue worked its way past his lips. He parted them even more, allowing Jim to run the tip of his tongue across his teeth. With a gasp, he opened his mouth in invitation. Jim dove in, deepening the kiss and exploring fully. When the lack of air forced them apart, Jim's eyes met his. "I don't want any marks on you that I haven't put there myself."
When realization of what Jim said smacked him alongside the head, all he could do was nod, his eyes wide and his chest heaving. Finally he managed to say, "I promise. No marks on what is yours."
"Good." Jim's nimble fingers pushed aside his jacket, unbuttoned his shirt and with cool hands, shoved the t-shirt up under his armpits.
Pushing him back against the door, Jim leaned forward, sucking on the ringed nipple. He cried out, arching up from the seat. Spikes of lust coursed through his body. He pushed his chest against the demanding mouth, holding Jim's head in place with his hands. Lost in arousal, he didn't protest when Jim unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants. Instead, shifted to give Jim better access while he muttered, "Hurry! Now! Hurry!" as his cock sprung free. "Jim!" he gasped. "Fuck!"
Jim's mouth never left his peaked nipple, and in response to his demands, Jim bit down on the nub hard enough to elicit a yelp from him before Jim took the ring that was threaded through his skin in his teeth and tugged. Jim's hand jacked the thick flesh that swelled even more at the duel stimulation. His hands scrabbled against the back of his partner's head and he cried aloud when his orgasm was wrenched from his body.
"Oh, God. Oh, God," he chanted. "Jimjim!"
"Mine." Jim pulled back a fraction to stare into his eyes.
"Oh, man. Oh, yeah. Definitely. Yours..."
Blair jump in surprise at the knock on his window. Jim stood beside the Corvair, hands in his jacket pockets, looking like a lost little boy. Blair felt his anger dissipate, and he cranked down his window.
"Hey," he said quietly.
"I hope I didn't -- do anything to piss you off," Jim said just as quietly.
"Nah. I'm good. Hope in. I'll drive today."
Jim gave Blair such a warm smile that he knew he'd been forgiven for his display of temper.
-------------------------
Chapter Six
Blair restlessly paced the floor of his bedroom. The numbers on the clock that rested on his nightstand glowed red in the dark room, seemingly taunting him.
"I won't sleep. I won't sleep," he muttered, counting the twelve steps from one side of the room to the other. "What am I going to do?" he added, sighing and running a hand through his hair. The knock on the doorframe brought him up short. "Shit."
"Sandburg, may I come in?"
With another dejected sigh, Blair called, "Yeah, Jim. Come in."
Pushing aside the curtain, Jim hovered in the doorway. "You okay?"
Blair let out an exasperated huff of breath. "Yes, Jim," he said in a measured tone. "I'm fine."
"You don't sound fine. Pacing at -- 3:54 am isn't fine."
"Don't start with me. Please."
Jim looked hurt for barely a second before he backed away, letting the curtain slide into place.
With a groan, Blair rushed to the doorway and pushed the curtain aside. "Jim! Listen. I'm sorry. I've been having some -- things lately that refuse to settle down. Every time I try to sleep, my brain races even faster. I appreciate your concern, but I'm sure once I work through this crap, things will be okay." He glanced into his roomie's eyes. "So... Thanks."
"Okay, Sandburg. If you want to talk, you let me know."
"Sure, man. I will. And I'll be quiet. I hate waking you when you've worked hard all day."
"It's not a problem, Chief."
Blair nodded and watched until Jim disappeared around the corner. Turning back to his bed, he thought about why he was really anxious about going to sleep. He was afraid he'd dream about Jim again. He and Jim, having sex, making love, sleeping together... Why did he keep dreaming these things when in his heart, he hadn't longed for any of it? Or had he? Was he lying to himself? Was he falling in love with his partner, his Sentinel? His Sentinel? What the hell was he thinking? Jim was no more his than he was Jim's.
With an irritated snort, he climbed into bed and rolled to his side. He did several breathing exercises and forced himself to think about Gillian, the new TA at Rainier. Finally, after a long while, he drifted to sleep...
Jim patted his cheeks and with a chuckle, walked away. He stood for a moment, shaking his head before he followed his partner.
"Jim, man. Wait up!"
Jim glanced over his shoulder. "Hurry up, Sandburg. I'm hungry."
"Okay. Hold your horses."
Lifting an eyebrow, Jim asked, "What now?"
"It's a deal."
"What's a deal?"
"The offer you just made."
"Offer? Sandburg, sometimes you don't make a bit of sense."
"You said that you'd take another dose of that cold medicine in a controlled environment."
"Now I know you're nuts."
He crossed his arms, moving closer to Jim when several police officers walked past. "You said you would under one condition, and I quote, 'You hang underneath a speeding train while I spend the night handcuffed to Isabel.'"
Jim opened the door to the stairs and walked through. "How do you propose to do that?"
"I don't know. I'll find a way. I'll get Isabel to agree to it if you will. And I'll find another night train. I'll think of something! I'm very persuasive when I need to be. And I want to test your senses in relationship to over-the-counter medications."
Jim stopped on the landing and glared. "I am not a lab rat!"
"I know!" he responded, holding his hands out. "But think about it! How dangerous is it for you to take something you might think of as benign? Aspirin, or a cough drop, or -- rubbing some of that muscle cream on your hurting shoulder. I think this is serious, and I'm willing to do what you want in exchange for your cooperation."
Jim's gaze intently searched his face. "You are serious, aren't you?"
"Yes, very serious. This is your life and your health. I think it's important."
Jim remained silent for a long minute before he slowly nodded. "Okay."
He let out a loud sigh of relief. "Great! We'll make sure everything is one hundred percent safe. You won't be able to hurt yourself, or anybody else, and I'll be with you at all times."
"I trust you, Chief. You make the arrangements, and I'm there."
He grinned. "Thanks, Jim."
"I'll meet you at home for dinner?"
"Okay. Let me grab my jacket, and I'll head home in ten minutes."
"Oh, and Sandburg?"
"Yeah?"
"I'm serious about this. I expect to be compensated for my cooperation, and it will include handcuffs."
He grinned and rocked back on his heels. "Of course!"
------------------
When he walked into the loft, he glanced around, not seeing his roommate. The day's experiments had been very informative, but he still hadn't been able to get Isabel to agree to a date with Jim, let alone being handcuffed to him. He hoped that Jim had forgotten about their silly bargain by now. "Jim?" he called out, turning toward the coat rack to hang his jacket.
A hand grabbed his wrist and spun him around. He gasped before he saw Jim standing before him, looking quite serious. Before he could ask if something was wrong, Jim snapped the handcuffs around his wrists. "Shhh," Jim ordered. "Time to collect."
"What?"
"Don't you know what 'shhh' means? It means no talking... or do I have to gag you?"
His eyes widened, and his heart hammered in his chest. He shook his head.
Jim nodded and wrapped a hand around the links connecting the handcuffs together. "Do you agree to payment?"
So much for Jim forgetting about his side of the deal. But this turn of events was -- interesting, and he wondered what was coming next. Instead of protesting, he remembered his instructions to remain silent and nodded in agreement. Jim grunted his approval, and he was spun around to face the wall. The chain connecting the handcuffs was quickly looped over one of the coat hooks, raising his arms over his head. It wasn't enough to keep him from removing the chain, but suddenly he realized that it was the last thing he wanted to do.
His breath started to come out in little huffs and his heart thudded. When Jim's hands reached around to run down the flannel shirt covering his chest, he gasped. A hand cupped his genitals, and he closed his eyes, moaning softly while pushing his hips forward into the large palm.
"Slut," Jim whispered. "I knew you'd like this. Tell me, how many men have you had? Twenty?" He shook his head. "Ten?" Again, he indicated the negative. "One?" He hesitated, wondering, if he admitted the truth, if this sweet torture would cease. And he didn't want this to ever end.
"Don't lie," Jim ordered, giving a warning, albeit, light squeeze. "One?" Ever so slowly, he shook his head. "Shit." Jim let out a huff of breath against the back of his neck. "I'm sorry, Chief. I just thought..." The hand holding his balls fell away while Jim's other hand reached out to unhook the chain, but he had other ideas. He yanked downward, keeping the metal links in place. "Blair? You want -- this?" He nodded. "You're sure?" Again, he nodded. "Do you want -- me?" Jim whispered. He vehemently nodded, earning him a kiss on the cheek. "Oh, God. But not this way... Not your first time." Again, Jim pushed up on the chain. Again, he put his weight behind the handcuffs, refusing to let his partner release him. "Blair!" Jim's tone was a mixture of pleasure and tentativeness.
Jim's hands moved up and down his body. Even through his clothing, he could feel the heat building between them. Jim stood close to him, close enough that he could feel the hard length of his partner through their pants. He groaned, pushing back.
Jim got his message, but he was adamant when he said, "No way. Definitely not for a first time, but I will let you come, Chief. Later... We'll do more later."
He nodded, closing his eyes. Jim unbuckled his jeans and slipped inside, carefully drawing out his engorged cock. With Jim's long, lean body pressed against his entire back and buttocks, his lover circled his waist with one strong arm while his free hand stroked the thick flesh. Jim's lips suckled his ear lobe, nibbling the soft skin before moving along his neck, sucking gently, being careful not to mark, he realized. He moaned, craning his neck to the side to give the teasing lips more access. His hips thrust madly into the tunnel of Jim's hand, and his breathing was harsh and ragged as the hand alternately stroked and squeezed with a maddeningly arousing rhythm. The intense feelings coursed through his body, and as he sucked in a shaky breath and froze in place, Jim's teeth nipped his ear lobe while he orgasmed, spurting semen against the wall. Holding him upright on shaky legs to keep his body weight from his bound wrists, Jim whispered into his ear, "Told you I'd use those handcuffs..."
Blair woke with a grin on his face. He wondered about himself for a few minutes. How could he enjoy such dreams? And because he did, what did that say about him? He knew he was tired of being angry about the dreams. They weren't his fault, and they certainly weren't Jim's. Maybe it was nothing more than needing a good lay. He'd ask Gillian out later today. She might enjoy a little afternoon delight, but right now... Blair reached down and stroked himself. He bit his lip and thought back to the latest dream. Imagining Jim pressing against him, holding him captive, and bringing him pleasure, he quietly came.
--------------------------
Chapter Seven
Sonia Price was just what he needed! Blair wined and dined her, and then bedded her. He would wipe those dreams from his subconscious if it was the last thing he did. Afterward, he admitted to himself that he'd used the woman. She had been sweet and fun, and he had tried to be the same in return. While Blair felt he had been successful in treating her well, he had thought of Jim several times when he made love to her. If only he hadn't overheard Jim and Carolyn's conversation that Sonia's choice of him over Jim had been quite a blow to his ego, Blair might have not slept with her so quickly, but damn it anyway, he needed this. He needed to feel alive and sensual and sexy... and desirable.
When he saw Sonia off to the airport two days later, she didn't seem at all unhappy about their small fling. In fact, she threw her arms around his neck and thanked him for such a great time. He felt torn. He knew he'd used her to make himself feel better, but he'd also tried to be a considerate, if temporary lover. Blair knew he'd been successful with the latter because she was happy when she left. They both knew in advance that their time together was just for fun, and neither expected more. Still, Blair's heart was empty, and it was with a heavy heart that he fell asleep the night Sonia left...
He walked into the loft in the early evening and tossed his keys into the basket.
Jim glanced over his shoulder from his spot on the sofa, beer bottle in hand and sock-clad feet propped on the coffee table. "You're home early."
"Yeah, I know." He yanked off his jacket. "I decided to call it a night."
"Oh? Struck out, huh?" Jim said.
He bristled at Jim's condescending tone. "No, Jim. In fact, I didn't. Sonia asked me in, but I declined."
Jim looked surprised when he asked, "Why's that?"
He glared over his shoulder at his partner while he stalked toward his room. "Because, you asshole, I'm in love with you!" He yanked the curtain that hung in his doorway closed, wishing that he had a door to slam instead. It was hard showing how angry he was with only a piece of material to abuse. It just wasn't very dramatic. If he had been feeling better, he might have laughed at his own silliness.
At Jim's knock on the doorframe, he yelled, "Go away!" When the curtain began to move, he shouted, "I said, go away!"
Through the small opening, Jim said softly, "Blair, may I come in please?"
"No!"
"We need to talk."
He laughed derisively. "In the short time I've known you, Jim, you've never seemed eager to talk."
Jim pushed aside the curtain and slipped inside, but he didn't enter any further. "This is different. You're obviously upset, and I don't know why you're taking it out on me."
With a snort, he threw himself down onto the bed and buried his face in his pillow. "You hate me," he said into the pillow, knowing full well that Jim could hear his muffled words.
"I do not hate you!" After a long pause, Jim asked, "Did you mean that?"
Turning his face to the side, he snapped, "No, I said it to piss you off."
"Sandburg, I'll try once more before I do get pissed. Why are you angry with me? Have I done anything to indicate that you should -- fall in love with me? And what does any of this have to do with Sonia?"
He pushed himself up and sat on the bed, crossing his legs. "I'm so confused!" He raked his hands through his hair, making a bigger mess of the already disheveled strands.
Jim sat down also and said, "We're both adults. Just spit it out."
"You and Carolyn laughed at me."
"What?" Jim's eyes widened. "Oh, that."
At least Jim had the grace to blush, Blair noticed. "Yes, that."
"I admit I was -- jealous."
He gave Jim a sidelong glance. "And you figure you're a much better looking guy than I am. You're tall and built and blond."
"Brown, Chief. My hair is brown." At his shrug, Jim added, "I was jealous, but it wasn't so much that she picked you, but that you picked her."
"So what? This isn't the first time a woman has picked me over you. And plenty have picked you over me. What's different now? Why did you have to -- belittle me to your ex?" He suddenly paused before he said, "What did you say?"
"I'm sorry! Okay! That stuff with Carolyn and me... It was just bullshit! I wanted you to pick me, you thickhead genius! Sometimes, Sandburg, you talk so much that you don't hear a thing!"
Their gazes locked. "Really?" he asked expectantly. "You really mean that. It wasn't just a slip of the tongue. You really wanted me to pick you?" At Jim's nod, he felt his anger vanish before he gave his friend a small smile. "Because that's why I came home early. I'd rather be here with you, watching the tube and eating popcorn than having sex with a beautiful woman. How sick is that?"
Jim scooted closer, reaching out to stroke his hair. "Not sick at all. In fact, it's very flattering." Jim was serious when he said, "Ditto, Chief."
"Ditto?" he echoed, chuckling a little, loving Jim's finger's carding his hair.
"On the popcorn and TV. Rather be here with you than with... whomever."
"Cool," he responded with a smile.
"So how about you and me make some of that popcorn, turn on the television, and -- neck on the sofa." Jim gave him a sweet smile.
"It's a date."
Laughing, Jim ruffled his hair and said affectionately, "You are such a rogue..."
With a smile, Blair woke slowly. He rolled to his back and stretched, feeling rested and refreshed. He could hear his roomie in the kitchen, making coffee. "That was a nice one," he said softly. "Thanks, Jim." As if on cue, Jim's voice echoed through the loft.
"Sandburg! The water heater's busted! You're going to have to take a cold shower this morning!" There was a pause before his friend's voice added, "And we're out of toilet paper!"
Laughing, Blair rose and went to have his first cup of coffee with Jim.
---------------------------------
Chapter Eight
With Jim out on an all-night stake out, Blair was on his own for dinner. He pulled a storage container from the fridge and opened the lid. With a grimace, he saw the leftover noodles that Jim and Drennan had prepared two nights ago. The same night that Maya had left... He clamped the lid back on, his eyes prickling. Damn it anyway, he groused to himself. She's gone! Get over it. No longer hungry, Blair wandered to his bedroom and lay down. He might as well go to sleep, he figured. At least in his dreams, somebody loved him. Somebody was concerned about whether or not he was happy and cared for. Jim cared...
"Come on, Sandburg. You didn't eat any lunch, and you refused to eat dinner with Drennan and me. You've been in your room for hours now." Jim paused before he cajoled, "I saved you some noodles. I even put in sesame seeds. They're your favorite."
He sighed and sat up, rubbing his irritated eyes. "Let me go and splash some water on my face. Okay?"
"Sure. I'll heat this up for you. Beer?"
"Nah."
"Tea?"
Nodding, he rose. "Sure. Thanks."
Jim smiled. "We'll sit in the living room."
He paused, raising an eyebrow. "You must be worried if you're actually suggesting we eat in the living room instead of yelling at me about getting food on the sofa."
Shrugging, Jim said, "You had a rough couple of days. Not to mention that lump on the side of your face. I'll get you a couple of aspirin, too."
"Thanks, man."
He ate the bowl of noodles that Jim heated for him, and drank two cups of tea. Jim nodded approvingly, and after they'd finished (Jim had a beer and a half a bag of pretzels), they sat side by side watching some documentary until he started to drift off. Jim tugged on his arm until he acquiesced and lay his head on his partner's lap. He was a bit surprised at the open show of affection, but it felt too good to question. Jim's hand stroked his arm for a good while before moving to his head. Soft caresses down his hair and on his temples felt so wonderful, and it wasn't long before he fell asleep with Jim watching over him. A Sentinel guarding his tribe of one...
When Blair's eyes drifted open, he let out a small sigh. It had been a good dream, soft and warm, and he felt better. He knew he'd get over Maya eventually; that it wasn't meant to be. But right now, he was still feeling the sting of a lost love. Leave it to him to get love and guns all mixed together in one swoop. Dreaming about Jim had helped. Maybe these dreams weren't so bad after all.
-------------------------
Chapter Nine
Blair lay in bed with images of Jim cavorting through his mind, as usual. When he'd gone up the stairs to his partner's bedroom that morning with the wine glass wrapped in a towel, he hadn't been sure what would happen. It was more than astonishing to him that Jim could actually sense Laura's pheromones on that glass. She had touched it hours ago and he still reacted. Jim was amazing. His senses were miraculous and wonderful and plain -- amazing. No wonder Jim had no control over his attraction to Laura. This was definitely something primal in a Sentinel; a new chapter for his dissertation, he thought with a chuckle. While he felt badly over Jim's hurt feelings about Laura, he couldn't repress the scientist in him that was in awe of a Sentinel's abilities. But he did have to admit, he was sometimes glad he didn't have those abilities himself. And this was one of those times.
There had been some good things that had happened, though. He saw Jim without his shirt yet again, and those times were some of his favorite moments. Since the dreams had started, he'd been alternately surprised, angry and confused. Now he was almost -- happy about them. At least in his sleep, his dream self seemed to have a lot of fun. With a small snort, Blair rolled to his side and curled up, drifting off into his own world of Jim Ellison...
"Stop that, Sandburg!"
Startled, he looked up from his book. "Jim? What?"
Jim stood before him, his hands on his hips. "Just stop it!"
Rising, he set the book aside and looked at his roommate through narrowed eyes. "What is wrong with you? I'm only reading. What? My thoughts are bothering you also tonight? My lips are moving too loudly? What?"
"You know exactly what I'm talking about!" Jim crossed his arms, glaring.
With an exasperated sigh, he said, "Unless you tell me what's going on, I'm going to bed."
As he walked by his silent partner, Jim reached out and grabbed his upper arm. "You're doing what she did," he ground out.
"What the hell are you talking about?" he ordered. "Man, you are driving me nuts! Ever since this afternoon when Laura was taken to lockup, you've been acting strange. Look at me." When Jim's eyes met his, he asked, "Are you in withdrawal?" Jim rolled his eyes and with a scowl, turned his face away. "You are! I don't believe it. You were high on her scent, and now you're crashing." He shook the hand from his arm, intending to escape from this weird conversation when he saw the confusion etched on his partner's face. After another momentary pause, he asked softly, "Exactly what do you want me to stop?"
Jim looked like he was ready to bolt and it was only after a long moment that he finally blurted out, "Pheromones."
"Pheromones?"
"Yeah."
"You mean... My pheromones?" A curt nod from Jim gave him his answer. "Oh, shit. You can smell... I'm sorry! I didn't mean... Well, shit."
"You mean... You don't -- you know, want them?"
"Want them? Hell, no!"
Jim's face turned cold and he walked toward the door. Grabbing his keys, Jim started to turn the knob. Not willing to let the misunderstanding widen, he rushed over and slipped between his partner and the door.
"Don't go." At the emotionless face turned toward him, he sighed. "Listen... It's hard to say this, but... For a while now, I've been -- attracted to you." The steely blue eyes looked into his, and he saw a glint of interest behind the wall of ice. "When you could smell Laura's and not mine, I figured you -- liked hers better. At first, I didn't know it was possible that you could even do it. But once I understood what you were capable of, I was surprised you could smell something like somebody's arousal. Then I realized that you could smell hers, but all I could think was: why not me?" He ran a hand down his face. "But what could I do? You and Laura had something; we didn't, and nothing I could have said could have made a difference...
"You guys had chemistry." He put a hand on Jim's chest. "I wished that it was me. That we had chemistry. And if you are attracted to my pheromones, then maybe there's -- something there after all. Maybe now that Laura's gone, you and I..."
Jim's face relaxed, and he finally said quietly, "I like your pheromones, Chief."
His face brightened. "Cool. Because there's nobody else in the world I want to like my pheromones other than you. So..."
"So..." Jim smiled. "So I like other things about you. Other than your pheromones, of course."
He grinned, basking in the warmth of Jim's gaze. He hated when his partner's face was a cold slate. He liked a warm Jim much better. "Do tell."
"Later. I'm much better with show than tell..."
Waking to the alarm clock's buzz, Blair rolled over and lay for a moment, smiling. "That was nice," he whispered to the Kachina doll staring at him from his nightstand. "I wish..." With a shrug, he rose to get ready to go with Jim to that stake-out down at the docks. They had the night shift and had forty-five minutes before they needed to relieve Brown and Rafe. Just enough time to throw on some clothes and brew up a fresh pot of coffee for the thermos. Maybe Jim would make some sandwiches while he got the coffee ready. Hurrying, he went to join his partner in the kitchen.
-----------------------
Chapter Ten
It had been so wonderful seeing Brother Marcus again. Blair smiled while he emptied his overnight bag into the hamper. He grabbed the laundry basket and headed into the kitchen. Might as well do the laundry, he mused, trotting up the stairs to retrieve Jim's dirty clothes also. Back down in the kitchen, he found detergent and fabric softener under the kitchen sink and headed down to the basement.
Clothing sorted and put into the two washers, he opened one of the journals he'd been reading and started to check out an article by his mentor, Eli Stoddard, about the effects of modern civilization on the indigenous people of Borneo. Blair was impressed. That would be a hell of a study in which to participate. He read while the washing machines ran through their cycles. When they finished, he put the wet material into the dryers and set the timers for forty-five minutes. Thinking he'd maybe go back upstairs and return when the laundry was dry, he instead sat back down and leaned back in the chair. In minutes, he was drifting to sleep...
"I still can't believe Brother Theodore blessed your gun!"
Jim shrugged, taking off his jacket and hanging it on the coat rack. He removed the weapon from his back clip and set it on the small table just inside the front door.
"He said it was to bless me with the gift of good judgment and rational thought during the performance of my duties."
"I know. Isn't that great?"
Jim pinched the bridge of his nose. "That's not all."
"No?"
"No. After you went to pack a bag for Brother Marcus to drop off at the hospital, he also gave me another blessing and said something really -- strange. He told me to use my special gifts wisely."
His eyebrow arched. "Special gifts? You mean... Did you tell him?"
"No, not a word."
"He's a very intuitive man, Jim."
Jim gave a small snort. "Apparently. So, Sandburg... Why were you so quiet on the drive home? I'd have thought you would have been all wound up about the visit you had with Brother Marcus at the hospital."
He gave his friend a small smile. "We had a good visit, and I'm very happy he's going to be okay." He walked over to the sofa and sank onto the cushions. "He gave me some -- unsettling information." At Jim's curious glance, he added, "It's about his time in the outside world. When he was Jackie Kozinski." Jim walked over to the sofa and sat down beside him. He had to smile. Only Jim had the patience to sit quietly and let him tell his story at his own speed. "He told me he knew my mom back then... Back in '67 and '68."
Jim's forehead wrinkled in thought before his eyes widened. "You don't mean...! You aren't...? Oh, wow."
He nodded. "Yeah, I think I am..." Clearing his throat, he shook his head. ""Heck, Jim. I don't think, I know I'm his son. He said while he was in the hospital that he'd have them run a DNA test, and that if I was interested, he'd give his permission to compare mine to his."
"Are you going to do it?"
Shrugging, he said, "I guess so. I don't need the DNA test to prove it. I believe him. But I think he'd like it if I did. It's made him very happy, and I think he wants some sort of proof. It makes it more -- real for him."
"I would have thought you'd be happy about finding your father."
"Oh, I am. I love Brother Marcus. On one hand, it's just a bit more than I had expected from the weekend. But now that I think about it, it wasn't such a big shock in the long run. Don't ask me why, but I just -- knew. But the main thing was that the weekend was supposed to be a time for you to recharge your batteries, not for you to be in jeopardy once again. I'm sorry for everything that happened."
"Not your fault, Blair. And besides, a couple of good things came out of the weekend."
"Good. I'm glad you found some peace."
Jim smiled and moved a bit closer. "There's something I want to tell you. I talked to Brother Marcus myself, and he said..." Jim's gaze slid away from his for a second before the obviously embarassed Sentinel cleared his throat and returned to look into his eyes. "He said that you're -- attracted to me."
He ducked his face, letting his hair fall forward, hiding his features. "Oh. He told you that."
"I know he didn't break a confidence, so I assumed that you were okay with him telling me. I mean, you didn't ask him not to apparently, and I hope I wasn't out of line..."
"Jim, man. It's okay. It's true. I did talk to him about you, about us. And I didn't swear him to secrecy. No confessional privilege was broken."
Jim let out a relieved laugh. "Good, because I feel the same. I'm falling for you, Chief, in a big way."
His face lit up, and he moved closer to his partner. "Really? That is so cool, man, because I'm falling for you in a big way."
"Cool? I've just made a fairly major declaration, and your only response is cool?"
With a light heart, he laughed. "Cool is good, Jim. I can show you how good if you'd like."
Jim laughed also and nodded happily. "I'd really like that. I have a feeling I'm going to wish that you had taken that vow of silence after all."
With a mischievous grin, he launched himself at Jim...
The dryer's buzzer woke Blair from his sweet dream, and it was with a smile and a light heart that he folded his and Jim's clothes, mingling them in the laundry basket. He liked seeing them touching, nestled together in layers of colorful cloth. Maybe he'd go up and make that rice and broccoli casserole Jim liked so much, and he'd put extra cheese and crushed crackers on the top, just the way his partner liked it.
---------------------------
Chapter Eleven
Blair finished his beer and picked up his empty bottle, along with Jim's. "Another one?" he asked, holding out the empty bottle.
"No. Thanks, Chief. I think I'll run to the market. We've been gone long enough that everything in that fridge is history."
"Want some company?"
"Nope. I have a handle on it. I'll get the makings for dinner. You want anything else?"
"A package of whole wheat bagels for breakfast?"
Jim smiled and patted Blair's shoulder. "I'll be back in a bit."
"Sure, man. Enjoy."
Unhappily, Blair watched Jim's retreat from the balcony. He listened while his friend picked up his keys from the basket beside the door and turned the knob. The soft click of the lock indicated his departure. Blair sighed. He'd thought that after the adventure they'd shared; after going to Peru and rescuing Simon and Daryl, and after what happened with the children and the drug lab and... well, everything, that Jim would finally open up to him. But even tonight, he could tell that Jim had something on his mind. When Blair had asked, Jim brushed him off, as usual, but Blair didn't buy his excuse that he was too tired to talk about it. And just what had caught Jim's eye? While they were out on the balcony enjoying that first sip of beer, he had turned and his gaze was definitely focused on something from inside the loft. Blair's own gaze searched the interior of the apartment, but he could see nothing. After a few moments, Jim's attention returned to Blair, and he dismissed Blair's invitation to talk yet again. So they had sat quietly, drinking their beers and relaxing. Now Jim made it obvious that he wanted to be alone, and Blair respected his wishes. What else could he do? His partner wasn't the sharing type, and he rarely let Blair into his private world. Would Jim ever trust him enough to let him in? With a sad sigh, Blair sat back on his lawn chair and closed his eyes...
"Man, it's good to be home!" He took a pull from his beer and smiled at Jim, who returned the smile with one of his own.
"Tell me about it," Jim said testily. "That was a hell of a trip."
Ignoring Jim's terse tone, he nodded as he rose. "Another?" he asked, holding out his own empty bottle. Jim nodded, draining the last sip and passing it to him. "Anything-" Jim's focus suddenly sifted toward the loft's interior yet again.
He glanced into the apartment, but saw nothing. Returning his attention to Jim, he saw Jim's gaze intently drawn to -- something. "Hey." He placed a hand on Jim's shoulder, but received no response. "Jim, you're scaring me. What is it? Is it the panther? Are you seeing it here?"
Jim gave a small shiver and looked up at him with surprised eyes. "Yeah. I can see it. It's standing on my bed, looking down at me right this second."
"Oh, wow. Really?" He walked into the living room and stared upward. "I wish I could see it! That is so damned amazing! Jim, you are so lucky! I'm sure it's some sort of totem. I need to do some research, but I'm wondering if every Sentinel has a protective totem."
Jim came up behind him and put a hand on each of his shoulders, gently squeezing. "Thank you," he said huskily.
He glanced over his shoulder into his partner's eyes. "What for?"
"For not thinking I'm fucking nuts seeing -- it... the panther."
Turning, he shook his head. "Oh, no! I'd never think you were crazy! There's a reason you have these abilities. You're special, Jim. Very special!"
He was surprised to see Jim blush. "I don't know, Sandburg..."
"Trust me on this. I know from when I speak."
Jim raised an eyebrow. "You are one strange guy."
Raising himself up on his toes before rocking back on his heels, he grinned. "Thanks. No use being one of the crowd."
Jim laughed as he reached out with both hands. "You're definitely not one of the crowd, Chief."
His partner's thumbs rubbed his collarbones gently Even through the material of his shirt, Jim's touch made him shiver. "Thanks, man. And neither are you."
"We're quite a pair, aren't we?"
He grinned, nodding happily. "We are!"
"How about that beer?"
"Coming right up." After placing the two empty bottles on the counter, he retrieved two cold ones from the fridge and twisted off the tops. He dropped the caps into the trash before joining Jim on the sofa. "Here you go."
Nodding his thanks, Jim said, "I had a vision."
He stopped mid-sip. "What?"
"You asked about my senses... In the jungle. When I regained my abilities." Moving to the edge of the sofa, he waited, holding his breath, for Jim to speak. After a long minute, his patience was rewarded when Jim began. "I followed the panther through the jungle. It ran up onto a stone altar of sorts. The entire surface was covered with Incan or Aztec symbols and faces. Then it... morphed into a warrior." Jim picked at the paper on his bottle. "It looked like the warrior on the photographic plate in that book of yours. 'The Sentinels of Paraguay'." Jim's gaze sought his out. He patted Jim's knee and nodded encouragingly, so his partner continued. "He told me to choose, so I did. I chose to be a Sentinel. It was like somebody turned the switch back on. All of a sudden, my abilities were back. And I heard you and Kimberly and the children being taken away..." Jim took a sip of his beer. "I was afraid to tell you. It sounds so -- ridiculous, but now I know I can tell you anything."
"That means a lot to me, Jim. You mean a lot to me, too."
Jim smiled. "You too, Chief. More than you know."
"Oh?"
With a casual shrug, Jim said, "You and me, Blair. We make a hell of a team."
"That we do. So... you want me to make us some supper?"
"Nothing in the fridge to eat, Sandburg. Everything is either hard as a rock or covered with mold."
"Sounds like we need to hit the grocery store."
"We could make a quick run right now, then come back and maybe grill some burgers or something."
"Good idea. Let's do that. I'll grab my jacket and some cash."
"I'll drive."
"What? You don't like my wheels?"
"It's raining, and your roof leaks."
"Does not!"
"Does so!"
Laughing, they both tried to walk through the doorway together. They jostled each other, elbows jabbing playfully before Jim ruffled his hair and pulled him into a quick hug...
The loft door slammed, jarring him out of his dream. "Jim?" he called out.
"Just me, Chief."
Rising, he walked to the balcony doorway. "Need a hand?"
Jim seemed to examine him for a moment before he finally nodded and smiled. "Sure, Chief. I bought strawberries. You in the mood for strawberry shortcake?"
With a smile, he went to help Jim make supper.
---------------------------
Chapter Twelve
"Angie gone?" Blair asked, sitting at Jim's desk with his head cradled on his arm.
"Yeah," Jim responded. "I think she's going to be all right."
"She's a strong woman." Blair sighed tiredly. "I hope it all works out. It sucks when things from out of the past come back to slam you upside the head. Speaking of upside the head, my head is not cooperating right now." He gingerly touched the place where Weston had clocked him, not once, but twice.
Jim gave him a sympathetic smile. "Let's get you home."
"Thanks, man. I have a headache that won't quit. And I'm sorry to say, as good as Angie's new album is, the decibel level that Simon played it at didn't do good things to my brain." Chuckling, Jim draped Blair's jacket over his shoulders and with a hand under his elbow, dragged him to his feet. Blair gave a sidelong glance at Jim. "You don't look all that good yourself, Detective."
"To tell you the truth, my hand is killing me, and that bullet wound on my arm hurts like hell."
"We need to get those dials back under control."
"At home, Sandburg. I need a strong cup of coffee and a hot shower."
"I'm with you, man. Lead on."
---------------------
"Feeling better?" Blair asked when his partner emerged from the shower in a cloud of steam.
"Yeah. You?"
"Yes. Took a couple of aspirin while you were showering. I'm doing okay. I've made tea."
"Smells good."
"How are the dials?"
"Manageable."
"I'm all for a cup of soothing tea and then bed."
"I think I'll pass on that tea, Chief. I'm beat. Good night." Jim gave him a ghost of a smile before he turned to climb the stairs.
"Sleep well, Jim."
Blair poured himself a cup of the chamomile tea and added a dollop of honey. He carried the cup into his bedroom and after climbing in, leaned against the pillows, sipping the brew when it cooled a bit. The warmth started to lull him to sleep and after finishing the last sip, he set the cup on the floor and closed his eyes...
"Tea?" he asked, holding aloft the pot he'd just brewed. "It's chamomile. It will help you sleep."
"Smells good, Chief. Thanks."
Jim came around the counter and while he poured two cups, Jim slipped an arm around his waist. He stood very still, somewhat surprised at his friend's action, but having his partner close felt so damned good that he was afraid to move and ruin the moment.
"Do you mind?" Jim asked as his lips brushed his ear.
"No," he squeaked, irritated at the way his voice broke. His hand shook as he added honey to the cups of tea. Jim's hand covered his.
"I'm making you nervous."
Shaking his head, he said as reassuringly as he could, "No. I'm just -- surprised."
"Is that a bad thing or a good thing?" Jim said huskily.
"Oh, definitely good. It's -- nice having you close."
"I've been wanting to get close for a while now, but I wasn't sure how you'd respond." Jim's hand moved down his body and when he reached his waistband, the hand stopped. "From here, I can tell you're responding very positively, Chief."
He gave a small snort and wiggled back an inch to let their bodies touch. "I'm responding, man. Definitely responding."
Jim's arm tightened around his waist. "Let's take the tea upstairs. I'm afraid I'm too tired tonight and not in the best condition for much, but I'd like to -- hold you. If that's okay," Jim added hastily.
Leaning his head back on Jim's shoulder, he nodded slowly. "Oh, man," he whispered. "I'd really, really like that. Very much."
A small kiss touched his ear. "Come on then." His partner reached out and picked up one of the cups, stepping back.
He let out a small groan at the loss of the bodily contact, but when he picked up his own cup and turned to look into his friend's face, he smiled. Jim gazed at him with interest and approval. He felt -- good, in spite of his injuries, and with anticipation, he followed Jim up the stairs to what was now going to be a bed shared by both of them...
"Sandburg?"
Blair woke to the gentle shaking. "Jim?" he asked.
"You were talking in your sleep and moaning. Are you okay?"
Blinking, Blair nodded. "Sorry. Yeah. I'm fine. Really. It's all good."
"You sure?"
Blair nodded again. "Yes. Go back to bed. "
"Okay. If you're sure."
Blair made swooshing motions with his hands. "Go and get some sleep, Jim. I'm good. It wasn't a nightmare, just -- weird."
"Okay. Good night then."
"Night, Jim."
--------------------------------
Chapter Thirteen
"Thanks, Sandburg."
"Sure, man," Blair said with a nod at his friend as Jim climbed into the passenger seat of the Corvair. "Did you hate it?"
Jim gave a curt nod. "Yeah, and Jack would have hated it also. When I go, please spare me the pomp and circumstance and the rest of that shit. Just stick me in the ground and let me rot."
Blair sighed deeply. "Listen," he said as he merged into the light afternoon traffic, "funerals aren't for the dead, Jim. They've always been for the living. As an anthropologist, I understand the need for ritual. It helps those left behind to cope and to come to grips with the fact that their friend or loved one is gone. The ceremony gives the loved one a sense of peace; a way to say good-bye-"
"Can we skip the lecture for once?" Jim groused, cutting in.
"Whatever," Blair muttered, falling silent for the rest of the drive home. As they walked toward their apartment building, Jim paused before he turned toward his truck. "Jim?" Blair called, standing on the curb, puzzled.
"Going to go for a drive," Jim said over his shoulder. Without another glance at Blair, he climbed into his truck and drove off.
Blair shook his head. "Will you ever trust me, Jim? All I want is for you to talk to me. I'm sorry you can't do that." He turned and dejectedly walked into the building. Punching the elevator's 'up' button, he waited for the door to open. When the car finally reached the ground floor, the door remained closed, seemingly stuck. He kicked it with his foot. "Piece of shit."
He had no choice but to take the stairs and once he reached his home, he entered the silent loft. It was still early and he had planned on cooking something Jim would like. Something to comfort, and to show he cared. To let him know how much he wished that Jim hadn't lost yet another friend. But Jim didn't give him a chance to show his concern and to extend his hand in friendship. As far as Jim was concerned, Blair didn't feel like he was any more to Jim than an almost -- extemporaneous friend, albeit a useful one at times for his senses, but still not one to confide in. Like Jack's car, hidden under deep water, Jim kept his emotions and feelings hidden from the world.
He put a frozen pizza in the oven, and while it heated, he thought yet again about Jim. The detective seemed to trust him on the street, that much he admitted to himself, and at work, he treated Blair with a kind of lazy acceptance. Food hot, he ate the pizza and drank a couple of beers while he watched a Lethal Weapon marathon on the tube, falling asleep half-way through the second movie...
"That was a very nice ceremony, Jim," he said, watching his partner climb into the Corvair. "Did you know that it's a sign of honor to discharge weapons at a funeral? It all started centuries ago as a signal to others that your weapons were empty, and you came in peace."
"You don't say?" Jim said absentmindedly.
"Yeah. When ships came into the harbor, they fired their cannon to indicate that they intended no harm. Now it's a sign of respect." Jim nodded. "Are you okay?"
"I guess so."
"You want to head home?"
"Yeah. Okay."
He watched Jim out of the corner of his eye. Jim naturally seemed disheartened about Jack's death, and even more so about the involvement with Emily. "It's okay."
"No, it's not," Jim responded quietly.
"You have to forgive yourself."
"No, I don't."
"Man, you surely love the martyrdom thing."
"What?" Jim snapped, turning in his seatbelt slightly. "I enjoy what?"
"Nothing. Forget it."
"No, I'm not forgetting it. You'd better tell me exactly what kind of shit you're shoveling, Sandburg."
He sighed. "It's not shit, Jim. You seem to need to make yourself suffer! You were like this with Danny-"
"That was my fault!"
"You're proving my point. It was not your fault. He was a cop doing his job! You didn't kill him, and you didn't kill Jack!" He pulled into his parking spot in front of their building and killed the engine. "I understand how painful this is! I've lost friends too, but I don't think everything that happens is something I can control."
"I should have been able to do something! If I hadn't been fucking his girlfriend, this wouldn't have happened! He'd still be alive." Jim shoved the door open and clamored out of the vehicle. He slammed the door and stalked toward his truck. "Don't wait up for me."
"Jim, please. Don't do this. Come home so we can talk. We'll hash this out, and you'll feel a heck of a lot better. Trust me. Talking helps."
Jim put his hand on the handle of the truck's driver's door. "I don't want to talk about it! Don't you get that?"
He stepped closer to his hurting partner. "Then let me fix you something to eat while you take a break. You've been running non-stop this week, and you need some downtime." Jim's fingers tightened, his knuckles going white. "Please," he asked softly. "It would mean a lot to me." Relieved when Jim gave a curt nod and walked toward the sidewalk, he followed his friend into the elevator and up to their apartment. Entering, he said, "Go and take a nice hot shower while I'll fix us something to eat." Again, Jim was silent, but he did as bid, disappearing into the bathroom, emerging when he had the food ready.
They sat at the table, slurping chicken noodle soup and munching grilled cheese and peanut butter sandwiches. He smiled to himself, remembering Jim's outrage when he'd first spread peanut butter on the bread before grilling his cheese sandwich. Jim wrinkled his nose at the finished product, but at his insistence, Jim had tasted the sandwich. He remembered laughing at his friend's face. It went from distaste to acceptance in a half second, and when Jim finally smiled, asking for his own sandwich, he'd laughed even more and made Jim two. Now they considered them the ultimate comfort food, and Jim's pleased glance as he ate let him know that his partner knew his scheme and appreciated his efforts. Silently, they ate and cleaned up, side by side. The way it should be, he knew.
Just as silently, they brewed coffee and carried cups into the living room, to sprawl on the sofa together. Sipping the hot liquid and eating a few butter cookies left over from the batch he'd bought from the bakery yesterday, they shared a comfortable silence and a comfortable space on the couch. A few hours later, when Jim fell asleep, sliding sideways, he guided the tired man's head onto his lap, knowing full well that he was taking advantage of Jim's weariness from the emotionally draining week to coddle the man. His partner wouldn't allow it while he was awake, he knew, so he enjoyed the status quo while it lasted.
He trailed his fingers ever so lightly through the short-cropped hair, watching the television with half an eye. It wasn't until his fingers were grabbed in a strong hand that he froze in place, shocked that Jim had woken and found him touching his hair. He sucked in a startled breath and sat up stiffly, barely breathing, with his hand locked in the vise of his partner's grip. They stayed that way for a long minute before Jim's hand opened and his fingers were released.
"Sorry..." he whispered.
"It's okay. Feels -- nice."
His eyes widened. Nice? "Oh," he let out in a huffy whisper. "Good."
"Don't -- stop."
Again, shock registered to his brain. "Okay," he finally managed to say, letting his hand return to its duties, stroking the soft yet bristly hairs along Jim's strong neck. He didn't speak again for a long while, but let his fingers convey his feelings -- feelings that he knew he'd kept under lock and key for a good while now. After a long time, Jim took his hand again, but this time, his friend pressed gentle lips into the center of his palm, making him gasp.
"Jim?" he squeaked, irritated at the bewilderment that he couldn't keep from his tone.
"Would you...? I really need...? God, I am such a jerk!" Jim started to rise, irritation at his own inability to express himself clearly etched on his face.
He moved quickly, leaping up to press his hands against the strong shoulders, forestalling Jim's escape. "Tell me," he ordered softly. "I want to know what you need. Anything. You can ask me anything. Tell me anything."
Jim flinched under his palms, his shoulders jerking. "I don't know... if I can."
"Can what? Can tell me what you want from me?" A terse nod was Jim's response. He chewed his lower lip for a moment before he boldly asked, "Do you love me?" Jim's shoulders slumped and he nodded again, this time slowly. "Let's go upstairs. Okay?" Another nod. "I need to hear you say yes, Jim. You have to agree. I have to hear it."
Jim swallowed loudly enough for him to hear before he looked up with a pleading look on his face. Blue eyes made brighter with the hint of wetness that touched them gazed longingly at him. "Yes. Please."
A wide smile crossed his face, and his hand cupped the strong jaw. "Okay, then. I'd love to. With you and only you. Understand?"
Jim's face brightened, and although he didn't smile, he eyes certainly did. "Oh, yes."
They climbed the stairs together, and with Jim standing beside the bed, he undressed his lover, slowly and gently, kissing the firm flesh, as it was unveiled. He neglected no part of Jim's body, and soon they lay spread on the bed, chest to chest. Kissing and touching, he worshiped Jim with lips and fingers and finally, cock, buried deep in the giving flesh until they merged as one...
The sun streaming in through the balcony windows finally woke Blair. He glanced down at his own body, seeing that he had been covered with the blanket from the back of the sofa. So Jim had come home sometime after he'd fallen asleep and had taken the time to cover him. He glanced around. Jim had also cleaned up the leftover pizza and beer bottles, and turned off the television, all without waking him up to yell at the mess he'd made. Blair reconsidered his conclusions that he'd made yesterday about Jim not thinking about him as more than a roommate and an annoyance. Jim's actions showed that he did care about him, and with a smile, Blair got up to make sure there were clean towels in the bathroom for Jim's morning shower and to fix his partner a good breakfast.
------------------------------
Chapter Fourteen
Slumped in the hard plastic hospital chair, Blair dozed. Jim nudged his arm, holding out yet another paper cup of vending machine-brewed coffee. He almost refused, but Jim looked like he was pleased to have brought him the bitter stuff, so he took the cup with a smile and a word of thanks.
"Any news?"
Jim nodded, sipping his coffee. "Yeah. The surgeon came in a while ago. Simon's in recovery. They got the bullet out and the bleeding stopped."
"He's doing okay?"
"They had to give him a couple of pints of blood and right now, they're giving him IV antibiotics, but otherwise, they say he'll be fine. Maybe a touch of muscle damage."
"Whew," Blair said, relieved. "Remind me to skip my class reunion when the time comes." He took a sip of the bitter coffee before he asked, "So now what's the plan?"
Jim shrugged, finishing his coffee. He rose and tossed the cup into the nearest waste bin. "The doctor says Simon could possibly travel in two or three days, but he's definitely out on medical leave for at least a month. We could hang out; then drive him back. But if you have classes to teach or something, we could drive back now and either we drive back up, or maybe Joel could. I'm sure Daryl wants to see his dad."
"Let me make a few calls... What time is it anyway?"
"Six-thirty."
Running a hand through his hair, he stretched. "I'll call Gretchen at eight when she gets in and make sure my eleven o'clock class on Thursday is covered. Otherwise, I don't have anything to worry about. I'm all yours, little buddy."
Jim rolled his eyes. "Once Simon's into a room, I'm ready to find a hotel and take a shower."
"And sleep for a week." Blair glanced around and when he knew they were alone, he said softly, "You looked pretty good in that deputy's uniform."
Jim gave him an exasperated glance and sat down in the chair next to him. "You are asking for it, aren't you?"
Before Blair could teasingly ask exactly what Jim was going to give him, a white-coated woman walked through the double doors leading to the visitors' lounge. "Mr. Ellison?"
Jim rose, as did Blair. "Yes, ma'am."
"He's in room 203, resting comfortable. He'll be asleep for at least eight hours."
Blair asked, "He's okay?"
"Yes, fine. Everything went very well. He woke briefly in the recovery room, so he's fully aware of his surroundings, but Captain Banks is a lucky man. The blood loss and the surgery have taken their toll, of course, so he needs his rest. Go home and get some sleep yourselves." She gave each man a stern glance. "You look like you need it."
Thanking the doctor, Jim and Blair took her advice and headed for the nearest motel.
"Are you hungry?" Jim asked, tossing the hotel room card on the dresser and dropping his duffel on the floor.
"No, I just want to sleep." He likewise set his bag on the floor before he flopped down on the double bed closest to him and sprawled out. Dragging the pillow under his head, he gave a tired groan.
"Shoes, Sandburg."
"Yeah, yeah," Blair muttered. Rolling over, he sat up and untied the laces on his hiking boots, dropping them to the floor, where each hit with a soft thunk. Rubbing his face with both hands, he rose and used the bathroom, washed his face and hands and brushed his teeth. "Thanks, Jim," he said when he returned to the bedroom. At Jim's puzzled glance, he waved a hand. "My stuff. For putting my toiletries in the bathroom. And for looking very -- authoritative in that uniform."
Jim rolled his eyes, giving a snort of amusement. "Go to bed, Chief."
With a tired grin, Blair stripped off his clothes and in his t-shirt and boxers, crawled between the covers. He was asleep almost instantly...
The officer swaggered toward him, dressed in a brown deputy sheriff's uniform. The star on his chest gleamed in the lamp's bright glow. With the hat jauntily perched on his head, the officer shucked the jacket and dress shirt before moving onto the pants. He waited expectantly, aroused immediately, his mouth open to breathe, when the officer stripped and approached him wearing only the hat and the holster slung low on his hips. The gun in the holster bounced against the officer's bare leg while the officer's -- other weapon provocatively led the way.
"Like my gun, Chief," the officer asked, fondling both of the weapons simultaneously. At his wide-eyed, open-mouthed surprise, the officer laughed deeply, throwing back his head. The hat fell to the floor. "I'll take that as a yes!" the man chortled. "Is this what you want?" the officer asked, fisting his erection. "Is this worth the price of your transgressions?"
From his place on the bed, lying on his side, he kept his eyes glued on the man before him, and he slowly nodded. The officer set the pistol on the nightstand but he kept the holster on his waist. The officer stroked himself, the hard cock inches away at almost eye-level. He squirmed, only now remembering that he was as naked as the day he was born and that his hands were handcuffed behind him. He glanced upwardly into the officer's eyes. "Am I your prisoner?" he whispered, his throat suddenly dry.
The officer's eyebrow arched. "Definitely. I'm in charge here, prisoner. You will do as I say; no questions asked. Do you understand?"
This time, he didn't bother speaking, but opened his mouth in invitation and waited. He hoped he didn't seem too eager. After all, he was a prisoner. The officer stared down at him for a moment before the man pushed the head of the thick cock against his lips. His eyes widened, as did his mouth. The officer grunted his approval at this gesture of acquiescence, slipping the thick flesh in deeper. He made a small noise deep in his throat and adjusted his jaw to accommodate the swelling cock.
"You're my prisoner, buddy-boy," the officer informed him as he pushed forward before backing out part way. With one hand, the officer cradled his head at the right height while the other was used to guide the flesh in and out of his cooperative mouth. "You're under arrest," the officer said breathlessly, moving his hips gently. Apparently, even though he was a prisoner, he was being treated humanely -- for now. With a snort, he continued his task while the officer panted harshly and said, "You have the right... to scream, if you dare. Anything you say... will be used against you, and you will be sorry if... you cross me.
"God!" the officer suddenly shouted, pulling away. "Don't want to end this too soon, Curly," the officer said, roughly pinching the head of his own wet cock. The man huffed out a steeling breath before he grinned down at his prisoner. "Nice, Chief. Very nice," the officer said, stroking his arm and shoulder before the officer's fingers found his nipple. Twisting, the officer smiled when he gasped. Shoving him to his back, the man leaned over and bit the hardened nub that he still held in his fingers, eliciting a scream from him. The other nipple was treated to the teeth, and again, he cried out from the mixture of pain and pleasure.
"I like when a prisoner makes his preferences known, but you are much too vocal." From the nightstand, the officer picked up a red and white bandanna, and after twisting it into a long strip and tying it so that there was a golf-ball sized knot in the middle of the strip, it was slipped around his head, and the gag was tightened into place.
Of course, he tried to speak, but his words were unintelligible, and his cries would definitely be muffled by the cloth. He lay on his back, his hands trapped under him, his mouth gagged and his nipples on fire. He glanced down at his body. The nipples were peaked and red. His cock, rock hard, drooled constantly. The officer noticed the fluid pooling on his belly and leaning down, sucked the slit of the dripping cock, making him cry out against the gag and thrust his hips upward. God, but he was pathetic, begging for more.
"Like that, prisoner?" Fingers explored his balls, pulling down on the sac. "No coming too soon, little partner." Another bandanna appeared; this one was wound around his scrotum, forcing his balls to the bottom of the sac. He groaned, shuddering at the feeling. He ached for release, and he mindlessly thrust his hips, seeking friction. When the officer rose and turned away, he kept his eyes on the man while he rolled to his side, wantonly rubbing his aching shaft on the blankets.
The officer turned to waggle a stern finger into his face. "No way, Tonto. You're not getting your rocks off yet. Not that you'd have much luck with the way I've got you lassoed." The officer laughed, tugging on the bandanna wrapped around his balls before he was flipped to his stomach and pulled down to the bottom of the bed so that the tips of his toes hit the floor and his cock hung heavily between his legs with no source of friction within reach.
He moaned deeply, wiggling frantically; the officer laughed heartily and smacked the upturned globes of flesh. He cried out against the gag, his cock straining even more. The officer laughed again. "You are such a slut," the officer said. "You like when I smack you. You liked when I bit you. You'll like what else I'm going to do to you even more." With another deep laugh, he continued, "I'm glad I arrested you. Next time, maybe you won't be stupid enough to be caught hitchhiking in my town." The officer bit one of his ass cheeks, and again, he screamed. "Then again, maybe you will."
Wondering what other sort of torment the officer had in mind and fervently hoping it would last a long, long time, he felt his legs being raised. Craning his head to the side, he saw the officer place each leg on a chair. With rope that the man had retrieved from the pile of items that he'd placed on the nightstand, each ankle was tied tightly to the ladder back, and the chairs were shoved far apart, spreading his legs wide and exposing his most private part.
He thrashed in his bonds, knowing what was coming next. His cock ached with unreleased pressure, so aroused was his state. Still, he had an image to uphold. He kept up his protests, happily thinking that this guy was definitely a Neanderthal -- and he was damned wonderful. But he didn't want the man to know how much he was enjoying himself until later, much later. He almost snickered, but he remembered his position, so with much effort he tried to close his legs, but his efforts were for naught. In this vulnerable position, he couldn't move the chairs.
Fingers touched his body. He cried out when they breached his opening, delving deeply, pressing, wiggling, twisting, turning... Jolts of pleasure coursed through him each time the fingers hit his hot spot. He screamed before biting down on the wet material between his teeth. Relentlessly, the fingers explored. All he could do was whimper, interspersing them with muffled cries of encouragement. He tried to keep up his blushing, virginal facade, but he finally admitted that he was so turned on that it was hard to remember his role in the exchange. Right now, he wanted to be fucked, and fucked hard. He wiggled in his bonds, begging for release, both from the ropes and from the need to come. But his captor played his part well. The officer ignored his pleas until he slumped in his restraints, almost sobbing with need. He was a prisoner, and right now, there was nothing he could do about it. Furthermore, he wanted more, and he wanted it from this man. He wanted so much more...
"What did you say, prisoner?" the officer asked. "I can't hear you." The fingers moved in and out, lubed and slick, tickling his sensitive channel, bumping his prostate over and over. Mindlessly, he sobbed. The gag was removed. "Tell me what you want."
"Fuckmefuckmefuckme," he begged, hiccuping as his hips thrust wildly. "Pleasepleaseplease... I'll do whatever you want. Please fuck meee!"
"You're sure, partner? You want me to ride you?"
"Pleaseplease," he pleaded shamelessly, his entire body on fire. His nipples burned; all of his skin, especially his ass cheeks, tingled; his cock felt as if it would burst into flames if he didn't come soon. His balls ached and throbbed as if electricity was being zapped into them. He knew he would internally ignite in two seconds. "Do it now!" he ordered.
"Mighty bossy, aren't you?" the officer said, smacking his butt cheeks again.
"Yes!" he wailed, wantonly raising his ass a few inches. "More, you motherfucker! Please!"
"Saddle up, cowboy," the officer muttered, shoving into his body in one slick motion.
He screamed. Ridden hard and fast, he begged for more, begged to be allowed to come. The officer was relentless, taking him over and over until he was sweating and crying and pleading. Only after the officer's appetite was sated and the man's come was dripping from his body did his captor release the bandanna from around his balls. He came so hard that he howled...
"Sandburg! Wake the fuck up!"
Blair sat up with a shout with Jim's strong hands firmly holding his upper arms. It took him a good minute to catch his breath before he pulled from Jim's hold, realizing that they were in the motel room and that their friend was in the local hospital.
After giving Blair a concerned look, Jim rose and went to the dresser to find clean clothes, Blair grimaced as he peeled away the sweaty, semen covered sheet from his body. "Oh, man."
"Are you all right?" Jim demanded. "I had a heck of a time getting you to wake up. You scared the shit out of me."
"I- I think I'm okay."
"That must have been a hell of a nightmare."
Blair grimaced at the come spread on his belly and legs. He got up and found clean boxers in his bag, also grabbing a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. "Sorry I woke you." With a shrug, he added, "It wasn't a nightmare, exactly. It was more like an -- erotic dream."
Jim raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And who was the lucky lady?"
Blair rubbed his left eye with his thumb and forefinger before he looked at his friend. "Nobody you'd know." Then he turned and walked into the bathroom to shower, leaving a chuckling Jim rambling on about the significance of wet dreams.
--------------------------------
Chapter Fifteen
"Man, that was one beer too many," Blair muttered when Jim dragged him home after yet another round. It seemed that every police officer wanted to buy him a drink after he'd made that great tackle, managing to catch the detonator before a lot of people were killed. He hadn't expected any payback; he's done what he needed to do on pure instinct. Guess he had some protective imperative of his own. He gave a snort before he giggled.
"You'll be fine." Jim pulled off his shoes and tossed a blanket over him. "I'll get you a glass of water."
"You're pretty."
"Make that two glasses of water."
Blair giggled, waiting patiently for Jim to return. "Missed you," he said with a huge grin when his friend did indeed return, carrying a large glass filled to the brim.
"Drink this."
"Sure, sweetie." He took the proffered glass and managed to spill about half down his shirt while he drank noisily. "Thanks, honey bunch."
Jim swiped the glass from his fingers and set it on the floor. "Geez, Chief. You're a mess." Jim pulled Blair to a sitting position and proceeded to strip off the wet shirt and undershirt.
Blair held up his arms, talking continually. "Man, you are the best. That's why I love you so much. You take good care of me. Just like my mom." He glanced up into his much-loved Sentinel's face. Jim looked amused, which only spurred him on. "I've loved being here with you since the second you asked me to move in."
"I didn't ask you, Sandburg. You begged me, remember? And your week is long over, buddy."
"But you love me too much to ask me to leave. Come on, sweetie, admit it. You love me. Love, love, love," he sing-songed, flopping back.
Jim unbuckled his belt. "I love you. There. Happy?"
"Ex- Ssss- Ecstatic, Jimmy." Blair's eyes closed and in seconds, he was gone...
"Come on, Chief. Let me help you into bed."
He intently stared at Jim. Jim seemed genuinely concerned about him in his inebriated state, so he didn't have the heart to admit that he was faking just a bit. Sure, he'd had a few beers, but otherwise, he was mostly sober. But he couldn't admit that to Jim; not right now anyway. Not with Jim close and helpful. He couldn't admit to Jim that he had wanted his partner's arm wrapped around his waist, helping him up the steps. That he wanted Jim's hands undressing him and skimming over his skin as Jim took off his clothing. He closed his eyes and moaned softly.
"Head hurt?"
Opening his eyes, he nodded, pouting pitifully. "Sorry," he whispered. When Jim pulled off his jeans, his shorts automatically followed. "Oops," he quipped, glancing down at his cock before he looked up at Jim.
Jim's gaze was riveted on his dick, and he was shocked when he saw Jim actually lick his lips. "Chief..."
He froze, holding his breath, when Jim moved closer and his hand reached out. The hand moved closer and closer. His breath quickened and his cock started to lift. Slowly it grew as the hand moved closer. He could feel the heat from Jim's skin and he waited, his eyes drifting shut. "Oh, God..." He heard a thud and his eyes flew open. Jim had moved backward so quickly that he'd bumped into the wall and stood plastered to it. Jim's face was expressionless, but the icy blue eyes looked almost terrified.
With his heart in his throat, he asked, "Jim? What is it?"
"I almost... Sorry!" Jim blurted out, stumbling toward the door.
He moved quickly, sliding in front of his partner on stockinged feet and planted both hands on the rock-hard chest muscles. "I saw the look in your eyes. I know you're scared at the feelings, but I also know you want me as much as I want you! Admit it, damn you! Tell me you want me!" he shouted. Jim shook his head, his mouth moving wordlessly. "Say it, Ellison," he ordered, his hands skimming Jim's shirt.
Jim shuddered under his touch. "I- I can't."
"Why not? What can't you do? What? Tell me!" He grabbed the front of his partner's shirt and yanked on it. "Talk to me. Please, Jim," he asked, his voice softer. "Tell me what you want."
"You're drunk, Chief. I can't take advantage of that. It's not right! I'm older, and I'm your partner."
He let out a soft snort. "Jim, man, I have a confession to make. I'm not drunk. I only had two beers. I was faking."
Jim's eyes narrowed. "Why?" he growled.
"Don't go all caveman on me, Ellison," he growled in return. "I'm tired of waiting for you to make a decision, so I decided to test the waters, as they say. Make sure you were as interested in me as I am in you. And you are. I saw your face when you looked at me. You want me." He took a step back and spread his arms. "And here I am. Take a good look and if you like, it's yours."
Jim's eyes were wide and his mouth open before he clamped it shut. His eyes narrowed suddenly. "You tricked me."
He shrugged. "Yeah. So? It worked. Love and war..."
"Why you little..." Jim took a step forward.
Instead of backing up, he took a step forward also. His chest bumped into Jim's. He reached a hand up to slip behind Jim's head and pulled him closer. "I'm going to kiss you. Got a problem with that?" Jim slowly shook his head as his lover's hands moved to rest on his bare hips. "Good." He closed the last inch of space and crushed his mouth against Jim's, forcefully kissing his lover until they were both breathless. Moving back barely a hair, he swiped his tongue over Jim's lips, and tapped the tip on them. Jim grunted and opened his mouth, giving him the go-ahead to enter.
While he guided Jim backward toward the bed, he explored the depths of his lover's mouth. When the back of Jim's knees hit the bed, he pushed lightly, toppling him onto the mattress. With a feral grin, he climbed up Jim's body and once again, fused their mouths together, deeply kissing his lover until Jim was squirming under him.
Moving back to look into the blue eyes that intently held his gaze, he smiled. "Mine." Jim's wide-eyed nod was all the response he needed. He moved quickly, stripping Jim of his clothing before he proceeded to worship every inch of skin he could find. And when he sucked Jim's cock into his throat and felt the orgasm that ripped through Jim's body, he hummed in approval and came also...
The hand that appeared in front of his face held two round, white pills. With a groan, Blair muttered, "Tell me it's Sunday, and I don't have to get up."
A deep chuckle filled his ears when Jim said, "Sorry, Sandburg. It's Wednesday, and we have work to do. Take these and move your ass."
--------------------------
Chapter Sixteen
"Have a good time, Chief!" Jim called down from his room.
"Thanks, Jim. You too." Blair closed the door behind him and trotted down the stairs.
It look about fifteen minutes to get to the ball field where Rainier's co-ed fast-pitch softball team was playing its last game of the season. Right now, the team Blair played shortstop for, the Panthers, were 14-2. If they won tonight's game against the Wolverines, they'd be this season's champs. That meant heck of a wild party, along with a shiny silver trophy and a fifty dollar gift certificate for each player from their sponsor, Thompson's Sporting Goods. The whole team was pumped up for tonight's game.
Pulling up and parking alongside the chain-link fence, Blair sat for a moment and glanced around. He loved sports, especially basketball and baseball. He'd collected memorabilia from both sports since he was in elementary school, and the fact that he was a pretty good ball player added to his enjoyment of the games. He climbed out of the Corvair, breathing deeply. The familiar smells of the ball field danced through his nostrils, among them, hot dogs and pizza, and fresh-cut grass. It was approaching dusk and the lights started to power up, illuminating the field. He especially liked playing ball at night.
"Hey, Sandburg! Quit daydreaming!" one of his teammates called. "We only have fifteen minutes to warm up!"
"Coming!" Blair called, grabbing his bat and glove, and trotting over to join his friends.
------------------
It was the bottom of the sixth, and Blair dove for a line drive...
"Hey, Chief. Wait up!"
He stopped before the open door, glancing toward the loft's upper bedroom. Jim peered over the railing. "What's up, Jim?"
"I'm coming with you."
"I thought you had a date with Wendy tonight."
"I canceled." Jim trotted down the steps, dressed in sweats and a Rainier Softball Association t-shirt. At the bottom of the stairs, his partner stopped to tie his sneakers, looking sideways across the room. "A guy can only take so much of all that true crime bullshit. Besides, I want to see this game. You guys are smokin' this year."
He laughed aloud at Jim's exaggerated drawl. "Cool. I'd love for you to come! I didn't want to even ask since you told me you had a date."
Jim rose and joined him at the door. He grabbed his keys. "I'll drive." At his nod, they walked down the hall side by side. "You're more important than a date, Sandburg. It's not every day my partner is on the winning softball team."
"We haven't won yet."
"But you will," Jim said with a smile. "I have faith in you."
He blushed under his friend's scrutiny. "Thanks, man. That means a lot!"
-----------------
The bar was noisy and crowded. The Panthers' players were gathered at two long tables, and the top was littered with empty beer bottles. Jim grinned, setting a cold one in front of him.
"Thanks!" he shouted over the whoops and hollers of his teammates.
"My pleasure!" Jim called back, grinning from the chair next to him. "It was a great game! You made the winning out! I'm proud of you!"
He smiled, incredibly pleased. "It was nothing!"
Jim sipped his beer, shaking his head. "Don't do that."
"What?"
"Don't belittle your accomplishment. It was a thing of beauty. You were airborne for a good three or four seconds, and when the ball smacked into the leather, it was awesome!"
"Awesome!" he echoed, embarrassed and pleased at the same time. Jim's hand clamped on his shoulder and squeezed. He grinned even wider. "Thanks," he mouthed. "Let's go home," he added, knowing that even in the noisy bar, Jim would hear him.
Jim looked surprised for a second before he nodded. "Sure, Chief."
Together, they rose and after bidding the rowdy group good night, and after the last few high-fives, they wandered out to Jim's truck.
"You okay to drive?" he asked.
"I had my limit. Two beers in two hours, and a plate of nachos, so I'm good. You?"
"Same here, plus that burger. I didn't want to -- dull the happiness."
Jim smiled. "I understand." When they were in Jim's truck, he turned on the overhead light and said, "Open the glove box, Chief. There's something in it for you."
"Really? Cool." He reached in and extracted the small box. It was taped shut, so he carefully peeled the tape off before opening the box. Carefully, he removed the contents. "Oh, my God! A '69 Topps Reggie Jackson!"
"It will finish your set. It's the same year you were born. I knew -- you were trying to complete it, so..." Jim shrugged.
"Jim, man. It's too much."
"Happy Birthday, Blair."
He felt his throat close and he swallowed hard. Turning toward Jim, he said seriously, "Thank you so much, Jim. This means more to me than you know." Intently examining the card, he added, "It's so beautiful."
"So are you."
He turned slowly toward Jim. "I am?"
"Yeah." Jim glanced down, picking at the upholstery with a fingernail.
"Jim..." He slid across the seat until he was beside his companion. "I- I don't know what to say."
"Nothing. I don't expect you to say anything. Just -- enjoy the gift."
He was quiet for a moment before he finally admitted, "There is something... Jim, I love you. Really love you."
Jim's head snapped up. "Blair?"
"You gave up your date for me. You bought me this great gift. You came to my game. Hell, you share your life, your home with me. You're -- wonderful." He threw his arms around Jim's neck.
Jim laughed, hugging him tightly. "Love you too, Chief."
When they finally parted, he said, "Let's go home, Jim. We have a lot to talk about."
"I think I'd like that."
"Great. Drive, James."
Jim laughed, and cranked the engine...
"...burg? Chief? Come on, buddy. Wake up. That's it. Open up those eyes and look at me."
Blair blinked, moaning softly. The bright light hurt his eyes, and he tried to move his hand to cover them to block out the pain.
"Calm down, Blair. What is it?"
"Li- light," he whispered.
"I'll turn it down. Better?"
"What- happened?" Blair opened his eyes and glanced around. "I'm in a hospital?"
"Yeah. You have a concussion. What do you remember?"
"Nothing... Wait... I was going to the ball field." Blair's eyes grew wide. "Did we win?"
Jim laughed softly. "Yeah, Sandburg. You won. You also took a hit to the head with a baseball."
"I did?"
"You don't remember?"
"No. I remember pulling up at the field, but... That's it."
"Just relax. The doc will be in to check on you in a bit. They want to make sure you're okay, so they're going to wake you up every hour. I volunteered to sit with you and do the honors." Jim's face grew stern when he explained, "You're lucky, Chief. It's a good thing you have such a hard head."
Blair gave Jim a wan smile. "Thanks." He rubbed his eyes before he asked, "Where's my card?"
"Card?"
"Yeah. '69 Topps Reggie Jackson. It was for my birthday."
Jim gave a low whistle. "That's a nice gift, Sandburg. Who gave it to you?"
Blair closed his eyes, and whispered, "No one. It was just a dream. Sorry I'm rambling. I'm -- confused, and I guess I don't feel very well."
"Just rest."
"I think I will. Go on home."
"I'd rather sit here with you, if you don't mind."
Blair turned his head slightly and opened his eyes. Jim was leaning forward, worry lines creasing his forehead. He remembered his dream, and even though Jim really hadn't given him a wonderful gift and hadn't expressed his love to Blair, Blair knew that Jim, this Jim, did care for him. He could see it in his eyes. "Thanks. I'd like that." He was rewarded with a special smile, and it was with the image of Jim smiling, watching over him, that he held onto as he fell asleep.
---------------------------
Chapter Seventeen
"So you're not taking Amber up on her offer," Jim stated when Blair walked over to his desk. He leaned back in his chair, looking at Blair with what he could only describe as amusement mixed with satisfaction.
"You are such a dick," Blair muttered. "And no, I'm not going to call her. She's a nice girl, but not the one for me."
Jim rose, laughing. "Come on, Chief. I'm done here, so let's head home."
"What about the Matthews case?"
"Simon kicked it over to Rafe and Brown. After this last case with the Iceman himself, he figured I deserve some down time. He's given me two days off."
"Oh, cool!" Blair said with a grin. "And I don't have any classes for at least three days. Want to head out to Cascade National Park?"
"Yeah. Sounds good. I have a new rod I've been dying to try out. The trout have been calling me for at least a month."
Blair laughed, and as he shrugged into his jacket, he said, "I have a new fly that one of my students gave me last year. You're welcome to it."
Jim tousled Blair's hair. "You're too good to me, Sandburg. Let's do it."
--------------------------------------
The trout had been wonderful. Blair had savored each bite, complimenting Jim so much that he'd finally yelled at Blair to shut up and eat. But he didn't bother to hide his pleasure at Blair's praise. They ate two fish apiece, along with the goodies they'd bought at the deli on their way out of town. The potato salad was spicy, and the chocolate brownies were thick and gooey. They'd shared a six-pack of Redhook Ale that he'd been hoarding and spent the remainder of the evening talking and enjoying the crisp night air while toasting marshmallows in front of a roaring fire.
Now, lying in his sleeping bag next to Jim, listening to the gentle snorts of his friend in sleep, Blair smiled. He turned to his side and could just make out Jim's outline in the shadows. With a full belly and his best friend beside him, he drifted to sleep...
He walked down the murky alley, carefully avoiding the puddles of dirty water. As he emerged from the mouth of the dark street, he glanced from right to left. Several figures walked up and down the street, and he walked by each one, critically examining the women and men he saw. Shaking his head at each invitation for company, he walked until he saw what he wanted.
Leaning on a lamp post under a flickering light, the man rested his broad shoulder against the cold metal. He walked toward the man and when he approached, the man gave him an all-knowing grin and pushed off the post.
"Three hundred," the guy said without waiting for him to ask. At his raised eyebrow, the pro said, "I could see it in your eyes, sport."
He nodded and followed the man as he turned and walked away. For a second, he was tempted not to follow, but that was a fleeting thought. There was no way he was not going to follow that firm ass, those broad shoulders, that proud head. He trotted to catch up.
"What's your name?"
Blue eyes glanced down. "What do you want to call me?"
He looked away, chewing on his lower lip. "Jim. I want to call you Jim."
"It will cost you an extra twenty." At his nod, ‘Jim’ grinned. "We're here." The man produced a set of keys and pushed the door open, waving him through. "Guests first."
He gave a curt nod as he entered the room. He looked around, surprised at the cleanliness and tastefulness of the small dwelling. Soft light spilled onto the large bed that dominated the area. A bold coverlet of many colors spread across the mattress, and several pillows encased in matching shams were carefully arranged.
"Drink?" the man offered, holding up a glass decanter of an amber liquid. At his nod, he asked, "Ice?"
"Yes. Thanks." He took the proffered glass and sipped. "Wow. This is very good stuff."
The man's eyebrow rose. "You expected cheap hooch?"
He blushed. "No, sorry. I was just- Sorry. Sometimes I talk too much. Besides, I've never-"
The man moved closer and brushed a thumb over his jaw. "Sure. None of us have ever..." He let his words deliberately trail off, clearly conveying that the man didn't believe a word that was said about his protestations that he'd never used the services of a pro before. Before he could reiterate his truthfulness, the man said, "Payment up front, if you don't mind."
"Yeah. Sure." He pulled the wad of cash from his pocket and placed it in the outstretched hand. The second his fingers touched the cool flesh, the man wrapped a hand around his wrist and tugged him hard enough to pull him from his feet. Deftly caught in the strong arms, he was physically lifted onto the bed and dropped to his back, where he lay sprawled out, panting from surprise and more than a bit of excitement.
Hovering over him, the man he forced himself to think of as Jim said softly, "It's your dollar, Chief. Tell me what you want."
"I don't... What do you like?"
Jim stood, crossing his arms. "This isn't about me. You paid for two hours, so you get to choose. I'll take off my clothes and maybe that will give you some -- ideas."
Jim stripped slowly, carefully folding each item as he removed it, until he stood, naked and hard, before the bed. Planting a hand on each hip, he asked, "See anything you like?"
He nodded. "God, yes. You're beautiful." He looked his fill, admiring the sculpted body. Jim had strong, slim legs, a narrow waist, arms with muscles well defined, but not overly so, and a cock that was perfect, thick and full, but not too much. Just what he needed, what he wanted.
Jim grinned. "Thanks, buddy. Do you want to catch or pitch?"
"What?"
"Top or bottom?" Jim rolled his eyes. "Which do you prefer?"
"I don't know."
Narrowing his eyes, Jim's lips formed a thin line. "Are you kidding me? You're a fucking virgin?" At his wordless reply, Jim scowled. "Get your money and get out."
"No!" He rose, kneeling on the mattress. "I paid you! Now you do what you've been paid to do! Just because you're a prostitute... It doesn't matter. In ancient Egypt, prostitutes were venerated. It was normal for a boy to be taken to a prostitute for his coming-of-age introduction to sex. It made him a better man and a better husband. I need you to show me how it works. I want this."
Jim scowled again, but nodded. "Okay, Chief. I'll show you how it's done." With gentle fingers, Jim undressed him, caressing each inch of skin as it was revealed. Jim didn't fuck him, Jim made love to him. He knew the difference, and this was definitely love. Slowly and carefully, Jim woke his body to pleasures he never knew existed. Until he was crying aloud at the intense feelings that coursed through him, until Jim and he merged, and until he orgasmed twice under Jim's deft hands...
"Jim," Blair muttered, tossing his head. He woke abruptly with Jim's name on his lips. He clamped his hand over his mouth, looking around with shocked eyes. God, had Jim heard? A quick look at Jim's sleeping bag showed that it was empty.
"Jim?" Blair called, terrified that Jim had heard him moaning and calling to him in his sleep and had bolted, disgusted at his outburst. When Jim's head popped into the tent and he smiled, Blair let out a huge sigh of relief.
"Just had to water a tree, Sandburg. You okay?"
Blair grinned, his fear quickly dissipating under Jim's concern. "Yeah. I'm good. When I saw you were gone..." He shrugged.
With a hand on Blair's shoulder, Jim said, "Did you think I'd left you? You know I wouldn't do that. I just went to take a leak. Sometimes I wonder about your thought processes."
"Sometimes I wonder too."
"It's still dark. Go back to sleep."
"Thanks."
Jim harrumphed, making himself comfortable. Blair smiled, relieved that he had his friend beside him once again and returned to sleep.
---------------------------------
Chapter Eighteen
Blair glanced around, making sure that none of their co-workers or any other police personnel were in the immediate vicinity. "Housebreaking?" he said with a laugh. "You make me sound like a damned dog!"
Jim shrugged. "You're the one who makes such a mess! You leave a trail like a hurricane, a path of destruction! But... I have to admit, I was just getting your goat. I hate those plastic covers on furniture."
Blair glared at his roomie before he let his amusement show. "For a second, there, you did have me going. Man, let's get out of here. I'm freezing!"
"Simon said we can hitch a ride back to the mainland with him. After the doctor releases you-"
"What?" Blair interrupted. "Why a doctor?"
"Yeah. Did you forget about your head? You were unconscious for at least three or four minutes. Simon wants you checked out." Jim crossed his arms, the rubber of his wet suit squeaking. "And so do I."
"No way. I'm fine! Besides, I'm starving and all I want is a good hot meal followed by a nice warm bed. No doctors."
"You did a very brave, very stupid thing tonight, Chief."
With a shrug, Blair gave Jim a quick smile. "You too, man. Above and beyond."
Reaching out to pat Blair's cheeks, Jim smiled. "We make a good team."
"Yeah, we do. Partner." Jim waggled a finger in his face, but instead of backing down, Blair grabbed the offending digit in his cold hand. "And we are partners, Jim. You know that."
Looking stern, Jim finally nodded curtly. "Haven't had one since Jack."
"I know," Blair said softly.
Simon's shout interrupted any further conversation. They hurried over to the captain, who tossed each of them a blanket and told them to climb aboard the helicopter for a ride to the mainland. Blair sat in the middle seat, huddled between Simon and Jim's larger bodies. Finally warm, and off his adrenalin high from events on the rig, he drifted to sleep...
The gun waved menacingly in his face. "Strip," the woman ordered. He vehemently shook his head. She cocked the pistol and pressed it to his temple. "Now!"
"Sandburg, do as she says." Jim's voice was cold as ice when he spoke, his gaze locked on hers. His clear blue eyes were as cold as any iceberg in the ocean.
He looked into Jim's face for reassurance. "Jim?" he whispered.
Jim tore his gaze away from their captors. "It's okay, Chief. She's not going to kill us."
"Don't bet on it," she growled, reaching out to rip the towel from around Jim's waist.
Jim stood rigidly, not trying to hide his nakedness. She laughed derisively, licking her lips. "I have to get off this rig and get me a boyfriend." Walking forward a step, she pointed the gun at Jim's crotch. "Now do pretty boy here before I make you a eunuch."
Jim crossed his arms over his chest. "Fuck you."
He saw the furious look she gave Jim before she moved past his naked body, giving Jim a lecherous look. She kept the weapon firmly trained on Jim as she passed him by. Jim's gaze followed her. Very softly, he warned, "Don't you dare touch him!"
He saw the terror flare in Jim's eyes as their gazes met. He turned his head to stare at the woman who now stood inches from him with her gun pressed against his temple. With frightened eyes, he tried to move away. He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could question her, she struck. Pain flared across the back of his head and his vision grayed. He fell to the floor in a heap.
"Sandburg!" He moaned, hearing Jim's voice from far away. "Sandburg!" He'd never heard Jim sound quite so angry. "Why you little bitch!" Jim cried as he felt his partner's large hands gently cradle his head. "Let me look," Jim said, fingers touching his skull.
He cried out when Jim touched the back of his head. "Hurts," he murmured, wincing.
"I know," Jim answered. "Stay down," he added in a whisper.
"I'm -- okay," he said softly. "It's okay, Jim. Just do -- as she says."
"Not going to happen. I wouldn't do that to you. I'd rather die first."
"How sweet," she said coldly. "Well, you might not mind dying, but I'll bet pretty boy here has some objections." She latched onto his hair, pulling it by the roots. "Back off!" He felt Jim move away and a moment later, she shoved the barrel of the gun into his back. "Get up!" she ordered, pulling hard. He cried out, but somehow managed to gain his feet even while she was yanking on his hair. He grunted with pain as he swayed on his feet. Her response to his unsteadiness was to jam the gun barrel even harder into his spine. She cocked the pistol, making him flinch as the small sound echoed in the room. "I'll make him a cripple."
He briefly closed his eyes before he forced them open. He saw his partner standing before them, his hands tightly clenched. "Then you'll have to go through me first."
She gave a disgusted snort. "You make me laugh. When I tried to come onto you, you pushed me away. Same with the professor here. Sure, he wanted to have coffee and spout some intellectual shit, but when it came down to the physical needs I have, you both were more interested in each other than in me! Now I'm just making your dreams come true! Either you screw him now or he never walks again!" She jabbed him again in the back before raising the pistol toward Jim. "Now!"
With wide eyes, he watched as Jim lunged for the gun. He tried to twist away, to throw her off, but she managed to fire toward his partner. He fell to the floor with a hard thump and it was with anguish that he watched Jim hit the floor and lay still, sprawled out, unmoving, as blood poured from the wound to his shoulder.
"Jim!" he screamed, terrified that she was going to put another bullet into his partner.
His cry distracted her and she turned toward him, a satisfied smile playing on her lips. He forced his gaze away from his partner, not sure whether Jim was alive or dead and his fury burned through him. She walked a step closer and he waited. When he was beside him, he let out a theatrical moan. She smirked down at him. When she opened her mouth to speak, he struck.
His hands reached out and grabbed both of her ankles. Putting his weight behind his body, he yanked, pulling her feet out from under her. She crashed to the floor, cracking her head hard. The gun flew from her fingers and skittered across the floor.
He crawled toward his partner, pausing only long enough to grab the gun and throw it behind a large pile of boxes. Barely sparing the unconscious woman a glance, he hurried to his partner's side. He pressed the heel of his hand onto Jim's shoulder wound.
"Jim! Please! Oh man... Jim!"
Jim's eyes fluttered open. "Blair?"
"Right here, man. You're okay. Relax. I'll take care of you."
"Where is she?"
He cocked his head. "Unconscious. Or dead, maybe. I don't care." He pressed harder against Jim's wound, leaning his weight into it to staunch the flow of blood. "We need to get you some help."
"Good idea," Jim said with a grimace. "Hurts like a son of a bitch, but it's not bad. Didn't hit anything vital."
"How can you...? Oh, right. Sorry." He almost smiled. "I'm glad you're alive." He grabbed one of the two towels that Jim had been using, from the floor where they lay in a heap and pressed it onto the shoulder wound. "Hold this. Are you sure? It looks bad."
With what he could only describe as a pleased smirk, Jim held the towel and said, "Yeah, I'm sure. But I was actually looking forward to the "fuck or die" scenario."
Looking at his partner like he'd grown two heads, the only thing he could do was stare at Jim with astonishment. "You've seen too many movies, man. That never happens in real life."
"Oh?" Jim responded with a mischievous smile. "Want to give it a go anyway?"
"Now I know you have a head injury."
"You're the one with the head injury, Sandburg. Help me up." He helped Jim to his feet and with his arm firmly clamped around Jim's naked waist, he led his injured partner to a chair. He looked around, finding the second discarded towel on the floor and and modestly draped it over Jim's lap. "It's not the only head that's interested in you, Sandburg," Jim said wryly.
Ignoring Jim's obvious ramblings, he ordered, "Sit here while I tie her up. Then I'm going to radio for help."
"No one will answer, Sandburg. Remember we're in the middle of a class A storm."
"Oh, right. Then I'll get you to the medic."
"I'd rather you doctored me up. I like your bedside manner a lot better than that medic's."
"Jim, even hurt, you are incorrigible. You need a hospital."
"True, but for now, you're all I've got, and that enough for me..."
"Sandburg!" Simon's firm hand shook Blair roughly.
"What?" he answered, blinking stupidly.
"Out." Simon pointed to the open door of the helicopter, where Jim stood waiting.
"You okay, Chief?" Jim asked, leaning in through the open door.
"Yeah, I'll live. Just tired, I guess."
"Good. Because you have a lot of chores to do once we're home."
With a groan, Blair joined his roommate. "Can I have dinner first?" he asked, trying to keep the hint of a whine from his voice. He could tell from the glare Jim was giving him that he had failed.
"And a shower," Jim said with a disgusted sniff. "Do not sit on the furniture until you change clothes." He turned and started walking away.
Blair followed his partner, muttering, "I liked the "fuck or die" part better."
"What?" Jim asked, looking over his shoulder with one eyebrow arching, a questioning look on his face.
"Nothing, man. Just another weird dream."
"Okay, Sandburg. Let's get that equally weird head of yours checked out so we can get home sometime tonight. There's plenty of time for even more weird dreams in your own bed later on."
---------------------------
Chapter Nineteen
"Your mother get off okay?" Jim asked when Blair walked into the loft.
"Yes, she did. Her plane left right on time. Thank goodness."
"I thought you wanted her to visit."
"I did. I enjoyed the visit a lot, it's just... I really didn't expect her to actually come on to you."
"Sandburg, she was only flirting. Besides, I'm not interested. It would be too -- strange to date your mother. It feels almost like -- incest."
At Jim's grimace, Blair had to laugh. "I actually understand. Men always flock around Naomi. It's been that way since I can remember."
"She's an attractive, confident woman. That attracts a lot of guys."
"You included."
Jim shrugged. "Yeah, but like I said, it would be too uncomfortable."
"I wouldn't have said anything to make you uncomfortable, Jim. If you and she had decided to... You know."
"Not for me, Chief. For you. I knew it would make you uncomfortable."
Blair blinked slowly while Jim's words sank in. "Oh! Gee. Thanks. I appreciate it." He smiled, feeling much better since he'd come home to find Jim and his mother sprawled on Jim's bed, eating tongue and looking at his childhood pictures. "When I came home, I kind of thought... Sorry."
Jim smiled and walked over to Blair, putting a hand on his shoulder. "I wanted to see the pictures because I'm interested in you, Sandburg. Not in your mother. You're my friend, and I wanted to know what you were like as a kid."
"Really? That's kind of -- nice." Blair rocked back on his heels, hands in his pockets. He returned Jim's smile with one of his own. Jim gave a chuckle before he grabbed his jacket from the coat hook.
"You going out?" Blair asked.
"Yeah. Simon called. Rafe has the flu, and they need a relief on the stakeout over at the old brewery. There's a solid lead on that shipment of spare parts, and Simon wants this guy busted ASAP."
"Want company?"
"Sure. If you want to be bored senseless for the next eight hours, and drink cold coffee. Not to mention freezing your butt off."
"I couldn't think of a better way to spend my time."
"Come on, then. We'll drive though Mannie's and pick up something to eat. My treat."
Three hours later, with the Philly cheese steak sub and the hot coffee happily settled in his stomach, Blair leaned against the door of Jim's truck and drifted off to sleep with Jim's soft breathing in sync with his own...
"I haven't seen a movement or heard a thing for six hours, Sandburg. This is definitely a boring stakeout." Jim rubbed his eyes tiredly.
"Coffee?"
"No, thanks. If I drink another ounce, I'll go into a caffeine coma."
He snickered softly. "When's the relief scheduled to take over?"
Jim hit the small light on his watch. "One hour, forty-two minutes. Just enough time."
"Enough time?"
"Yeah," Jim said softly, sliding over toward him. "I know why you came along, Chief. Isn't it about time you admitted it to me?"
"Admitted what?" he asked innocently.
"How you feel?"
"Jim, man, what are you talking about? How I feel about what?"
Jim moved even closer until their thighs touched. "How you feel about me."
When Jim pressed himself yet closer, he gasped, "Aren't you supposed... to be... Jim!" Warm lips touched his ear before an even warmer tongue flicked into the shell. "Hey!"
"Relax, Sandburg. The guy's still in his office, sawing logs. He's not going anywhere. And I'm tuned in, just in case."
"God, Jim!" he said with a sigh when Jim's lips latched onto his ear lobe and sucked on the ticklish flesh. He wiggled his shoulders at the delightful feeling. "What's gotten into you?"
"I hope you will."
He turned his face toward Jim, blinking in the dim light. "You hope I will?" he echoed.
"You seem surprised," Jim murmured, laying a gentle trail of kisses along his jawline before a finger directed his face toward Jim's. The feather-light touch of his partner's lips against his had him moaning softly.
"I've been hoping for a while now, but..." His words were lost when his lover's mouth captured his. He closed his eyes, slipping his hand around Jim's neck, fingering the short hairs there. "Hmmmm," he murmured, parting his lips in invitation.
Jim grinned against his mouth. "I thought you'd never ask," Jim said breathlessly.
"Oh, I'm asking. Definitely."
"And I'm answering..."
"Answer that, Chief."
"Huh? What?" Blair muttered, blinking the sleep from his eyes.
"Your phone. It's ringing. Or should I say, it's vibrating. I can feel it clear over here. The entire seat is shaking. It's probably your mother. She wants to make sure you're not still hanging with jack-booted thugs like me."
"Jim, there's nobody else I'd rather hang with. Guess I'd better get fitted for my own boots." With Jim's quiet laugh echoing in his ear, he answered his phone.
----------------------------
Chapter Twenty
"Man, I'm wet clear through to my underwear," Blair groused, shaking his head.
"Hey! Watch it. Just because you're dripping wet doesn't mean I have to be." Jim held up a hand to avoid the worst of the water flying through the air.
"Sorry," he said dejectedly. "Guess I'm all screwed up tonight."
Jim's face took on a softer look. "No, it's me who's sorry. I should have seen that coming."
"What? How in the hell could you have known that Maya was playing us?" Blair gave a snort. "I'm such an idiot."
"No more than me. I fell for it also. Hell, everybody deserves a second chance. She blew hers big time. Her loss." With Jim tugging on his arm, he followed until they reached their apartment.
"Her loss?" he echoed.
Jim nodded. "Yeah. You're a nice guy. Smart, kind of okay looking..." Jim gave Blair a smirk. "Really. Hard working. Her loss. You deserve better."
"Geez, Jim. Thanks..."
"Save it. Just telling it like it is." While they both shed their wet shoes, Jim said, "Go and take the first shower. You're the one who was hurt. Not to mention cold and wet, and afterward, I want to change that bandage on your forehead for a clean one."
Blair looked up into Jim's warm eyes with a small smile as he leaned on the wall to untie the wet laces on his shoes. His partner was being really considerate tonight, almost as if he cared. Blair smiled to himself. "Thanks."
"It will get better, Chief. Trust me on that," Jim called to Blair's retreating figure.
"I know," he responded over his shoulder. After he'd gathered clean sweats, he went into the bathroom and turned on the taps. Letting the steam build, he used the john before he climbed under the hot spray. With a relieved sigh, he closed his eyes...
"Move over, Chief."
"Wondered how long it would take before you joined me," he murmured approvingly. "God!" he cried when Jim's warm body pressed against his back, the already hard cock nudging his crack. He spread his legs, moaning softly when Jim's strong hands tugged him back until he leaned against the toned body. His lover's fingers stroked his furry chest and toyed with each nipple, making him wiggle at the playful touch. "I love when you touch me."
"Love touching you, Blair," Jim whispered, kissing the outside of his ear. "Love everything about you."
Jim's hand examined his cock thoroughly. A gentle fingernail stroked down his length, making him shudder. A tip of a finger tickled the slit before moving again along the thick flesh to fondle and lightly roll his balls with a firm hand.
"Jim!"
"Shhh. I'll take care of you. Just relax."
Nodding, he leaned back, letting Jim's strong arm across his chest hold him up while his partner's strong hand pleasured him. He kept his eyes closed, biting his lip while the sensations coursed through his body. The familiar feeling curled in his belly. When his lover's voice encouraged quietly, "Come for me, Blair," his mouth fell open and he orgasmed over Jim's fingers. "Nice... very nice."
He almost preened at the approval in his lover's voice. "Jim. God, I love you!" He sighed happily, relaxing in the strong embrace before he turned and said, "My turn..."
"Sandburg! Come on, buddy. It's been half an hour. It's my turn."
Blair blinked dazedly, his hand on his limp cock. "Sorry, Jim! I'll be right out!" he called, quickly turning off the water. Grabbing his towel and briskly rubbing his body, he added, "I think I was zoned!" He could hear Jim's chuckle through the closed door, and he had to smile. "I'll fix us something to eat," he said while he pulled on his sweats, "while you take your shower." He yanked the door open.
Jim gave him a fond exasperated shake of the head. "You're such a dork."
Blair grinned. "Yeah, I know. Tomato soup and grilled cheese okay?"
"Definitely. I want mustard on my sandwich."
"It will be ready by the time you're done." His smile never faded the whole time he fixed dinner for himself and his partner.
--------------------------------------
Chapter Twenty-One
"Things are never as black or white as we want them to be." Jim looked over at Blair, who looked back with a raised eyebrow.
"Care to expound on that?" Blair asked.
"Well, take us."
"Us? How's that?"
"We're as different as black and white. I'm a cop. I'm ex-military."
"And I'm a hippie throwback to the sixties."
"Exactly. And we seem to have found a way to cohabitate peacefully."
"True," Blair said, thoughtfully chewing on his bottom lip. "We do seem to have found our middle ground. We both like a lot of the same things."
"Basketball. Cuban food."
"Women."
Jim laughed. "Sometimes."
Blair turned wide eyes toward Jim. "Sometimes?" He almost choked on the word.
"Yeah. I mean, we all look."
Blair frowned before he asked, "Look at what?"
Jim snorted. "Geez, Chief. You are so damned funny sometimes. Men, of course."
"Men?" This time his voice did break, making Jim laugh.
"What? You've never -- played for the other side?"
"And you're telling me you have?" Blair demanded, his eyes narrowing at Jim's obvious astonishment at his innocence.
"A gentleman never tells. Unlike some people I know, I avoid obfuscations and/or that male bonding ritual, which you call B.S. I call it bullshit. Might as well call it as I see it, Chief."
"You don't believe in B.S.?" Blair asked, wishing he had a pen to take notes.
"I believe in the truth."
"Me, too. I was just spouting bullshit myself back there."
Jim turned to glance at him briefly before his eyes returned to the road. "I expect no less of you, Sandburg."
Blair smiled. "You have my promise."
"So how about we go and shoot some baskets?"
"It's a date."
---------------------
After the harrowing week they'd had with the church bombings, Blair was more than ready for some down time. He was happy that Jim had suggested that they relieve some of the week's tensions by playing for a while. He and Jim shot baskets for about an hour before they were tagged for a game of pickup with some of the local guys who hung out at the ball park. They joined the group for pizza and beer and finally dragged themselves home by nine, tired but happy. By ten, they were both showered and in their beds. Blair relived tonight's basketball game, and his favorite part was how Jim and he played together. They were such a great team, he felt.
He loved how Jim looked as they played. Jim -- sweaty and serious, his eyes flashing blue fire as he signaled his partner to fake to the left seconds before he'd send the ball to the right. Blair nodded minutely, feigning the motion before his quick feet went right. The ball landed firmly in his hands, and he dribbled forward two steps before he jumped from the three-point line to drop the ball through the net, and clinched the game. Jim had been jubilant, sweeping him from the floor in a bear hug. He'd grinned so much that he was sure his face would have permanent lines. And with a smile, he fell asleep with visions of Jim flitting through his subconscious...
"Truth or dare!" he said, grinning toward his partner.
"What?" Jim answered, glaring at him.
"I called truth or dare."
"Sandburg," Jim said with exasperation, "I'm not ten."
"Chicken," he muttered. "You're the one who asked about what happened to telling the truth." He crossed his arms, staring out the side window.
"Ask your question."
He turned toward Jim and with a grin, he said, "Truth. Have you ever slept with a man?"
"No."
"Oh." Not the answer he'd been expecting.
"My turn. Dare."
When Jim didn't go on, he leaned forward in his seat belt. "It's your turn."
Jim glanced over before he looked forward. "Dare. I dare you to give me a blow job."
"What?" he said loudly. "No way!"
"I win."
"Hang on a sec. Are you serious?"
He couldn't decipher the expression on Jim's face, but his partner did nod and he said decisively, "Totally."
Swallowing hard, he paused. Why was he hesitating? He'd wanted Jim for months now, and this was the open door that he'd been looking for, hoping for. Jim wouldn't have dared him unless he wanted this. Unless Jim was obfuscating, giving him a line of bullshit to see the lengths to which he was willing to go to win. What if he agreed to the dare and his friend kicked him out on his ass? What if he didn't agree to the dare and Jim still kicked him out on his ass? He considered the alternatives when he reached the obvious conclusion: take the dare. At least he'd have his mouth on his partner's cock once in his life.
"When and where?"
"Some place neutral... Morrison's Point."
"Lover's Lane?"
"Got a problem with that?" Jim asked, a pleased smirk on his face. When he shook his head, Jim added, "Now."
"Okay," he whispered.
Jim pressed on the accelerator, which made him further examine Jim's request. Apparently, from the speed with which his partner was driving, this was something that he was anticipating.
"Why don't you use the siren and lights?" he quipped.
"Good idea," Jim responded, reaching for the toggle on the truck's dashboard.
He let out a gasp and quickly clamped a hand around Jim's wrist. "You wouldn't!"
Jim grinned. "Just kidding."
"Asshole."
"Nah. Just a blow job."
"Jim!" he said, shocked at the blatant words.
Jim snickered, pulling into the side road that lead to Morrison's Point. He glanced around. "We have the entire place to ourselves," he said, pulling into the wide, tire-track filled area. Jim gave another perusal of the area before turning off the truck and leaning back against his door. This partner snaked an arm along the back of the seat and stretched out his long legs. "I'm all yours, little buddy."
He rolled his eyes. "Smart ass."
His fingers reached for Jim's fly, and when they touched the tab on the zipper, Jim said, "Careful."
Nodding, he tugged on the zipper pull. Nothing happened, so he tugged again before he yanked.
"Sandburg!" Jim complained.
"It's stuck...!"
"Sandburg!" Blair's eyes flew open. Jim stood in the doorway, dressed in his boxers, holding out a pair of pants. "It's stuck!"
Blair glanced at the alarm before he practically launched himself from the bed. "Oh shit! Damn it! I thought I hit the snooze! I must have turned off the damned thing instead."
"We're definitely going to be late. Simon will kill us, and I have absolutely no problem throwing you to the wolves." While Blair raced around, grabbing clean clothes, Jim held out the khakis toward Blair again, stating helplessly, "It's still stuck!"
Blair stopped in his tracks, staring at the pants before he started to giggle. The giggles dissolved into laughter and soon, he was laughing so hard that he'd collapsed back onto his bed, holding his stomach.
Jim gave him a disgusted glare before he threw the pants onto Blair, who plucked at the material with shaking fingers.
"Move it, Sandburg," Jim growled, stalking from the room amid Blair's gales of laughter.
"Sorry, man," Blair called after him, hiccuping. "I'll fix the pants. Just... give me a sec." Working on the uncooperative zipper, Blair couldn't help but continue to chuckle at the strangeness of his unconscious mind. "You're heading for the loony bin, Blair," he told himself before the laughter started back up again.