Work Text:
Apache snippet
by Shedoc
I don't own them pet fly does (unless santa wants to put them in my stocking?)
please stop sending the death threats I promise to never ever leave you hanging again <sniffle, giggle author sticks her tongue out>
This story is a sequel to: Apache 2
Jim looked up as his partner strolled into the huge library. The murdered woman in the other room was being taken out to the morgue - they'd already looked the scene over in detail, and then the Sentinel had followed an unusual scent out to the library. It was full of all sorts of books - great leather bound tomes sat beside battered paperbacks. Works of great artistry lay tossed atop trashy fiction. All the books looked well read. There were bookmarks and slips of paper in every one of them.
"The Professor sure was eclectic in her tastes," Jim held up a copy of Tintin and Blair grinned, taking the book to flip through it quickly.
"This is the one where the artist changes Tintin's character a little," Blair told his partner, "He starts wearing different clothes and is a little more hard line in some of his actions. He also supports the peace movement."
"How did I know you'd know something about this?" Jim shook his head and reached for a leather bound book, pulling it out and putting it in his lap.
"Did you isolate that scent?" Blair reminded his lover and Jim grinned at him.
"Yeah, it was a mouse," he shook his head, "I want your copy of the witness interview by the end of shift, Chief."
Blair groaned and rolled his eyes, whopping Jim's shoulder lightly before coming closer in concern when his partner choked.
"You ok?" Blair asked and Jim nodded, a slight blush on his cheeks. He held up the book in explanation. It wasn't a true book - more a leather bound collection of women's porn mags that the magazine did out once a year - all their editions in one volume. He scanned the shelves and spotted several more.
"Oh..." Blair chuckled and flipped through the covers, "Hey! I'm in this one!"
"You're in what?" Simon asked from the doorway. Jim missed his grab for the book as Simon made a long arm and plucked it from the young detectives hands. The captain choked and looked up at his subordinate in horror.
"Not a centrefold?" he pleaded and Blair nodded, shrugging.
"It's no big deal, Simon. Nothing distasteful. I've got a copy at home somewhere too," he moved away, perusing the shelves to get an idea of what else was in the room. Simon looked at Jim, and then handed the book back to his detective who promptly hid it behind several translations of Chaucer.
There was a ruckus at the front door as the Professors husband arrived and promptly confessed to murdering his wife. He'd wanted a divorce so he could marry his lover the male aerobics instructor. Blair winced in pity for the victim and took down the details.
Blair smiled to himself as Jim left their warm bed and snuck downstairs into Blair's office. Ever since he'd mentioned the centrefold Jim had been...hovering. His Sentinel had wanted to ask about the picture, but at the same time didn't. Blair wasn't sure why, but he knew enough to let Jim approach this in his own way. He'd left the magazine out on his shelves for Jim to find after dinner.
They'd made long slow love to each other and Blair had let the afterglow carry him to a state near to meditation. Jim had waited for two hours, not moving at all to ensure that Blair was asleep, almost foiling Blair's plan.
He stretched his own hearing carefully, not moving at all to avoid disturbing Jim. He could hear a faint rustling of paper and then the squeak of the futon as Jim sat on it. A quiet noise, which Blair realised was the flipping of pages and then silence. He slid from the bed and padded down the stairs silently, peeking around the French doors. Jim was sitting on the folded up futon, staring at the picture avidly, lust and love etched on his face, his beautiful cock half hard in response to what he was admiring.
Blair entered the room and Jim jumped guiltily.
"Chief," his face flushed and his eyes dropped. His shoulders hunched miserably and he put the magazine down carefully.
"Jim? What's wrong, love?" Blair hurried to touch his Sentinel and watched the man flinch as if from a blow.
"I'm sorry," Jim hung his head, "I just wanted to see it. I do respect you, I love you, but I just wanted to see the picture."
Understanding dawned and Blair flipped the magazine open to his centrefold, putting it back in Jim's hands and then curling up beside him.
"You can look - I put it out so you would find it," Blair kissed Jim's shoulder, his arm snaking about the other man's waist, "I'm not ashamed of it. Do you like the picture? Does it embarrass you?"
"You're a god," Jim breathed, "It's beautiful."
"Thank you," Blair smiled, "I enjoyed doing it. I felt beautiful making this. And I'm pleased that you like it - I know that you respect me and I know that you love me. A bit of lust won't kill our happiness. I lust over you all the time."
Jim's cock was hard now and Blair snuck his free hand into Jim's lap, touching with reverence and love, tenderly bringing pleasure to the man he loved. His partner gasped and shivered before leaning into Blair's body, his eyes fixed on the picture.
"It was summer," Blair smiled, "I'd been working on my tan and they wanted to show that off - they took me up to a place in the National Park and asked me to strip down. Then they oiled me up with baby oil and helped me sit up on that rock. The sun was so hot, and the hike had been steep in the last part so I was happy to stretch out for a moment. I leaned back on my hands and lifted my face up to the sun and the photographer took the picture. The sun felt so good on my skin - I was warm and there was a little breeze wandering over my rock that kept me from getting too hot. My skin was tingling from the oil and the heat and I just leaned back and soaked it all up..."
Jim gasped and came carefully holding the magazine out of harms way. Blair rescued it while milking the last of his lover's orgasm and then nuzzled into Jim's temple, holding his lover close until the tremors subsided.
End Apache snippet by Shedoc: [email protected]
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Disclaimer: The Sentinel is owned etc. by Pet Fly, Inc. These pages and the
stories on them are not meant to infringe on, nor are they endorsed by, Pet Fly, Inc. and Paramount.