Chapter Text
Due to length, this story has been split into three parts.
Time Does Not Bring Relief
By Kadru
Author's homepage: http://www.mindspring.com/~kadru/index.html
Disclaimers: Blair, Jim, Simon, Rafe and Naomi are all characters belonging to Pet Fly Productions and UPN. I'm only using their characters for fun, entertainment and fantasy. I repeat: no profit! Ian Yoshito, Collin McPherson, Bass Sanders, Didion Sachs and Lee Whitmore are all my creations. They are borrowed from other fictions and I will chase after you if you hurt them. As for the big band song lyrics during the chi-chi dinner party, I have no idea who wrote them, but they don't belong to me either.
Notes: "Time" is a murder mystery. Ergo, someone dies. It's a minor character, so don't panic. If I can pull this off, you won't know who did it until the end. I make many references to the "Loving" series, so I guess it would help if you've read those. They are on my site if you haven't. I hope everyone has enough patience with me while I finish the next two segments. This is major experimentation for me! Be gentle!!!
As for some background information: There are many references to the serial bombings in Atlanta and Birmingham. The first bomb occurred in Centennial Park in Atlanta during the Olympics. The FBI accused Richard Jewell and then later retracted it; Mr. Jewell sued everything that moved and he and his family are now independently wealthy. A second bomb exploded outside of an abortion clinic in Buckhead, then a third outside of a gay bar in Midtown. The last bomb struck an abortion clinic in Birmingham, Alabama.
Huge thank you's to my beta's: Rie and Russ, without whom this would be a nasty ole mess!
Time wise -- this takes place before Megan Connor joins the force.
Summary: Collin's past comes back to haunt Jim and Blair as two strangers arrive in Cascade determined to separate them.
Warnings: extreme violence, extreme language, and some dirty parts thrown in. Major angst factor.
Time Does Not Bring Relief -- part one
By Kadru
"Hold my hand," Blair whispered to Jim as they walked together down the dark, empty street. The night rain had stopped, and puddles reflected ribbons of blue and orange against the road and buildings.
Jim hesitated. "I . . . It's probably not a good idea, Chief. Somebody might see us."
Blair held out his hand. "Oh, come on. There's, like, no one out here to see us. It's too late at night."
But Jim shied away from his touch, keeping his hands in his pockets. Not fighting it, Blair took a deep breath, smelling the fresh scent of rain and feeling the dampness around him. "It's so warm tonight," he said, spinning around slowly. "It reminds me of when I lived in New Orleans."
"I didn't know you lived there."
"When I was a kid, we stayed there for a while, until one summer it got so hot and we couldn't stand it any more. We were renting this old mansion in the Garden District dirt cheap. The walls were falling down and there was mold everywhere, but gods, I loved it there. We had this great porch, and gardenias bloomed in the backyard and huge magnolias. But the rain, man, the rain was like so cool. Not like it is here. Great big raindrops with thunder. . . and it was warm. We would . . ." Blair started laughing. "We would run outside, Naomi and I, and we would dance in the rain together." He looked over at Jim.
Jim apparently didn't hear him. Instead, he scanned the street, sniffing the wind.
"Hey, Jim, what's up with you, man?"
Jim said nothing.
"Hello? Jim? I'm like talking to you, here."
He held up his hand to silence his guide.
"What? What is it?"
"Something . . . something's wrong, Chief."
The gurgling snarl behind Blair made the young man's stomach hurt from fear. Snapping around, Blair saw a large black dog, as high as his waist, materialize from the darkness. He couldn't recognize the breed as it circled him, separating him from Jim. It had the sharp snout of a doberman but the heavy body of a mastiff. In the dim light, Blair could see the sharp white teeth and the reflection of the street lamps in its eyes. "Jim?"
But Jim was backing away from it with his hands held up defensively.
"Jim!"
Suddenly the animal leapt at Blair, knocking him to the wet asphalt. It growled once, and Blair watched helplessly as it opened its jaws and lunged for his throat. The pain burned as each canine punctured his skin, but the sudden jerk at his adam's apple stopped his heart. His breath was snatched away. He sucked in desperately for air, and the sickening sensation of hot wetness flooded his lungs. Blair screamed, but all he could hear was the thick bubble of blood.
Blair jerked straight up. Darkness surrounded him. He felt hands grip his shoulders and he shouted.
"Whoa, calm down," a soft voice spoke.
"You left me!"
The room fell silent before the hand tried again. "It was just a dream, Chief."
"You . . . left me."
Jim pulled him close, sighing with defeat. These nighmares had been torturing Blair for weeks now, and each time he woke up, he had accused Jim of leaving him. By the third night of such accusations, Jim's own personal demons had begun to haunt him. /I don't understand what's going on. Every night it's the same. What . . . what am I doing wrong?/ Jim rubbed his lover's back. "Blair, honey, it was just a dream. I wouldn't do that to you." Yet even as he said it, Jim felt as if he had just lied. In truth, he worried about it constantly. /Can he sense it?/ Jim had left his first lover when he feared he was putting them both in danger. Now, every day he entered the station with the secret of their new relationship shadowing him, he felt that same anxiety. Sometimes he wondered if the fear that he would leave Blair was becoming greater than the fear that Blair would get hurt. "Come on. Lie back down. I've got you."
He kissed Blair on the neck, and Blair instantly squirmed free.
"Sorry," Jim muttered. "It that where it got you this time?" In the darkness, he could see Blair nod and wipe his face. The room stank with his fear. Each night it was the same, and now Jim didn't even ask what the nightmare was about. "Blair?" Jim began as he nestled close again. "I promise you, on everything holy . . . if I ever see a huge black dog even think about coming near you, I'm going to blow his fucking head off and ask questions later."
Blair broke into a nervous laugh.
"I'm serious."
Blair sensed the viciousness in his voice. "Damn, Jim, which of us are they going to commit first? Me? Or you for killing half the dogs in Cascade?" After a long silence, Blair snuggled back into his embrace and said, "Jim, did I ever tell you about the time I lived in New Orleans?"
And Jim replied softly, "No. Tell me about it." As Blair talked, Jim drew circles on the younger man's skin with his fingertip.
The next day was a lazy September Saturday. Jim had hassled Blair about chores all morning. In a way, it relaxed Blair a little to hear Jim bark out his house rules like old times, underscoring for them both that even though they now shared the same bed, nothing had really changed between them. After a quick lunch of sandwiches, Blair started on a recipe another grad student had given him for soup which took most of the afternoon to cook.
Jim stared at the stack of vegetables piled on the island. "How much soup are you planning to make there, Chief?"
"Enough to last us for a while. Recipe says it freezes well." For at least half an hour, there was no communication in the loft as Blair chopped vegetables.
Then, even with his normal hearing and even with the sounds of Jim's Steely Dan cd playing, Blair clearly heard Jim's "God damnit!" coming from the balcony. Trying not to laugh, Blair covered the pot of soup and turned down the heat. He stepped over to the doorway of the balcony with his lips pressed tight to keep from smiling.
Jim sat with his back against the window and a large, round terracotta pot at his feet. Black potting soil speckled his hands, but Jim still pressed his fingers to his forehead, leaving dark stripes on his face. His other hand, propped on his knee, held a dirty trowel. Coming around, Blair sat on his heels in front of him, said nothing, but waited for Jim's jaw muscles to unclench. After a while, Jim tossed the trowel to the side in frustration. Again, not saying anything, Blair simply raised one eyebrow in a question. Jim sighed, then mumbled, "It doesn't look like it does in the book." He pointed to the picture of evergreens and ivy spilling from a moss-greened pot.
Blair smiled. "Jim, don't. You know the plants in that book are old. They've probably been in that pot for years. You can't make it look like that in one day." Picking up the trowel, Blair carefully removed the dwarf conifer and ivy from the pot and set them aside. He moved in closer so that the large pot sat between them, their legs surrounding it. Scanning the book quickly, Blair asked, "Did you put gravel in the bottom?"
"Yes," Jim answered defensively, but Blair didn't let that bother him. He read on.
"Did you put the slow-release fertilizer in?"
Jim rolled his eyes. "Damnit. See, I forgot that. How am I supposed to do this? Why is it supposed to help?"
Calmly, Blair answered, "Because gardening is a form of prayer and meditation." He reached for the small bag of fertilizer pellets. "You take slow movements, and you keep your breathing even." He poured the fertilizer into the soil, then reached for Jim's hands. The moist soil felt gritty against Jim's warm skin, and Blair smiled, his blue eyes sweet and gentle. Seeing this, Jim began to relax the muscles in his jaw. Blair twined their fingers together until their knuckles locked, and together their hands dipped into the soft earth, folding the fertilizer into it. The erotic feel of Blair's fingers mixing with the soil calmed Jim even more, and he felt a little cheated when the fertilizer was thoroughly blended and Blair pulled away. "Now, the ivy goes on the outside." Blair scooped out a place, and Jim dropped the plant into the hole. Together, they smoothed the soil flat around it. They continued, planting the rest of the ivy, then started on the dwarf conifer for the center of the pot. Once the job was done, both of their hands were dark and muddy.
Blair reached out and cupped Jim's face, smearing it with dirt. Smiling, Jim reached out and did the same, pulling Blair over the pot and kissing him, their lips teasing each other, then their soft tongues entered each other's mouths. After a moment of this tender affection, Blair whispered, "Better?"
"Better." He kissed him again.
"I hate to do this, but I've got a lot of soup to make." Blair looked over his shoulder at the rows of terracotta pots that lined the balcony. Jim didn't have a lot of time to garden this year because they had started too late. For that reason, Blair had convinced him to grow herbs instead. He kissed Jim again. "And we still have a dinner party to go to."
When Blair tried to stand, Jim pulled him back down. Taking another kiss, he said, "Thank you."
Blair traced a dirty finger along Jim's jaw. "Now don't get all mushy on me, tough guy. When you're done, how about cutting me some fresh basil and oregano?"
"Yes sir."
While Ian worked in the kitchen, Collin knelt in front of the cd player, his long auburn hair falling into his face. The weather had yet to turn chilly, but they had placed rows of lit candles in the fireplace. As Collin flipped through cd after cd, he couldn't help but snicker to himself. /Ian just can't not buy a cd./ Just then, the intercom by the front door buzzed.
Ian crossed from his kitchen, past the dining room and towards the door, wiping his hands with a dish towel as he went. Collin watched him from the sunken lounge, admiring the tall, lean body of his Japanese lover. They had started dating when Ian had returned from Europe, three months before. Blair had introduced them. Now, as he watched Ian standing at the intercom in his tight, faded jeans and flannel shirt, he thought, /Thank god Blair got distracted and left him behind./ Then he noticed, as he usually did, Ian's shirt-sleeves buttoned at the wrist and hiding the scars. /He still won't talk to me about it./ That clawed at Collin's sense of security a little. /He doesn't trust me. Or maybe he doesn't want to scare me./ Then Collin sighed. /Have you told him anything about your past, yet?/ He always asked himself that question whenever he felt bad about Ian's secrecy. /No, you haven't. So cut him some slack. Besides, he's always so positive and up-beat. He's not depressed or anything. He just doesn't want to think about bad times. You should at least sympathize with that./
Ian's thick British accent broke Collin's train of thought. "No, I'll be right down," he said to the doorman. "Have them wait for me. I need to pick up the mail anyway." He looked over at Collin. "I'll be back in a second."
/You always are,/ Collin thought with a smile. /You always are./ The door closed and he returned to looking through the cd's. /Will you be, Collin? Will you always be back?/ Collin tried to shake the thoughts. He knew Ian scared the hell out of him, and he was trying to deal with it. Blair was just being kind when he introduced him to Ian -- Collin had never even told Blair about his past. And then Ian had pursued him, hard -- with all the flowers and poems and simple considerations that Collin had always wanted in a romance. Before he had realized what was happening, he had fallen for Ian with an intensity he hadn't known since his life in Atlanta.
Collin dropped a cd as if it had burned his fingers and he stood up quickly, shaking his hands. /God damnit, Coll, that was almost three years ago! Get a grip on yourself. Ian's a good guy and he's obviously in love with you. Accept what happened in Atlanta as a mistake and learn from it!/ He stood motionless, breathing deep to calm himself. /Now, Jim and Blair will be up here any second, so calm down./
He crossed to the kitchen and pulled out two beers from the refrigerator for when they walked in.
The door opened almost immediately, and he watched the three men as they came in, laughing. Blair waved from the doorway and immediately walked towards the kitchen. He had pulled his hair back into a ponytail, which made Collin smile. /He told me once he likes to do that when he wants to look 'dressed up.'/ He wore a sweater over a flannel shirt. "Feeling cold already?" Collin asked with a soft drawl as he handed him an opened beer.
Blair reached out for Collin's arm and tugged at the sleeve of his own sweater. "You're one to talk."
"But I'm a hot-house flower. What's your excuse? Here, I've got a beer ready for you, Jim." He pointed to the bottle on the counter when Jim entered the kitchen.
Jim smiled. "Now this, Chief, is a host."
Collin smirked, then added, "I would hope my ancestors would be proud. You're both late."
Jim replied, "We would have been here on time if we hadn't been stuck behind all those southerners who moved up here, driving like they were back in South Carolina." Jim reached for his beer.
But Collin casually pulled the beer away from his reach and took a deep swallow from it, staring at the detective as he did so with one eyebrow arched. Then he set the beer out of reach. Jim looked at him with a confused expression. "You were saying?" Collin asked.
Jim stood motionless with his hand still outstretched and his mouth open. Laughing, Blair handed Jim his own beer. "Gods, Jim, when are you going to learn to never make fun of the man with the beer?"
Smiling, Collin reached into the refrigerator and pulled out another beer for Blair. "Leave him alone, Blair. I'll turn Jim into a smart ass, yet."
"He doesn't need your help," Blair said. "Trust me on this."
"I thought you guys hadn't moved in together yet," Jim commented.
"No, not yet."
Ian stepped into the kitchen, kissed Collin on the cheek, just above his short beard, and said, "Be a good host and get these fellows out of my kitchen."
"You heard the man," Collin said immediately, waving his hands. "Move 'em out!"
"Oh, Coll," Ian interrupted, "something arrived for you in the post."
"Mail? Here?"
Ian just nodded with a smile.
"How did anyone know to send it here?"
"I don't know."
After a pause, Collin added in a whisper, "Ian, I hope you don't think I gave someone this address."
Ian looked at him for a moment, trying to guess his motives. "That doesn't bother me."
"I know. I just didn't want you to think I was doing that behind your back."
Ian placed his hand against Collin's jaw, then kissed him on the lips. "You said you wanted us to date for a year before we talked about moving in together. And I think that's a good idea. Besides, I know you love me, and I love you, too. We talk to each other several times a day and we spend most of our time together. Think of this letter as a good omen. Now, go on. Jim and Blair are sitting by themselves."
Collin smiled, but Ian couldn't know about the subtle feeling of pain in Collin's chest. He kissed Ian, deeply, then walked to the counter to see this letter. Once he read the return address, he relaxed a little. "Oh I get it," he said.
"What?" Ian asked.
"It's from my cousin. He's always showing off. I told him we were seeing each other, so he must have tracked down your address and sent something to me here." Even so, Collin was a little mistrustful. /Just what the hell are you up to, cousin?/ He opened the letter and began to read. Suddenly, he folded the letter and stuffed it as quickly as he could back into the envelope. He pushed the letter into his back pocket, forced a polite smile, then stepped toward the sofa where Jim and Blair sat. But Ian saw the reaction and had to repress the urge to say something.
Later that night, after dinner while everyone was drinking coffee, Jim leaned over the table towards Ian and asked, "Now, tell me again why I have to go to this party next weekend?" Jim toyed with the engraved, ivory-colored invitation.
"Jim," Blair warned.
Ian just smiled. "You don't have to go, Jim. I just thought it would be a good idea if you went."
"So do I," Blair added.
"Eric and Carl's parties are infamous and very hard to get into. They have very strict rules as to who can be invited."
Jim looked at the invitation. "Why does it say, 'Family members only'?"
Then Collin laughed. "Oh, come on, Jim. Surely you've heard of 'family'."
"Yeah, I have, and it usually involves organized crime."
Blair touched his arm. "It means 'gay'."
"But we aren't--" Jim stopped when Blair arched his eyebrow. "Well? Are we?"
"We aren't the media's stereotype, that's for sure. But I think sleeping together every night pretty much makes us 'members of the family'."
"Fine. Do we still have to go to this?"
"Jim," Ian broke in, "you would be surprised who will be there. There will be many people from city hall. I know you'll recognize some of the guests there. As I said, Eric and Carl have very strict rules. Those of us who receive invitations can only invite other gays or lesbians, and they need to be involved in improving the community. I think that means you and Blair. It's more networking than anything else. And it's a chance for us to be who we are in a protected environment."
"Jim," Blair said, "all that aside. I want to go."
"Fine. I'll go. But just how semi-formal is 'semi-formal'?"
Ian answered, "Coat and tie."
"Oh, come on! You want me to wear a coat and tie on a Saturday night?!"
All three of them answered at once, "Yes!"
"All right! All right!"
Collin slipped away. Ian saw him leave, and he pulled at Blair's elbow. "Will you check on Collin for me?"
"Is something up?"
"I think that letter upset him for some reason."
Blair stepped out onto the balcony and moved to Collin's side. The wind whipped Collin's hair across his face, and he had to drag it back with his hand. "Is it too cold for you, Blair?"
"Not yet. What about you?"
"I'm fine."
"Why are you out here?"
Collin shrugged his shoulders. He pointed to the city lights. "Just reminding myself why I moved out here."
"Why?"
"Don't know, really. Something about this place . . . spoke to me. The dark water. The mountains." He laughed softly. "Do you know, when I first landed in Seattle however many years ago, I saw the Cascades and thought the snow on them were clouds. I embarrassed myself by saying, 'Those clouds haven't moved all day.'" He sighed. "You know, I could drive for two hours and still not make it to Mount Rainier. That's just . . . remarkable."
"Hmm," Blair muttered, then asked, "So why tonight? Why do you need reminding?" With obvious gestures, he looked down at the letter stuffing Collin's back pocket.
Collin twisted slightly to see the letter, too. "That's a letter from my cousin Bass."
"Bass?"
"Short for Sebastian."
"Why did it upset you?"
"Upset? Oh, I'm not upset."
"Yes you are."
"No, I love Bass to death. He and I went to school together." He added with excitement, "The thought of Bass and I living in the same city again . . ." Then he became quiet, thinking back to older times. "Well, maybe I am a little down."
"Wanna talk about it?"
"It's nothing. Bass is a really great guy. You'll love him. He has a degree in philosophy and a mind like a steel trap. It's just . . ."
"It's just what?"
"His goddamn ogre of a fucking boyfriend," Collin snapped. "I hate that son of a bitch. He just makes my skin crawl. He keeps Bass down, has so totally ruined his self-esteem. If I didn't know any better, I'd say he still hits Bass." He looked at Blair. "He's . . . he's one of the reasons I moved here."
"Shit, man. Is he . . ."
"Is he moving, too? Yes. The man's a fucking psychopath, that's for sure, but what makes it worse is that he's an incredibly rich fucking psychopath. He inherited this pharmaceutical company that only sells drugs to the Army. He moves around, taking all these fabulous public jobs. Bass says that he's moving here to be a member of the board of directors at Cascade General. Can you believe that? I haven't told Ian about all this yet. I guess I'll cross that bridge when I get to it. Anyway, Bass wants me to pick him up at the airport next week."
"You want me to go with you?"
"If you want. I wouldn't force you. He decided to fly into Seattle instead of Cascade. Would the drive bother you?"
"Of course not. So, like, why did he send the letter to you here?"
"Hell if I know. But I'm going to nail that one the minute he steps off the plane."
At the Sea-Tac airport, Blair stood by the Babbling Brook fountain. It was a normal water fountain, near the restrooms, but each time he pressed the button to make the water flow, a recording of a babbling creek would play. It always made him giggle. Slowly, Collin reached for his hand. "Blair, honey, do not abuse the public art."
"Sorry, this thing always cracks me up."
Looking back at the gate, Collin sighed with relief when he noticed passengers walking through. "Thank god! It took them long enough to open up the plane." They moved closer, then Collin pointed. "That's him. In the black turtleneck."
Seeing him, Blair raised one eyebrow. Sebastian stood only a few inches taller than Collin but with the same lean build. Thick black hair fell to his shoulders in waves, so black that the fluorescent lights gave it blue highlights. A tight black goatee covered his chin and upper lip. His skin was deeply tanned. Over his black turtleneck, he wore a heavy brown corduroy sports coat that accented his broad shoulders. He scanned the crowd with narrow black eyes like a hungry cat, but the moment he saw Collin, he dropped his bags and ran to him. He gathered Collin into a swift hug, and they almost fell over from the momentum.
/He sure is animated for someone with no self-esteem,/ Blair thought as he left them to pick up Sebastian's abandoned bags, and when he returned, they were still laughing and hugging. "Collin, Collin, Collin, I've missed you!" He turned when he saw Blair standing with his bags.
"Here," Blair offered. "You . . . uh . . . left these."
"Why, thank you. Are you . . . Ian?" Sebastian had the same lowland lilt that Collin had, only Blair recognized a harder edge to his.
"No," Collin interrupted. "This is Blair Sandburg. Blair, this is my cousin, Bass Sanders."
Blair reached out to shake his hand. "Pleased to meet you."
Sebastian looked around at the airport. "Oh my god, I'm in Seattle! I'm in Seattle!" He looked at Collin with a begging face. "We don't have to run back to Cascade now, do we?" He then turned to Blair. "Please?"
Blair laughed. "No problem. I can call Jim and tell him I won't be at the station today."
"Jim?" Sebastian asked.
"He's my partner."
"Blair's a cop," Collin whispered into Sebastian's ear.
"Get out!"
"No, I'm not a cop."
"Blair's getting his Ph.D. in anthropology at Rainier," Collin said while pulling Bass toward baggage claim. "His dissertation is on closed societies, so he's riding with Jim for research."
"Y'all don't mind, do ya? Oh, it's been years since I was last in Seattle. I want to run by the market if I could." Then he turned to Collin. "And I want to see the Pink Elephant, too! And then go by Volunteer Park. Oh, and see the university district. If we hurry, we can stop off and have lunch at this great sushi bar there that's right next to a fabulous bookstore." Then he said to Blair with a wicked smile, "It has these fish tanks near each table so these little fish are watching you eat their relatives!"
Once in the car, Collin asked. "So . . . where's the evil one?" From the back seat, Blair watched for Sebastian's reaction.
He took a deep breath before answering. "Collin, I've been with Didion now for almost three years. I love him, and I love you. And I wish you wouldn't keep putting me in such an awkward position."
"Bass, he's a monster--"
"He is not a monster," he answered patiently. "He treats me very well."
"He's playing head games with you."
"Granted, yes, Didion likes to play head games. I won't argue with you on that. But we don't with each other." Sebastian glanced at Blair in the back seat. "Let's talk about this later, okay?"
Collin looked into the rear view mirror at Blair's reflection. "Sorry about that, Blair."
"Hey, don't mind me," Blair replied easily. "I'm just along for the ride."
The car finally pulled onto the interstate, and Sebastian sighed heavily. "There she is." He pointed to Mount Rainier. "There's my baby."
"If you love this place so much, why has it taken you this long to come out here?" Collin asked.
"Didion and I move too often. It wasn't easy getting him out of Santa Barbara, but I finally talked him into moving."
"Is he here already?"
"Yeah. He got to Cascade several weeks ago. He found us a house overlooking Puget Sound."
Collin gave a fake shudder. "Oh, to think that gorgon's been in Cascade and I didn't even know it."
"Enough, Collin," Sebastian snapped. Then he turned to Blair. "So, tell me, Blair. What's Cascade like?"
"Cold."
"That was my reaction to Chicago."
"Where have you lived?" Blair asked.
"When Didion and I first got together," he paused to look at Collin, then continued, "we moved to New Orleans. We had a great apartment over a shop in the French Quarter, but Bourbon Street was too loud and crowded, so we bought a house in the Garden District. We spent the winter in Chicago and I hated it. So we moved to Manhattan. Had a great apartment, there, and I loved it."
"What made you move?"
"Didion and I went to Santa Barbara one weekend, and we liked it a lot. Then for some reason Didion wanted to move to Ohio."
"Where in Ohio?" Collin inquired.
"I didn't ask. Somewhere near the capital."
"What is the capital of Ohio, anyway?" Collin asked.
"Oh, who knows."
"Yeah. Yankees, anyway," Collin teased.
"For real. My knowledge of geography stops with the rude states. So where are you from, Blair?"
"Ohio."
"Oh shit. Man, I am so sorry. I was just trying to make a joke."
"I'm kidding. I'm from all over. My mother moved almost every year."
"Well, I think I can relate after living with Didion. Always on the run."
Back in Cascade, just as the sun was setting, the three of them followed the directions Sebastian had with him and found his new home. Blair whistled when he saw the large modernistic mansion on a cliff overlooking Cascade. Sebastian didn't seem phased by it. "Oh, look, my car made it here." Blair noticed the blue BMW convertible.
"What happened to your black Miata?"
"Moving up in the world, cuz." As Collin and Blair helped him with his bags, Sebastian offered, "Hey, would y'all like to come in for a drink?"
Collin answered before Blair could accept, "I need to be getting Blair back home."
Sebastian looked honestly crushed, but he forced a smile before holding out his hand to Blair. "I hope to see you again."
"I do, too. Later, Bass." Confused, Blair eyed Collin as they got back in his car. "I didn't have to go, you know."
Collin pointed to a gold Mercedes. "That has to be Didion's car."
"Didion? The monster?"
"I'm sorry, Blair. I just can't handle him yet."
After watching Collin drive away, Sebastian sighed, then brushed his hand nervously through his black hair. Once inside, he took one look at the interior of his new home. The walls were lined with polished redwood and hung with Greek and Roman friezes. The floor was rough almond slate. "Didion?" he said in a soft voice. "Where are you?"
He heard his lover's shout, "I'm back here -- in the office." Sebastian followed his voice towards the back of the house. Noticing a set of French doors halfway ajar, he pushed them open and stepped inside. His lover sat at his desk, and behind him stretched a wide expanse of windows overlooking the city, the bay and the ring of the Olympics. The setting sun bathed the room with a rosy glow, making his tanned skin even darker while his curly brown hair sparkled with blond highlights. His white shirt lay on the polished black marble desktop, and Sebastian allowed himself to admire his well-defined chest darkened with brown hair. "I missed you," Didion said, and Sebastian smiled. Didion took a deep breath. "And I missed the smell of your pheromones."
Then Didion returned to tightening the rubber tubing around his left arm.
"You should be more careful. What if Collin had come in with me?"
Didion prepared the needle. "I heard your heartbeat when you opened the door. I knew it was just you." Just as he was about to insert the needle into a vein, he saw Sebastian cross his arms and look down at the floor.
"I hate it when you do that," Sebastian said with a shiver.
"I know, baby," he replied softly. "But it's something I have to do." He shot the amber serum into his arm. "If I didn't, I'd get cancer and die. Just like the rest of them." Didion rubbed his arm briskly then put away the needle and tubing. "There, it's done. You can look now." Sebastian stopped staring at the floor. Didion held out his strong hand to him. "Come here." Sebastian stepped closer, took Didion's hand, and allowed his lover to maneuver him to sit on the desk. With a heavy sigh, Didion wrapped his arms around Sebastian's waist and pressed his face against the younger man's stomach. "I'm sorry, baby, for what it's worth."
Sebastian ran his fingers through Didion's curly brown hair. "You don't have to apologize."
"Sometimes I feel like I do. I hate dragging you through all this. I made you leave all of your friends behind. And your family. Collin still hates me, doesn't he?"
"He's just over-protective."
Didion looked up, and Sebastian peered down into his sweet blue eyes. "I know how he feels, Bass. If anything ever happened to you . . ." He drifted in the sensation of Sebastian's hearbeat before asking, "Did Collin get the letter you sent to Yoshito's address?"
"Yes."
"Oh. Then I guess the project was right. Collin is connected to him now."
Sebastian noticed the files on Didion's desk. "Is that our target?"
Didion sat back in the heavy leather chair and stroked his chin. "Yes." He watched as Sebastian opened the first file.
"James Ellison. . . . . Another cop, huh? Oh well, they always are."
"This one's different," Didion said.
"How so?"
"This one's a natural."
"Like the one in Atlanta?"
Didion nodded. "And a lot more powerful."
Sebastian exhaled. "Oh boy."
"Yeah, I know. We've got to take this one slow."
Pointing to the second file, Sebastian asked, "Is this his partner?" Again, Didion only nodded. Once Sebastian read the name, he huffed a quick laugh. "Looks like things just got easier."
"How so?"
"Blair Sandburg just so happens to be Collin's best friend. Blair came with him to pick me up. I've already met him. I even invited him inside for a drink, and he almost took me up on it but I think Collin didn't."
"Because of me, huh?" Didion leaned forward, grabbed Sebastian's hand and kissed his knuckles. "Do you really think this is going to make it easier for us? I . . . they knew Collin was Blair's friend. His file says he teaches at Rainier with your cousin. Blair is his connection to Yoshito. But can you do it again? To someone Collin knows."
Sebastian crossed his arms on his chest. "I'll be fine."
Didion immediately stood up and wrapped his arms around him. "No you won't. You'll do this for me and then you'll fall apart like you did last time, and I'll have to be the one to pick up the pieces, again."
Sebastian kissed his cheek. "But you did such a good job of it last time."
"Don't joke about this, Bass. We're here because of your connection to Collin. He's dating Dr. Yoshito now, and we can get to Jim and Blair through them. We're probably the only ones who can get so close to them and so quickly. So don't joke about this. If it hadn't been for your connection with Collin, another operative would have been assigned to this job. This fell into our laps through dumb luck and coincidence, but this is still going to be some major trauma."
"Sometimes, making a joke helps get me through it, babe. So what's the plan? Standard divide and conquer?"
"For the most part. We're at a disadvantage here. For one, Jim Ellison is a natural, which means his senses won't be getting weaker any time soon. And, two, did you see what Blair Sandburg is researching?"
Sebastian opened the file again. "Wait. Collin said he was doing his dissertation on closed societies."
"That's what's on record with the police when he was approved for observer status. But the project has reason to believe that he's researching the historical sentinel. They think Sandburg has convinced Ellison to work with one of the ancient paradigms. These guys know who they are, what they are, and what their relationship between each other is. Most of our targets have no idea, and they're just working on instinct. These guys are full conscious-competents. Looking over Ellison's record, and the times it mentions Sandburg, this cop has a real handle on his skills, and Sandburg is acting like an ancient guide."
"So what do we do?"
"First thing -- we need a copy of Sandburg's research. A rough-draft of his dissertation would be perfect. See just what sort of paradigm they're working under."
Sebastian replied, "If Ellison is following the same pattern as all the others, then there's sure to be some sort of spiritual element involved. Sandburg's an anthropologist, so there's no telling what sort of tribal animist religious element he's using to focus Ellison."
"Well, that's your forte. Once we have some idea of Ellison's weaknesses, then we can map out a strategy."
"And then?"
"Then we have to get them separated. Who knows? Maybe with these guys being an 'ancient sentinel and guide,' Ellison may freak out all the more." Didion traced Sebastian's goatee with his finger. "I know I would if someone made me separate from you. And I'm not even a real sentinel." He kissed him. "So once we get them separated, and Ellison starts to feel the effects, then it's just like all the other times. Standard procedure."
As they walked down the darkened street, Jim adjusted his tie and muttered, "I'm still hating this." Blair pulled his hand away but didn't say anything. They had already had this argument too many times today, and he wasn't in the mood to start it again. Following Ian and Collin, Blair paused for a moment to look up at the tall skyscraper they were about to enter. The night was fairly warm for September, and a slight breeze scattered scraps of paper across the sidewalk. Jim didn't seem to notice Blair falling behind.
Collin stepped back to take Blair's arm. "Come on."
Just as he did, they heard a gruff voice behind them. "Well, look, if it isn't another couple of faggots." Collin's back stiffened, and Blair instantly recognized the angry spark in his eyes.
"Ignore it," Blair said, his current nightmares of darkened streets making him nervous. "Let's go."
But Collin spun around and faced the stranger who stood in the shadows, away from the street lights. He was much taller than Collin, bulky and stout with long black hair. "What did you say to me?"
"I said you were a faggot," the larger man taunted. "What are--"
"Do you think you can intimidate me, you fat fuck?"
"I can kick your scrawny ass, you fairy!" He moved in closer, trying to force Collin to back down.
It didn't work. "Hit me. Just try it. The minute you even touch me, I'm calling the cops and having you arrested. Don't think I won't."
"You'd call the cops? What? Can't stand up for yourself?"
"This is standing up for myself. You can't keep me in the closet. Not only do I have the right, but I have the strength to be who I am."
The large stranger shoved Collin hard. "Where's your fucking cop now?"
Jim instantly materialized at Collin's side with his badge drawn. He flashed the metal in the attacker's face and whispered, "Is there a problem here?" He quickly listened for Collin's heartbeat. Steady but strong. Then he checked the large stranger. His was beating fiercely and he smelled strongly of fear. Jim pressed his advantage. "Didn't I just see you assault this man?"
"I . . ."
"Listen to me." Jim pressed his face into the man's personal space. "I'm having to go to a party where I have to wear a goddamn tie. Just push your luck. Give me an excuse to haul your ass into the station so I won't have to go to this."
The stranger continued to stutter, "I . . . I . . ."
"Apologize to this man."
"Do what?"
"Apologize. Do it now or so help me God I'm taking you in."
"Fine! Fine! I apologize. I apologize."
Collin pulled Jim aside and replied to the stranger, "On behalf of all the gay and lesbian--"
"Enough, Collin." Jim interrupted. "Save it for somebody better." Then he glared at the stranger. "As for you, if anything ever happens to this man, I'm coming after you first. I personally don't give a shit what you think about straights, gays or any of that crap, but we have laws in this city and you will abide by them. Is that understood?"
"Yes sir."
"And another thing. I don't forget a face. So if you ever see me again, cross the street." Jim turned his back on the man, dragging Collin by the elbow. "Damnit, Collin, when it comes to trouble, you're as bad as Blair."
Ian and Blair were waiting for them at front of the building. "Are you okay?" Ian asked.
"Oh, I've never felt better, "Collin answered as he linked his arm with Ian's.
Jim leaned in to whisper to Blair, "He's not kidding."
"You bloody live for this kind of confrontation, don't you?" Ian challenged him angrily as he held open the ornate glass door leading into the lobby.
"Yes, Ian, I do. Somebody has to stand up to people like that. And don't be so high and mighty. I know you were just as confrontational when you were a punk in London."
"I know, but . . ."
Collin stopped him in the lobby. "But what?"
"It's a lot harder to watch someone you love put himself in harm's way just for a cause."
"Ian, if we--"
"No, Collin. I know the reasons. I know how important it is for everyone as a whole, but what the bloody hell do I care if every gay man is free if I'm left behind to tend to your bloody tombstone?"
No one said anything further as they rode the elevator in silence to the penthouse. Jim's mind couldn't stop thinking about the incident. He had to admit that he admired Collin's quick bravado, but Ian's words made more sense to him. /That could be Blair one day./
The minute Jim walked inside the penthouse, he rolled his eyes. Ian had explained his connection with Eric and Carl before they came over. People called them "the twins," because Eric and Carl had met in med school many years ago and they had been together since. Their penthouse parties were infamous for their ostentation, and this one tonight was no exception. The theme for the night was World War II. Waiters wearing army dress uniforms strolled around the guests with trays of champagne and food. The large penthouse was already packed with people, dressed in suits and evening gowns so expensive that Jim actually felt uncomfortable with what he had on.
In the far corner of the room, a small "big-band" had been set up -- a piano, double-bass, a few horns -- and a young blonde sat on the piano, her long legs crossed under the hem of her blue-sequined gown.
[out of the tree of life I just picked me a plum] [you came along and everything started to hum] [still it's a real good fact the best is yet to come]
"I need a beer," Jim whispered to Blair, "and fast."
"Can't. You're my designated driver."
"I can give you the keys."
"No dice. Look, Jim, this party is like so not me. I plan on getting a good buzz to get through this."
"If you're so miserable, then why are we here?"
"I had no idea it was going to be like this. But now we're so stuck here."
"Fine. Let's take a taxi home."
"You won't hear an argument from me."
[the best is yet to come] [and babe won't it be fine?] [the best is yet to come] [come the day you're mine]
Ian pulled Jim by the arm. "Come here," he said with a little impatience. "It's bloody time you started meeting people." He dragged Jim in front of someone and stepped back.
Jim paled as he recognised the young man in front of him -- handsome, ebony skin, goatee, diamond stud earring, his long black hair tied in thin braids. He was also the assistant district attorney.
"Bailey?"
"Jim?"
"Bailey, I . . I . . I," Jim stuttered, unsure of what to say.
Bailey held up his finger. "Hold on a second, Jim." He ducked into the crowd, and came back with a tall, muscular blond. "Jim, I want you to meet my partner, Sam. Sam, this is Detective Jim Ellison. We work together."
"Wow! Detective!" Sam reached his hand out to shake Jim's. "That has to be tough, man!"
Jim was speechless. Bailey spotted Blair. "Hey, Blair!" Then he looked at Jim. "Oh! I didn't know you two were together. Man, that's gotta be tough. I thought Sam and I had it rough. Sam, this is Blair Sandburg. He's Jim's partner on the force."
"Are you two . . . together?"
"Yes," Blair answered.
[wait till your charms are right for these arms to surround you] [you think you flown before] [but you ain't left the ground] [wait till you're locked in my embrace] [wait till I draw you near] [wait till you've seen that sunshine place] [ain't nothing like it here]
Collin tugged at Blair's tweed jacket. "Come here. I want you to meet someone." Collin pulled Blair toward an older woman in a navy suit. Blair recognized her instantly. "Chancellor Griffith!"
"Hello, Blair." She smiled. "Have you met my partner, Elleanore?"
"N-n-no."
[out of ] [the tree] [of life] [I just] [picked me] [a plum]
An hour later, both Jim and Blair were feeling more comfortable. "Do I get a dance out of you, big guy?" Blair asked, rocking back and forth on his heels.
"Don't push your luck."
Collin looked up and his eyes grew wide. "Well, I'll be damned."
"What?" Blair asked.
"Over there." He pointed, and everyone turned toward the entrance. "Those two who just walked in." Then he said to Ian, "The guy with the black hair and goatee is my cousin, Bass."
"Hmm," Blair began, "his boyfriend's handsome." Blair watched Didion work the crowd with his infectious grin and innocent dimples. "I was expecting Frankenstein."
"Wait till he opens his mouth and the vile spews forth."
Ian leaned in to say, "I recognize Frankenstein. He just joined the board of directors for the hospital. Has a funny name. Can't remember it right off hand."
"His name is Didion Sachs," Collin added.
"Didion?" Jim raised his eyebrows. "Aren't they the people who put Bibles in hotel rooms?"
Collin laughed. "I knew there was a reason I liked you. No, those are the Gideons. This is Didion Sachs of Sachs-Rochemann Chemicals."
"The pharmaceutical company?" inquired Jim.
"The very same. The man is from the pits of hell and even Satan wouldn't have him for a neighbor."
Blair touched his shoulder. "Well, here comes Satan."
Sebastian, wearing a cream-colored cashmere turtle-neck and black double-breasted jacket, was the first to speak. "Collin!" He grabbed him in a hug. "Didion said you'd be here."
"Did he?" Collin glared at Didion over Sebastian's shoulder. "I see you're still exchanging body fluids with that odious person."
Sebastian rolled his eyes as he pulled away, returning to Didion's side. "Collin," Didion said, "good to see you again. And so far away from home." He gestured at the penthouse. "These surroundings . . . don't make you feel uncomfortable?"
Collin stiffened and shot back, "I have a small ass, Didion, but it's all yours to kiss."
"How charming. I bet your mother's proud."
"More proud than yours."
Sebastian touched Didion's shoulder. "Please stop it. Not here."
Didion cleared his throat, closed his eyes and took a deep breath to clear his anger. "Very well. Truce for the evening? For Bass?"
Collin narrowed one eye, then said, "Truce. For Bass."
Didion scanned the other men. He recognized Ian first. "Dr. Yoshito." He held out his hand. "It's good to see you again. I didn't realize until yesterday that you were the one Bass said was dating his cousin. Well, welcome to the family, for what it's worth, coming from the outlawed in-law." Then he turned to Jim. "Hi, I'm Didion Sachs."
"Jim Ellison. This is my partner, Blair Sandburg."
"Pleased to meet you. Bass has spoken highly of you, Blair. Would all of you be interested in coming by our house one night? For drinks? To get to know each other?"
Sebastian looked at Collin. "Please?"
Collin touched Ian's arm to keep him from responding. "We'll get back to you."
Sebastian rolled his eyes again and muttered, "Jesus. I need a drink. Do you need one, Didion?"
"In a minute. I need to speak to someone."
"Blair, can I get you something? Jim? Ian?"
"I'll go with you," Blair offered, then said to Jim, "I'll bring you something back." Ian excused himself, too, leaving Jim and Collin standing by themselves. Collin stood with one arm around his own waist and one hand holding his drink, trying to ignore Didion, even as the man came up close behind him.
"You've done very well for yourself," Didion whispered. "A doctor? And a rich one at that."
"Don't start with me, Didion. You know I'm not afraid of you."
"You should be," Didion warned. "You've come a long way since '96. I wonder if Dr. Yoshito knows why you left Atlanta after the Olympics?" Didion looked up at Jim as if he knew he had been overheard then slipped away into the crowd.
Jim looked at Collin instead. He could hear his heart pounding and smell the fear as the young man became suddenly pale, slamming down his drink in one gulp before hurrying to the balcony for air. /For someone who just stood up to a basher twice his size, that guy just scared the shit out of him./
Blair walked back and handed Jim a beer. "Where's Collin?"
"Have you seen Ian?" Jim asked instead.
"Yeah. I left him at the bar talking to someone. Why?"
"I'll be right back." Jim spotted Ian quickly and pulled his elbow slightly. "Excuse us," he said to the man Ian was talking with.
"Jim? What is it?"
"Do me a favor. Go check on Collin for me."
"Collin? What's wrong?"
"I think that Didion guy rattled his nerves a little. He could use you right now. He's out on the balcony."
Ian left without saying anything more to Jim. When Jim returned to Blair's side, his guide asked, "What was that all about?"
"Who is this Didion Sachs person?"
"I don't know," Blair answered. "He's Bass' boyfriend. That's all I know."
"He's an ass."
"I think Collin would agree with you. Collin almost makes it sound like Bass is in an abusive relationship."
Jim tightened his jaw. "How well do you know Collin?"
"Okay, I guess."
"Has he ever talked to you about Atlanta?"
"Sometimes. He was in a long-term relationship with someone. Had a house and everything. Then something happened and they broke up. That's when he moved out here. Why? What's going on?"
"Nothing. Ian's handling it." Jim drank from his beer. "So the other one is that Bass guy you were telling me about?"
"Yeah. I kinda like him. Seems nice."
"Nice, maybe, but how did he get out of wearing a tie?"
Blair chuckled slightly. "Jim, you can so act like a little boy sometimes."
"And you're one to speak," he whispered with a smile, kissing Blair on the side of the cheek before pulling back quickly.
At this sudden public display of affection, Blair held a hand to his cheek and stared at his lover, amazed.
Ian stepped out onto the expansive balcony. The night was getting chilly now, but Eric and Carl had set up space heaters, making everything more comfortable. He found Collin quickly, standing alone with his arms crossed, watching the full moon reflecting on the water of the sound. Slowly, Ian came closer, put his hands on Collin's shoulders and kissed his back. "Are you all right?"
Collin took a deep breath. "Yeah. I'm fine."
"You sure? Jim just asked me to check on you."
Collin spun around quickly. "Jim?" /Oh my god, I hope he didn't hear Didion!/
"Coll? What's wrong?"
"Nothing--"
"Don't lie to me. I can tell when you're upset."
Collin turned and covered his eyes with his hand. "Ian, I love you."
Ian wrapped his arms around Collin from behind. "Oh, baby, I love you, too. Nothing will change that."
"Even if I did something horrible in the past?"
Ian fell very quiet. Collin recognized the silence and tried to pull away. "I shouldn't have said anything."
He grabbed Collin's hand, kept him from leaving, and drew him instead toward a stone bench. "Collin, I have to tell you something, tonight, when we get home. But until then," he stroked the thin beard along Collin's jaw, "know that I love you. And that I'm no angel, either."
Several hours later, Jim started looking around for his partner. The blues singer who had been belting out Billie Holliday tunes had just stepped down, and the young blonde woman in the blue sequined gown who had been singing when they had come in returned to her place at the piano. She brushed her long hair from her face before taking a deep breath.
[just in time] [I found you just in time] [before you came] [my time was running low]
[I was lost] [the losing dice were tossed] [my bridges all were crossed] [no where to go]
Jim listened for Blair's heartbeat and tracked it to the balcony.
[now you're here] [and now I know just where I'm going] [no more doubts or fears] [I've found my way]
[your love came just in time] [you found me just in time] [and changed my lonely life] [and lovely days]
He saw his lover standing by himself, looking out at the Cascade skyline. A single strand of hair that had escaped his ponytail drifted in the wind. Jim came forward, placed his large hands on Blair's shoulders, and kissed his neck.
"Mmm," Blair purred.
"Blair?"
"Yeah?"
"Dance with me."
Blair turned to look at him, glowing softly. "I thought you'd never ask me." Both men stood with their legs slightly apart. Blair enjoyed the press of a stong leg into his groin as he pushed his own
body closer. Jim slipped his arms around Blair, and as the singer started her second song, they began to rock together slowly under the moonlight and autumn breeze, Blair's head snuggled against a strong chest, Jim's nose savouring the scent of thick curls. The guide drifted in the sensation of his larger lover shifting beneath his arms, protected by the sentinel's hand pressed tightly against the small of his back.
[it's not the pale moon that excites me] [that thrills and delights me] [although] [its just the nearness of you]
Inside the penthouse, Sebastian felt Didion suddenly pull him backwards against his chest, wrap his arm around him and kiss him
softly on the cheek. They watched Jim and Blair dancing. Neither said a word, but their focus on Jim and Blair was intense.
[it's not your sweet conversation] [that brings this sensation] [although] [its just the nearness of you] [when you're in my arms] [and I feel you so close to me] [all my wildest dreams] [come true]
The singer paused, and Blair looked up. His dark blue eyes sparkled. Jim leaned down and kissed him, long and deep, as the singer's voice suddenly swelled with power.
[my romance] [doesn't have to have a moon in the sky] [my romance] [doesn't need a blue lagoon standing by]
[no month of May, no twinkling stars] [no hide-away, no soft guitars]
[my romance] [doesn't need a castle rising in Spain] [nor a dance with a constantly surprising refrain]
[wide awake] [I can make my most fantastic dreams] [come true] [my romance] [doesn't need a thing] [but you]
"Blair?"
"Yes, Jim?"
"Let's go home."
The moment Blair walked through the door to the loft, he spun around and kissed Jim. The older man almost laughed as he held Blair's waist. "Go on upstairs, Chief. I'll just lock up down here."
Blair hurried upstairs, and Jim expected him to be under the covers when he got there, but Blair was lying fully dressed across the bed. Even his shoes were still on. Blair noticed Jim's surprised expression and he whispered, "Undress me."
One eye narrowed, Jim tried not to smile. He stared hard into Blair's eyes as he jutted out his jaw. His hands touched the lapels of his navy sports coat, opening it. As his arms bent back and his shoulders curled, Jim's chest expanded and the sleeves of his coat slipped off him. The sight of it -- of Jim's broad shoulders and his muscled pecs swelling -- sparked a wave of hunger in his guide. Jim slowly, carefully draped his coat across the back of a chair, and when he turned to face Blair, he recognized the warm mahogany scent of Blair's pheromones. He stripped off his tie a little bit quicker, and made fast work of his shirt buttons.
This time, when he bent his arms back to pull off his white shirt and his bare chest expanded, Blair let out a soft moan. Blair bit his lower lip, and his eyes were glued to the sight of Jim's brown nipples. Jim could no longer resist the smell of his guide, and he tossed the shirt to the floor, kicked off his shoes, then lowered himself over Blair.
Blair forced himself not to move, only lifting his head up slightly to receive Jim's kiss. "Undress me," he whispered again.
Jim stood up again, smiled, then gently lifted Blair's right foot and pulled off his shoe. He slipped his hands under Blair's slacks, and stroked the thick hairs on his legs. Blair sat up slightly, wincing back a laugh as Jim's fingers against his body hair tickled him. Jim tried not to laugh himself, but he wriggled his fingers against his lover's calf, tickling him again.
Blair peered up at him with sad puppy eyes and shook his head slowly in a silent, pleading, "don't."
And Jim understood. /He doesn't want to be teased. He wants to feel special./ Calm fingers pulled Blair's sock away, and Jim's warm hands squeezed his foot, massaging it firmly. Blair groaned out loud and rolled his head back, his hair spilling past his shoulders. Jim continued rubbing Blair's feet, taking his left foot and massaging that one, too, until Blair could no longer hold himself up by his elbows and he collapsed against the bed.
Jim leaned over him, his hands against the mattress and only their legs touching. "Jim, you're going to have to undress me now. None of my muscles are working."
Jim glanced down at Blair's swollen groin. "Looks like one muscle's working just fine to me." He lowered himself more, still trying not to touch Blair, and kissed his chest through the cloth of his shirt. With one hand, he tried to pull Blair's tie loose. When it fought him, he sat on his knees, pressing his rear into Blair's crotch and feeling his hard cock. Doing this freed both of his hands and he quickly stripped away Blair's tie and started unbuttoning his shirt. Then he pressed his big hands onto the naked chest, and Blair shivered as the warmth passed through him. Jim unbuckled the belt, unzipped the pants, and in a fluid motion, pulled off the slacks and boxers, leaving his lover nude and exposed on his bed.
He covered his lover with his body, one arm behind Blair's back, and nibbled on the younger man's neck. "Oh, Jim," he moaned as one of his hands cupped the back of Jim's head. When the detective bit down hard on his neck, Blair's "Oh Jim!" grew louder. Pushing him back on the bed with both arms wrapped around Blair's shoulders, Jim continued to bite. The guide lifted his legs, locking them with his ankles around his lover's waist as his hands groped his buttocks through his slacks.
Jim slipped his hands under Blair's arms and pushed him toward the headboard until he could lick the younger man's hairy chest, searching with his tongue until he felt the cold silver of the nipple ring. Taking it between his teeth, Jim tugged on it, causing Blair to arch his back off the mattress each time. The younger man's hands raced across Jim's back, squeezing the muscles and dragging his short fingernails across the hot skin. Jim planted soft kisses down the thick trail of hair, down his breastbone, down his stomach, pausing to tongue his bellybutton while Blair's long cock poked him in the soft center of his chin.
He squeezed his young partner's balls, enjoying the moans of "jim" that this elicited. Taking Blair's cock by the base, he pulled it away from Blair's stomach. In the light of the beside lamp, he saw Blair's pleasure-drugged expression beneath his heavy-lidded eyes. He poked out the tip of his tongue and pressed it against Blair's cockhead, then touched on various places along the shaft and head, causing Blair to sigh. Once he got to Blair's balls, he wiped his tongue in one wide swath down the length before taking the head into his wet mouth.
Blair's hands immediately found Jim's head, rubbing his hands over the short hair and pushing his face down. Jim took as much of Blair's length into his throat, then pulled back, sucking hard. Blair's shoulders curled off the mattress before falling back again with a moan. Jim loved sucking on Blair's cock, especially the way the younger man squirmed under him like he was trying to escape. He gauged Blair's body heat and heartbeat and pulled away when he thought Blair was coming too close to orgasm.
Blair's body sagged into a limp heap when Jim stopped. "Gods, Jim, you're incredible."
Jim only grinned as he sat up, unbuckling his belt and pulling his own slacks and boxers free. With both hands, he took Blair's cock and his own erection, squeezed them together, and with soft movements of his hips started rocking their shafts against each other. Blair thrust his hips upward in unison.
Then Jim leaned over to the bedside table, pulled out the lube and squirted some into his hands. Blair shouted as he felt the cold oil coating his penis, then looked up as Jim pressed the tube into his hands. He could see his partner sitting astride him, knees spread wide, hands behind his head. The dark patches of hair under his arms, the triangle shape of his muscles and chest -- caused Blair's lust to burn hotter. He poured lube into his hand, then reached under Jim's balls.
Gently, he stroked the crease of Jim's ass, massaging the hard muscles and feeling the small hairs that grew there. Then Blair took more lube and circled his fingertips around the rim of Jim's ass. "Blair!" he groaned, his hips bucking slightly. Carefully, Blair pushed a finger inside, not rushing it. He knew Jim was tight, and he was always considerate. Taking more lube, Blair tried a second finger, and then a third. He paused, with three fingers inside the older man, and held his hand still as Jim made the movements, fucking himself against Blair's hand. With his free hand, Blair made sure his cock was still slick.
When Jim felt he was ready, he reached down for Blair's cock and aimed it for his center. His eyes and mouth squeezed shut, and Jim jerked slightly when he felt the cockhead press against his hole. The cockhead pushed its way past his rim as Jim sat down slightly, and he forced out his breath in a long sigh as he pushed it in deeper, past the opening. Once the head was through the sphincter, Jim relaxed even more, his chin touching his chest, and Blair slid into his body.
Blair stroked Jim's legs, and Jim waited for the burning itch to stop inside him. When he became accustomed to Blair's cock, Jim sat up slightly, withdrawing, then down again, pushing it deeper. His movements grew faster until he was fucking himself while Blair held on tight to his smooth thighs.
After a few moments, Jim pushed Blair's cock as deep inside him as possible, then grabbed Blair's hips. Slowly, he pulled Blair up, lifting him from the mattress as Jim tried to lie down, unwilling to break the connection. Blair helped as best he could until finally he was lying on top. The older man wrapped his legs around Blair's waist, then guided his thrusts with his hand on the small of Blair's back. "Fuck me," Jim whispered, "hard."
Blair slid his cock out, almost to the tip, then drilled deep into Jim with one thrust. Jim gasped, his head thrown back and his neck muscles strained. The tight sensation of Jim's muscles surrounding his cock felt like heaven, and Blair abandoned himself to the pleasure of reaming Jim.
Lying on his back, Jim knew Blair was about to come. When Jim's senses were dialed too high, he could feel the electric pulse of Blair's climax through his own skin. The tingling sensation Jim felt everywhere Blair's body touched him warned his sentinel senses. Jim pulled Blair down tight as the younger man continued to pound into him fiercely. The electric sensation was most intense inside him, where Blair's cock raked against his insides, growing in strength until it felt like Blair's body was covered in numbing fur.
Blair shouted, and his cock exploded. The warm whoosh of fluid inside Jim, along with the electric shock, sent Jim over the edge. His anal muscles clenched around Blair, milking his lover as his own orgasm surged, soaking both men's chests. Jim couldn't breathe as the sparkling array of lights and colors blinded him and his body began to quiver. Zoning, Jim focused on Blair's sweet whispers, "Shhhhhhh. Let it happen, baby. Shhhhhh. I love you. I love you so much."
Jim was nearly crying with exhaustion from his own climax, coupled with experiencing Blair's, but this was always a mystical sensation for him. His physical connection. Each time they came together, Blair would coax Jim back to earth by rubbing the back of his knuckles against Jim's face. Butterfly kisses calmed him down further, and when his heart stopped racing and he regained control of his breathing, Jim moaned, "Blair. God, I love you."
It was almost morning. Ian and Collin had slipped out with Jim and Blair, and when they returned to Ian's apartment, they had built a fire. Now, the fire was slowly dying, and in the silence, its crackling coals popped and hissed. The slight flickering flames turned their skin orange. Gently, Collin toyed with strands of Ian's thick black hair as his lover dozed in his lap. In a daze, Collin tried to understand what Ian had just confessed to him, about testing on American soldiers, about watching them die. But Ian had refrained from telling Collin about his connection to Jim and Blair. Afterwards, all Collin could say was, "Thank you . . . for telling me."
"Collin?"
"What?"
"I have never forgiven myself for what I did," he had said. "Nothing you could have done in your past could compare in my eyes to what I did. If you can find it in your heart to forgive me, I'm certain I can forgive you."
"Thank you." He had kissed him hard, his eyes wet. "Thank you."
Even so, Collin couldn't tell Ian what had happened in Atlanta during the Olympics. He just couldn't do it. /Not yet./
"Tell me when you're ready," Ian had said. "I will never force you."
Several days later, Blair heard a knock on his office door. "Come in?" When he recognized the black hair, green turtle-neck and bright smile, he couldn't really believe it. "Bass?"
"Hey, buddy. Can I come in?"
"Of course. Of course."
"I didn't know you wore glasses. You look good in them. You should wear them more often."
"Thanks. Uh, what are you doing here?"
"Came to see if I could bug you. You aren't busy are you?"
"No, not really. Just doing research today."
Sebastian picked up Blair's book on sentinels, and noticed the photo of the tribal warrior. "Who's this? He's hot."
Blair smiled. "He's a sentinel. Are you familiar with them?"
"No." Sebastian read some of the text as he sat down on the edge of Blair's desk. "Sir Richard Burton, huh?"
"Yeah. The explorer, not the actor."
Sebastian eyed with him a patient look. "I know who he is."
"Sorry. Most people don't."
"I'm not most people," he said, still looking at him with soft black eyes. "I think his wife should have done us all a favor and burned the Kama Sutra and kept the rest of his papers untouched."
"Well, it sure would have made my dissertation a lot easier if she had."
"Are you doing your dissertation on Burton?"
"Yeah. On a rare monograph he did concerning sentinels. You see, sentinels were men with heightened senses who guarded the tribe."
"Just men?" Sebastian asked.
"Well, I haven't come across a female sentinel. Not yet, anyway."
"Can I read it . . . your dissertation, that is?"
"Oh, I'm not finished with it."
"Not even a part of it?"
"It would just bore you."
"Blair, I have a degree in philosophy. It won't bore me. Trust me."
"I'll think about it."
Sebastian tossed the book onto Blair's desk with a loud slap. "God damnit, you're as bad as Collin." Blair didn't say anything. He merely sat behind his desk with his hands raised defensively. Then Sebastian said softly, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to take it out on you."
"No problem, man."
"You know, I always said I was going to go back and get my Ph.D., and I never did. Then all of my friends started going back, and I stayed in corporate. I don't know when it changed for them, when they saw me as no longer smart. Do you know how much it hurts when someone dismisses something you said with, 'Oh, well, you haven't done the research like we have'? Or even worse, when you walk in a room and everyone with a grad degree stops talking altogether and turns the topic of conversation to something like the latest wine or where to score a decent joint? I mean, I may just have a goddamn bachelors degree in religious philosophy, but I've kept reading on my own, you know? I could write a book on shamanism if I wanted to."
Blair immediately stood up. "Hey, man, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it to sound like that. Here, tell me what you think of this." He handed him a notebook. "It's my notes on the spiritual aspects of sentinels and their guides."
Sebastian covered his face with his hands. "Shit," he mumbled.
"What? What did I do?"
"I'm so embarrassed." He handed the notebook back to Blair, his face bright red. "I can't take this, not after the scene I just pulled. I feel like turd in a punchbowl." He started to rise.
Blair handed the notebook back. "No, I mean it. Shamanism is like a major weak point for me right now, and I'm looking for any advice from all corners. I know it looks and sounds like I'm being patronizing, but I'm not. Honest. Please, it would mean a lot to me."
Sebastian looked at the notebook, his face still red. "This is . . . extremely kind of you."
"Kind nothing. I expect to see notes and documentation when you get finished with it." He bumped his shoulder against Sebastian's. "Now, you didn't come here for intellectual validation, did you?"
"No, not really." He pulled a piece of paper out of his jeans pocket. "A guy on the soccer team tried to pick me up, though."
"Shut up! You move fast!"
"Yeah, well. Too bad I'm majorly spoken for. You want it?"
"Gods no! Get that thing away from me. Jim is like way possessive. If he even smells another guy's phone number, I'm in big trouble. Give it to Collin. He'll get rid of it for you."
Sebastian gave a quick laugh, then looked down at his feet. "Collin."
"So you didn't come here for intellectual validation, and you didn't come here to cruise the jocks. What's up?"
"Blair, I need your help. Collin won't talk to me. And . . . Didion moves around so often, I rarely get a chance to make friends. I'm lonely, and I want to stay here in Cascade. We . . . we want to have you and Jim and Ian and Collin over for dinner, but Collin won't come, and so Ian won't come. And . . ." He looked up at Blair sadly. "You and Jim won't come if Collin and Ian don't come."
"Have you asked us?"
Sebastian shook his head. "We want you to come over, but if you say yes, and then Collin doesn't come . . . I don't want Collin to think we're going behind his back or anything."
"Why would he think that?"
"Well, you're his friend."
"I have a lot of friends, Bass."
"Okay. I hear you. But Didion . . . he really wants to make peace with Collin. I mean, I know he could care less one way or the other what Collin thinks, but . . . he knows it's bothering me. And I know Didion's a tough nut to crack. He never lets anyone really in and he's so controlled. But he's so much better than when I first met him. Before, he would have just ignored Collin, but now he's different. Collin and Didion didn't get off on the right foot. Didion was having . . . some physical problems and . . . well . . . he hit me. He didn't mean it. He's was just in a panic and he had to take it out on somebody. Collin, well, he never forgave Didion for it. But Didion and I worked through all that."
"Whoa," Blair forced his hands to his temples. "Major paradigm shift!"
"Huh?"
"Didion sounds exactly like Jim."
"Not surprised. Jim being a cop and all."
"Was Didion a cop?"
"No, not really. But he was in the Army for a while. Deep down, that militarism is the same."
"Didion was in the Army?"
"Yeah. Rangers."
Blair stood up. "Come on."
"Where are we going?"
"Collin's office. Listen, I know where you're coming from finally. I mean, don't take me wrong, but Collin paints a pretty nasty picture of Didion."
"Yeah. I know."
"But from what you just said, Didion sounds like a carbon copy of Jim, and I know that Jim can come off like an asshole if he's not careful."
Collin heard the rap on his door. "Yes?"
"It is only I, a poor humble student, here to beg for you to reconsider. Please don't fail me! Don't send me back to Yakima with an F in English."
"Bass?"
The door opened, and both Sebastian and Blair peeked in.
"My," Collin began, "look what the cat drug up."
Sebastian cast his eye towards Blair. "Which one of us is the cat?" he asked in a stage whisper.
"We'll figure it out later," Blair whispered back.
"Okay." They fell into the room, snickering. Sebastian looked around Collin's office, at the piles of books stacked against each other and the various posters. "Oh my god!"
"What now?" Collin asked.
"This place looks exactly like Dr. Youngblood's office. Do you remember?" Suddenly the two of them barked out a series of "fah fah fah" sounds like a stuffy professor before breaking into peals of laughter. Blair just shook his head and rolled his eyes. Then Sebastian noticed the picture of William Faulkner in a gold frame. "What's this? A shrine to Uncle Billy? Where are the votive candles?"
Collin pressed his hand to his chest in mock offense. "Rude! Faulkner can do no wrong!"
"Yeah, right. What was The Fable all about, anyway?"
Collin threw a pencil at him. "Philistine! How dare you invade this ivy-covered concentration camp I call sanctuary?"
Sebastian turned with a grin. "Come with us! I just talked Blair into a trip to the house. I haven't been able to show it off to anybody! Please?" Collin gave him a wry look. "Oh, come on, Collin. Didion's in Seattle all day today and he won't be back until late tonight. Please?"
"Fine. But I will not be responsible for that man's health if he shows up early."
"Great. Now, where's the bathroom in this place? I am about to burst."
"Down the hall. And no cruising allowed."
"Oh, that reminds me." Sebastian pulled out the soccer player's phone number. "Don't say I never gave you anything. Oh, and hold this for me, too." He handed Collin Blair's notebook. "Be back in a sec." He dashed out.
"What is this?" Collin asked Blair.
"What, the phone number, or the notebook?"
"The notebook." Collin threw the number in the trash. "I already have Phillip Szlegowsky's phone number."
"Okay, I won't go there." Blair pointed to the notebook. "I gave Bass my notes on shamanistic rituals in tribes that are reported to have primitive sentinels in them. He said he'd look it over and give me his comments."
Collin touched Blair's arm with a honest look of surprise. "Blair, you have no idea what that means to me. If you can encourage him to return to school and get his Ph.D., I'd be eternally grateful."
"Oh yeah? Grateful enough to have dinner with him . . . and Didion?"
Collin stiffened immediately. "You can't be serious."
"Now, Collin, before you fly off the handle. Bass and I've been talking about it for a while, and Didion sounds a lot like Jim. And Jim can come off like a real jerk sometimes."
"Blair, Didion did not 'come off like a jerk.' He fucking ruined my life, and he's hung over Bass like a vampire for years. Bass isn't at all like he once was. He used to be so full of life and so confident. Has he told you about the time he was hospitalized for being beaten? Has he shown you the scar on his chest?"
"Have I shown you mine?" Blair asked, pointing to his chest where Marshall Aigle's bullet had clipped him after ending Jack McClairy's life.
Collin shook like he had been slapped. "Blair . . . I . . ."
"No, I'm sorry. There was like no need for that kind of drama. I don't even know why I said it."
"Blair, I really, really appreciate you trying to get close to Bass, and I want to encourage you to do more of it. One of the reasons . . . one of the reasons I sought you out was because you constantly reminded me of Bass before . . ."
"Before what?"
"Before he met Didion. You see, this is the reason I hate Didion. That man is a beast who hurts people for fun. He manipulates your trust and good nature and uses you for it. The last time he was in my life . . ." His voice trailed off.
"Collin," Blair began with waning patience. "I understand that something went down in Atlanta in 96. I understand that you were hurt and I even understand your unwillingness to tell anybody. But don't threaten me with rumors, man. If there's something I should know, then tell me."
Both men stared at each other and the tension mounted. Finally, Collin crossed his arms and closed his eyes. "Blair . . . I can't even build up the courage to tell Ian yet."
Suddenly Sebastian burst into the room, startling them both. Blair rubbed his mouth while Collin spun around to stare at the wall. "Hey, are y'all ready?"
The sailboat had just slipped under the I-5 bridge between Seattle and Freemont-Wallingford, heading into Lake Union. Most of the party sat toward the back of the boat -- three men, one older and overweight with balding black hair, the others young and muscled -- along with three women who seemed more interested in the older gentleman. The older man tried to dance with a young woman, his hips swaying. The sails fluttered softly, and the wind lapped the dark water against the boat's gleaming white sides. Sunglasses blocked the glare of the autumn sun from their eyes, and a soft laugh floated from the deck.
Some else heard the laughter as he stood on the rooftop of a building along the shore a great distance away. The wind whipped the beige trenchcoat around his calves, but he didn't seem to notice it. Instead, his hearing scanned for heartbeats in his area, making sure no one was close. A dull metal air-conditioning unit blocked the view from the interstate and the houses which clung to the hills above Lake Union, and so his main concern focused on the other boaters and on any spying eyes along Queen Anne's Hill across the lake. He waited, his senses on-line and heightened, when suddenly his body snapped. His arm sprang out, aiming the pistol. He squeezed the trigger. The silencer muffled the sound. Instinctively, he housed his pistol back into his shoulder holster.
On the sailboat, the older gentlemen leaned toward one of the women, his hand tracing her jaw, when the bullet shattered his skull from the side and sprayed her with gore and blood.
Didion heard her screams as he turned and slipped down the stairs. He could still make it across Lake Washington for his meeting in Redmond with ten minutes to spare.