Author's webpage: http://internetdump.com/users/angiet

Author's disclaimer: I gave up disclaimers for my New Year's Resolution.

Author's notes: Yes, I'm back. Kicking and screaming, perhaps, but back nonetheless. Truth is, these guys just wouldn't leave me alone. Tough life, eh?

As a 'coming out of retirement' story, I think this is fitting. Yes, of course there's angst here - wouldn't be me otherwise - but I like to think it's a nicer kind of angst. Oh, and there's way too much love and sex for it to be truly angsty. Kind of like my holiday from angst, if you will.

First, thank you to Rie for all the help and encouragement. Sorry I didn't have time to pass this one by your skilled eye. Next time, I promise.

Secondly, a huge thank you to Kadru for helping me iron out more than a few wrinkles. Without your help, I doubt this story would have been finished.

I'm breaking in a new beta reader, so any mistakes are entirely mine.

This story is for all my friends on IRC. You know, the guys who wouldn't stop hounding me to start writing again. I don't dare name them for fear of being sued. And no, I'm not chicken.

I warn you, though, feedback will only encourage me to write more - so be careful what you wish for.

More and Less - part one
By Jack Reuben Darcy

Part One

If the dull substance of my flesh were thought,
Injurious distance should not stop my way
For then, despite of space I would be brought
From limits far remote, where thou dost stay

Sonnet 44
Shakespeare

Lines of printed words covered the page before him, all neat and black and full of the kinds of things he was so interested in. But tonight, they all ran into one another, creating a seamless menagerie of meanings at odds with his mood of late.

Restless, Blair stood and went into the kitchen. Chamomile tea, that's what he needed. But even as he put the kettle on, his feet longed to pace, to move, to go and expend energy. He stopped by the little window and peered down into the park. Only a few streetlights illuminated the frost-bitten patch of green. A man was walking with a dog on a lead and it was the silence more than anything else which reached Blair above. The silence and the emptiness.

That's what the books felt like to him now. Empty. Where had his hunger gone?

Perhaps it was the pressure getting to him. His advisor, Professor Peters had been at him for the last month, insisting that he commit to an alternative research subject, to give up his endless search for a full sentinel. Sure, Blair had tried to explain that statistically speaking, with all the other partial sentinels he'd found in his travels, there had to be at least one with all five senses heightened - but Peters was interested in results, in Blair doing some visible work on his thesis, on being able to produce something that would attract more funding for the university. Didn't he know how much faith had been placed in him, how highly the Board viewed his achievements so far, how much was expected of him?

The kettle began whistling and with a sigh, he switched the gas off but stopped short of making the tea.

Why the hell couldn't he settle?

He'd been a student for so many years now he'd thought he'd seen every side to his compulsion to contribute. But just lately, that urge seemed to have outgrown his ability to deliver. Too often, he'd become impatient with the slow process of research, of simply gathering information when really, none of it appeared to be what he was looking for.

So, what was he looking for?

There was no doubt that even now, with his thesis in it's early stages, he was already the world's foremost authority on sentinels - but what good did that do without a real one to hand? What was the point of knowing about something without being able to apply the knowledge? And without application, he would never see results for all his work.

Of course, that wasn't his job - but lately, the role of pure researcher felt way too limiting, conflicting with this inner urge to do rather than just simply observe and record. He had all this knowledge, all these skills - and nothing else.

All his life he'd been consumed with this hunger, this drive to absorb information, feeding a mind more than ready to receive it. More than once he'd been told that it was that hunger as much as his natural intelligence which had brought him this far. For so long, he had let it become his life, let it fill him, finding his meanings sitting on the written page, giving his life substance and weight. And it had seemed so right, so fitting, so fucking easy and so hard and so challenging that he'd been unable to notice the moment when the fire had begun to die down.

He was still hungry - but he no longer knew what would appease his appetite.

Restlessness forced his feet to pacing again. Peters hadn't been too impressed with Blair's attitude - and with reason. His temper had gotten the better of him, some blind, half-buried desire to be heard and understood beating the words out of him almost to the point of rudeness.

Perhaps he just needed to get away, take the next opportunity for some fieldwork that came his way, remind himself why he was in this game. Perhaps if he separated himself from libraries for a while and focussed on what anthropology was really about, he might find some outlet for all this suppressed ... need.

No.

Running away wasn't going to fix anything. Avoiding the issue for a year or so would only leave it waiting for him when he got back. And in the meantime, a full sentinel could come along and he would have missed his opportunity.

Shaking his head, he turned back into the living room where his cluttered desk filled a corner by the window. He stood beside it for a moment, his fingers touching the pile of books he was supposed to be reading - but for the life of him, he simply couldn't face sitting down again tonight.

No, tonight, he needed to just get out.

Yeah.

A grin spread across his face and without giving it another thought, he turned, grabbed his coat and keys and left all thoughts of study and work behind him.

Jim drove to the older part of town where the streets were more narrow and less populated, where few cars passed and nobody he knew would find him. For more than an hour, he simply turned one corner after another in something of a daze, not really caring whether he found somewhere to stop or not. It was peaceful enough in the truck; he was alone with only the radio rumbling in the background and the memories of sullen voices, coldness and apathy began to fade a little.

Everything else was fine. For the moment.

Some light rain sprinkled down, setting his windscreen alive with tiny stars, obscuring his vision only a little. People on the street hurried their pace, anxious to get out of it before it could become heavier. Jim could have told them not to bother. It would stop in a minute.

At least, it felt like that.

He pulled up at a traffic light and glanced at the shop windows to his left. In darkness, the glass made a mirror for him, displaying the blue and white truck in muted colours, his own shape inside, solitary, rigid and equally muted as though his existence had become suppressed by force he couldn't see.

He blinked at his image and turned back to the lights. The moment they turned green, he drove on.

He should never have agreed to it. Never have said he would go along with it. He'd done so out hope, expecting something of friendship to remain afterwards, expecting the sacrifice to have a mutual reward somewhere along the line. But he'd been wrong and now it was too late to go back on it, not without appearing to be the liar that he was - even if the lie wasn't his, even if he'd done it for the best reasons. Even if it was all over and it didn't really matter a damn any more.

Even if he had to live with a lie.

He drove on, allowing the mechanical movement of controlling the truck to soothe and calm him.

Over the last few months, this had become almost a hobby, his sole means of pacing his mind into quiet tremors which could hurt nobody. People had started to notice something was wrong - but hopefully it would still be some time before the usual questions were asked. And hopefully even longer before the more dangerous questions emerged. If ever.

He shuddered at the thought. He'd seen too many cops go the same way. He'd always believed he would never be among their number. He had always had firm control on his life and everything within it. Now however, he was no longer on the sidelines. Now the loss of control had embedded itself into almost every aspect of his life and only on these night drives could he feel any sense of freedom, experience any sense of self, of who he really was behind all the mess. However, he would still have to return home at the end of his drive, return and face what he'd become, what he'd lost - what he faced in his future.

A future that terrified him.

He turned again, this time into a street he hadn't been down before. It was virtually deserted but he drove slowly all the same. He was in no hurry. He was just using up time, nothing more. Using up energy, hoping that tonight, unlike all those other nights, he'd be able to sleep without the nightmares, without some insane sensory hallucination haunting him.

A faint neon light flashed towards the end of the street. He squinted into the distance, the pale pink lettering leaving streaky lines on the wet windshield. Barnies. A bar. Yeah, that's what he needed - a beer.

It wasn't beer that caused it, either. A year ago, when he'd first started having these . . . crazy turns . . . he'd tested just about everything he ate, used and wore, hoping, sure, in the beginning, that he was just having some bizarre reaction to something. Failure to find a cause had left him depressed - but at least able to take the simple pleasure of a brew.

He pulled the truck into the car park and got out. He could hear no blaring music from within which only encouraged him to enter. The door stuck as little as he pushed it and almost immediately a blast of warm air hit him. The place was dark and cozy. Maybe a dozen regulars dotted around the place. There was a juke box in the corner, but it was quiet; he could only just make out the strains of a Dusty Springfield song.

Yeah. This was exactly what he needed. Something horribly normal.

Relaxing more every minute, he wandered up to the bar and took a stool. He ordered a beer and as he waited, he glanced around. Booth tables lined one wall, the bar against the other. In the back was a pool table where a couple of guys were ensconced in a game. Even from here he could see the dollar bills sitting on the side of the table - a small and inconsequential bet he could afford to ignore. Other than that, there were a couple of other men further down the bar, engaged in quiet conversation, two couples lounging in a booth - and that seemed about it. So much the better. Nobody would expect him to talk.

Nobody would expect him to be anything other than what he seemed.

His beer arrived and he took a sip, his tastebuds rising to the bitter flavour he'd craved. He couldn't help the wave of relief which swept over him; some days he couldn't begin to guess which sense would fly off the handle - or when.

The beer was half gone before he glanced around again, his gaze resting on the only activity in the room - the pool game. The player at the table was a big guy, tall and broad, with the bearing of a truck driver. He was hunched over the table, his face screwed up with concentration as he took his shot. A faint click and a ball rolled away from him, dropping into a corner pocket. His companion complimented the shot and stepped back out of the way as the bigger man lined up the next.

Jim turned his attention to the other player, a faint smile drifting across his face as he calculated the differences between them. The second man was much smaller, not short exactly - but definitely younger. He seemed to have longish hair, tied back out of his face. He wore faded jeans and a flannel shirt, tucked in. Some faint flash of light in his left ear suggested an earring or two. From here, he barely looked old enough to drink legally.

The game continued - but the big guy's next shot missed, so the young guy took his turn. With a friendly shrug at his opponent, he proceeded to clear the table of balls with one deft shot after another. When he was done, he straightened up and held out his hand. The big man grunted, shook it and made for the bar. The dollar bills disappeared into the young man's pocket and he set about racking up another game.

The big man stopped at the bar beside Jim, stomped one foot down on the railing, leaned his weight on his elbow and ordered a beer. This seemed to be the kind of place that only sold beer - and one kind at that. Domestic.

"The kid's pretty sharp." The words were out before Jim could stop himself - ignoring every reason he'd come in here in the first place. He didn't want conversation - he wanted quiet. Even so, the big guy turned a dry gaze on him.

"Sure is. I know when I'm whipped."

"Beaten you before, has he?"

"Twice tonight. I'm not playing again. Can't have the little faggot taking all my beer money, can I?" This was said without rancor and Jim smiled.

"Perhaps I should teach him a lesson."

The big guy frowned, glanced over to the pool table then back at Jim. "Hey, man, don't go bruising the kid just 'cause he's queer. He don't mean no harm."

"Oh, no," Jim shook his head, "No, I mean with a game."

"Oh," the man grinned, showing off a gap in his front teeth. "Yeah, you look like you could afford to lose a few bucks. Be my guest. And don't let the hair and earrings fool you - he may be queer, but he knows his game."

Jim couldn't help the chuckle which floated up from his chest. This, strangely enough, was exactly the kind of company he'd been looking for, straightforward, down to earth - even though he hadn't known it. He picked up his beer and stood, "You know him?"

"Nah, not really. Comes in here two, maybe three times a week. Plays a few games then disappears." The man took a healthy swallow of his beer and nodded at Jim again, "Go on. I wanna see somebody else get whupped for a change."

"Right." Jim left the bar and made for the pool table. The kid was picking off practice shots and only stopped when Jim placed a ten dollar bill down on the table.

The young man straightened up then, his gaze lifting from the cash slowly until it met Jim's. Huge blue eyes regarded him steadily, sizing him up in a way that reminded him of his days in the army. The measuring of an opponent, gathering necessary intel before engaging. Jim could only smile.

"Hey, man. Willing to lose ten bucks, eh?" The kid grinned suddenly.

Jim shrugged, "I can afford to be over-confident. But if it's too much ..."

"No, no, it's cool. Take a cue."

With efficient hands, the kid put all the balls back on the table, filling the rack before positioning it over the mark. Jim grabbed a cue and chalked the end, catching the white ball as it was rolled over the green felt towards him.

The kid waved him forward, "Challenger breaks."

Jim positioned the ball, lined up his cue and focussed. This kid had a real ability - he couldn't afford to let his concentration drift. Angle of aim, angle of incidence, momentum and force. A simple game employing complex physics. One of his favorites.

And for a while he could forget. Everything. He could just be - and not remember why he had come out tonight. And with any luck, his lunatic senses would allow him to.

He took his shot, breaking the bunched balls but only enough for them to separate. None of them fell to a pocket so he stepped back and let the kid have a go.

His calm confidence faded rapidly however, as the kid picked off one after another. Each shot seeming to be more impossible than the last until, without a word, the kid bounced a double, clearing the table.

He at least had the grace to look a little abashed at his display. He straightened up, turned to Jim and held out his hand, "Sorry, man."

Abrupt laughter caught Jim unawares, lifting something inside him. It seemed way too long since he'd laughed. He shook the kid's hand and immediately began racking up again. "Right, no more Mr Nice Guy."

"Sure? I mean, there's no obligation or anything ..."

"What?" Jim shot a teasing glance at him, "Afraid you can't do it twice in a row?"

The kid spread his arms wide in a gesture both disarming and engaging, "Hey, I'm not one to boast but, you know, my game is pretty consistent."

Jim shook his head, watching where he placed the balls on the table, "You say the words, candy from a baby, Chief, and you will pay for it."

The kid raised his eyebrows, reaching for the chalk. "Now that sounds like a challenge."

Hiding his grin, Jim replied, "And I'm sure you're more than up to it."

"Big words, man, big words," The kid was chuckling as well, making a point of pocketing Jim's cash. "I always believe in giving a man a chance to win his money back."

"Good." Jim nodded, "You're obviously no hustler."

"Oh, why?"

"Well, you should have let me win the first frame - then offered to treble the bet for the next one."

"And then you would have beaten the shit out of me for hustling you." The young man shook his head, "No way. Not my style. My turn to break. Stand back."

"Sure." Jim stepped back, remembering to put another ten on the table edge. Now however, he concentrated not on the game but on the man, himself. He wasn't as young as he'd first appeared, probably somewhere in his mid twenties. His body appeared fit; broad shoulders hidden beneath checked flannel. Long fingers handled the cue with ease, the good-looking face composed as he prepared his shot. Two silver earrings hung from the left ear and a leather fetish dangled from his neck.

The sudden crack of the balls brought him back. He realized with surprise that it was his shot - and knowing how good the kid was, he decided not to waste it. He walked around the table a little, sizing up his options. Still undecided, he glanced at his companion, "You play much?"

"Few times a week. I'm playing hooky, actually."

"Hooky? You're a student?"

"Yep. Supposed to be writing a paper."

"Oh, and ... er ... you're just taking a break, right?"

"Yeah, man," the kid grinned, "you got it."

"Rainier?"

"Uh huh. What about you?"

Jim leaned over the table. Positioning his cue with great care, he aimed and shot. The white balled rolled smoothly along, hitting another which dropped neatly into the pocket. "I'm a cop."

"Oh."

Jim was through his third shot before he registered the reaction. "What's wrong? Don't like cops?"

"Nothing against them, really. Well, not me - but my mom could tell you a few stories."

"Probably heard them all."

"Yeah, me too."

Jim glanced up to find the man smiling, sharing the joke. It was a good smile, a genuine smile - though it took a few years off the already-young looking face. It was odd, but although they'd only been playing for a few minutes, there was something in that face, or maybe it was the voice, that made Jim feel like he'd known this man for a long time.

"The police have something like a real closed society, don't they?"

Jim shrugged, "I guess."

"But I mean, there's a whole initiation, rookie kind of thing happening, isn't there? Spouses and children are considered honorary members and embraced into the tribe if anything bad happens."

"Is that a definition of a ... closed society?"

"Uh, not really just ..."

Jim shook his head, "Ah, trying to put me off my game, right?"

The kid glanced away innocently. "No, just interested."

"In closed societies?"

"Oh, man, I'm interested in lots of things. You know when..."

Jim held up his hand, an almost imperious gesture that made the young man smile. He took his next shot - but missed. With something of a satisfied chuckle, the kid took the next and potted one ball - but he missed after that. Knowing it was now or never, Jim lined up again, potting one ball after another until he'd cleared the table. He straightened up to find a ten dollar bill sitting next to his own. He gazed down at them a moment then held his hand out. He was only a little shocked to see it wasn't quite as steady as it had been a moment ago.

The kid came close, shook his hand but before letting go, Jim murmured, "Do you want another game - or would you like to get out of here?"

Blue eyes widened a little and that mouth parted in some faint suggestion of surprise. For a long moment, the kid said nothing. Then, he nodded once, "I ... my place is just around the corner."

Jim let his hand go. "I'll follow you."

The kid nodded again, all surprise gone from his face, though Jim could see a faint rise of colour on those cheeks. The kid drained his beer, put his cue back on the wall rack and picked up his jacket. By the time he reached the bar, he had it shrugged on. "Night, Barnie."

"Night, Blair. Careful walking home."

"See ya, guys."

A general chorus of farewells sent the young man on his way. Only when he was a minute clear of the door, did Jim succeed in getting the shaking under control.

What the hell was he doing?

He hadn't even thought it through.

He'd just shaken the guy's hand and . . .

This was madness...

He carefully put his own cue away, sauntering over to the bar to place his empty glass back down. The big guy was smiling at him.

Total madness ...

"Well, it was a short lesson, but not bad for a start. At least he didn't fleece you."

What about his promises? What about the danger?

"No - but thanks for the support all the same."

He had to be insane...

The big guy laughed out loud, clapping Jim on the shoulder. In response, Jim waved a good night and headed for the door. Only years of practice kept his pace controlled, the twists of anticipation in his gut ignored for the moment.

He'd forgotten how cold it was outside. He walked clear of the bar then looked up the street. The kid was waiting for him on the corner - but even before Jim could move, he'd turned and headed down the next street.

It wasn't too late to back out. He could just turn for the truck, go home ... go home and ... and ...

Jim followed the kid, pushing his hands into his pockets, keeping his head down.

It had been so long since he'd done this. How many years? Not since the night before he'd married Carolyn. So, six years then. Six years since he'd last looked for this, since he'd last found it. And that last night so long ago had been frantic in so many ways, desperation tearing at him when he'd least expected it. His bucks' night had been planned by the guys - but when they'd dropped him off home, he'd grabbed a taxi and headed back into town. He'd known exactly what he'd wanted - it was to be the last time forever. He was getting married in the morning and he would be faithful to Carolyn regardless of how he felt.

So he'd found a man, in a wild and smoky bar. They'd gone to a hotel and Jim had made the most of his last night of freedom. He'd arrived home just on dawn, exhausted, sated in a way Carolyn could never give him, determined that he would never again touch a man sexually.

And yet, here he was, six years later, turning a corner somewhere in Cascade, following a student with blue eyes bigger than the sky. Of course, there was no guarantee anything would happen. Hell, for all he knew, the kid didn't have a clue as to what was really going on - but then again, there had been that recognition in those eyes, that brief parting of lips Jim had desperately wanted to kiss. No, the kid knew exactly what was going on here.

Still some way up ahead, the kid paused in front of a doorway. Glancing back again to where Jim followed, he turned, unlocked the door and disappeared. Speeding up his pace a little, Jim arrived moments later, went inside and pushed the door closed again.

A flight of stairs greeted him. A door led off either side on this level but both were closed. He began climbing to the first floor, then the second. On the third floor however, he came to a halt as sudden indecision flooded through him at the sight of the open door to his right. Lights were on inside and he could see just enough to make out a warm and inviting apartment beyond.

He would regret this. He knew that for a fact. Tomorrow he would regret this bitterly, curse himself for a fool - a reckless fool at that. Hadn't he promised? And what if his senses should react to . . . to . . .

No, he shouldn't be doing this, shouldn't be here, shouldn't .... Shouldn't.

Some blind thing in his gut urged him forward, screamed at him to do this, to acknowledge this need and act upon it, finally, before it was too late, before he got so bad that he couldn't see or move or touch . . .

But did he really need it so much that he had to do it like this? In the dead of night? With a man he'd met no more than an hour before?

Yes, that's exactly what he needed. He needed anonymity more than anything else; to be with somebody who knew nothing about him, nothing of who he was or why. Somebody who would ask him no questions, expect no answers and, ignorant, would notice nothing. Yes, he needed this. Needed it almost too much.

And this could be his last chance.

He left his hesitation and doubts in the hall and went in.

As the door snapped shut behind him the kid appeared, two glasses of whiskey in his hands. He gave one to Jim then, his gaze steady, threw back his own. For a moment, Jim simply watched him.

Yes, he was indeed beautiful, this student who should have been writing a paper. Very beautiful and Jim had no trouble feeling threads of desire wash through him, from head to toe, crashing into place at his groin. A heady mixture of whiskey and lust filled him as he drank and before he even thought about what he was doing, he'd dropped his glass to the carpet, stepped forward and pushed the young man up against the wall.

Surprise and not a little fear fringed eyes wide with equal amounts of anticipation. Jim wanted to ask about the fear but his body ruled him then. There was simply too much information flowing into his brain to allow him time to think. His hands could feel the strong body, hard muscles, racing pulse. He could smell the distinct scent on the air, the one he'd needed for so long but had insisted upon denying himself. His body knew this was a man, a willing man, and he had no choice but to respond.

With one hand, he held the young man in place. With the other, he cradled that face, lifting it up to meet him - and then he dived in, needing urgently, the taste of those lips. As they met, he groaned, pushing his tongue in further, driving his compulsion with a breath of his own fear. The body beneath his hands trembled but the mouth opened wider, allowing him access.

He took it.

More tastes came to him then, things he couldn't pause to identify. This mouth was hot and moist and he just wanted more and more of it. His tongue rasped against the other, flickering over teeth, sucking and pushing. He was instantly hard and he ground his erection against the young man's hip. His hand slipped up and pulled the tie free from long curls, reveling in the softness, the silky feel.

With a moan, Blair twisted his mouth away. He gasped for air as Jim trailed a line of kisses down his throat. He moved up again to take in a lobe, tasting cold metal in his travels, a sharp vivid taste, almost overwhelming. For a moment, his fear soared, but there was no further spike, no other thing out of place and that fear subsided, drowned by his desire and the presence of the man before him. His own heart pounded, rushing blood to vital parts of his deprived body. His own hands shook violently but it wasn't until he opened his eyes that he saw the affects of his needs on the other man.

Blair was staring at him, a little wild-eyed, a little stunned - but obviously very interested.

"I ... I'm sorry," Jim whispered.

"That's cool, man," Blair gave him a weak smile, making no move to escape. "I ... you just took me by surprise, that's all."

"Me too," Jim tried to laugh a little, but the shaking had affected his voice as well. "It's ... er ... been a while."

Blair nodded, "I guessed. Look, um ... do you want to ..."

"What?"

"Well ... I think we might be more comfortable in the ... er ... bedroom."

Reluctantly, Jim released him and stepped back. "Okay."

"Right." Blair studied him for a moment, as though he wanted to say something else - then turned and led the way down the hall. Jim did nothing to stop his gaze from lingering over the plane of his back, nor the tidy, inviting shape of his ass.

Six years was a long, long time.

Too long.

But even six years hadn't prepared him for the prize that he'd found. Six years of repressed desire for the male form did not make this man attractive - no, he was exquisite all on his own.

Jim followed down the hall and stopped at the bedroom door. Like the rest of this place, the room was filled with warm colours - and at this moment, a warm body. A single bedside lamp was on, keeping the light soft. Blair was waiting for him, undoing the buttons of his shirt with determined fingers. Entranced, Jim simply watched as the shirt fell away, as the t-shirt was lifted to reveal a lightly furred chest. Then the pale, faded jeans he'd liked so much. Blair sat on the edge of the bed, kicked off his shoes, then removed his jeans. With only the briefest moment of hesitation, he pulled his boxers off as well.

Jim drank in the sight of the naked man. Solid, compact body was cut with clear muscle lines - but not bulky. Instead, there was a firm beauty there, enhanced by the filmy shadows from the lamp. A narrow waist trickled down to a dark patch of thick curls. The cock which hung there was a thing of beauty itself, half-hard, proud, a size more than in proportion to his body, rounded balls hanging below almost a temptation in themselves. Strong muscled thighs completed the picture and Jim had to force air into his lungs in response.

As he watched, the cock filled more, until it stood out, begging attention. He moved closer, wanting to touch. A single drop of moisture emerged from the swollen head and his tastebuds yearned to know it more, better, fully and desperately. He would have reached out then, but at that moment, Blair turned, shivering slightly in the cool air. Without a word, he climbed into bed, pulling the covers over himself - but not before Jim caught sight again of that perfect ass.

The image set him into action. He stripped off his jacket, sweater and shirt in a manner almost perfunctory. It wasn't until he was unbuttoning his jeans that he realized Blair was watching him - and he slowed down a little. He almost flushed under that steady gaze, feeling the eyes rake over his body in the way that his had done earlier. But he continued on, easing his heavy cock from his boxers before kicking both shoes and clothes clear. He stepped towards the bed and Blair scooted over, lifting the covers for him to get in.

The cool sheets were warmed with the young man's body heat. Jim laid down on his side and instantly gathered the man to him, placing soft kisses along the collarbone and jaw. As he felt the naked length of Blair press against him, his body's urgency began to build again, scaring him. The last thing he wanted to do was to force or hurt this beautiful creature, but containing this compulsion was becoming more difficult as each moment went by.

Blair's arms came around him and this time he offered up his mouth to be kissed. Jim welcomed the offering, kissing deeply and once more tasting what he needed, there, inside this man. But even as he did so, his hands were questing further, feeling the soft, springy hair on the muscled chest, pinching a nipple as he went, moving on, down, down until he could feel with his own flesh, what he needed to know was there.

A hard groan filled his ears as his hand finally found that burning shaft. Hips thrust into his grip and he held the cock firmly, his fingers feeling each ridge and ripple, touching that steady leak of moisture which set his blood on fire. His thumb caught it, smearing it over the rounded head, massaging it in with a frisson of hunger.

This was like returning home from battle.

He took another searing kiss before lowering his lips to a tender nipple. There his tongue made love to the bud, forcing it up to peak and shiver under his ministrations. Eager for more, he shifted again, gathering the other into his mouth, nipping and biting until that too, was pink and sensitive. Then the mouth again begged his attention, those full lips wet and needy. Like a man starved, he dived in, sucking, lapping, biting a little, his belly churning with this irrepressible need.

He let Blair free only long enough to breathe, his fingers still caressing the glorious cock in his hand.

"What ..." Blair murmured, eyes closed, body stiff with wanting. "What's your name?"

Shock registered on Jim slowly - but he came to a halt, waiting until those eyes opened and gazed at him, edged with unveiled desire. "Sorry. I ... got distracted. Jim. Call me Jim."

A smile greeted him, not displeased at this admission. "I'm ..."

"Blair. I heard." Hoping he'd been forgiven his error, Jim settled a little, allowing his cock to push up against the man's thigh once more, where warm flesh kept it company. "I am sorry. Like I said, it's been a long time for me. I didn't mean ..."

"That's okay," Blair grinned, his voice husky. "I'll take it as a compliment."

"You should," Jim smiled back.

"I um ..."

"What?"

Blair let his gaze wander, taking in Jim's face, his shoulders, the chest revealed as the covers had fallen back. Finally, those eyes returned and Blair swallowed, "I just thought you should know ... I um ... I've never been with ..."

Jim froze, his hand flinching away from the cock. "Then why ..."

"Hey, man," Blair grinned again, grabbing his hand and replacing it. His hips shifted a little, moving him closer and further into Jim's grip. "Don't stop. I didn't say I didn't want to - just that I never have before. Don't make me wish I hadn't said anything."

"But," Jim frowned, "are you sure? I don't want ..."

"You're not forcing me, man. I knew what this was about back in the bar. I've always wanted to do this and really, I promise you, it's impossible to fantasize I'm in bed with a woman when you've got shoulders like that."

"No?" Jim smiled a little, his unease vanishing in the wake of that warm smile, that voice which reached inside him.

"No - especially when I encounter other bits of ... equipment." With that, Blair's hand squeezed down between them to touch, gently, the head of Jim's cock.

That one touch set Jim on fire again. With a lunge, he rolled over until Blair was trapped beneath him. Once more he took hot kisses, feeling the man's body respond to each one, small, husky groans caressing his ears. This kid might be a virgin with men, but there was no doubt he wanted it. No doubt at all.

Jim didn't pause to question again. Instead, he slipped down, kissing and licking, tasting fevered flesh with his tongue, desperate now to gain his fill. He reached the flat stomach, dipping his tongue into the navel, receiving another groan for his efforts. He carried on, moving further south until his mouth finally gained its prize. He swallowed the shaft whole, drinking in the shout of surprise and ecstasy Blair gave him. With his hands holding the man's hips down, he began to suck hard, feeling no quarter in him to be given. The cock tasted magnificent, all hot and sweaty and musky and so incredibly male, he almost came with the simple knowledge of what he was doing. He plunged down again, until the head butted against the back of his throat, before easing it out again slowly, so slowly, living with the taste, the texture, the blood pounding along the shaft . . . all so . . . so . . .

Jim almost stopped as a wave of fear crashed over him. His senses . . . were . . . not spiking exactly, not like before, not with pain, no, but . . .

God, all so alive! So aware. So aroused to some higher level where everything he was experiencing with this man seemed so much more than what he'd been expecting, than he'd ever felt before. Was this also his imagination, making up for six years of denial?

Did it matter?

Jim grinned around the beautiful cock, letting his tongue swirl and play, determined to enjoy every part of this night to the full. If this was how his senses wanted to be, he was in no mood to stop it. Not when it was like this. Blair writhed beneath him, moaning continuously now and Jim knew that if he didn't stop, it would all be over too soon.

Reluctantly, he let most of the cock slide out of his mouth and instead, concentrated on licking the long shaft slowly, teasing, breathing across the wet head, pausing long enough to look closely, allowing his eyes to have their fill of this insane act. Blair's cock was beautiful, from the hard, rosy head, down the silky shaft to the dark curls nestled at its base. His fingers scraped over the balls hidden there and he ducked down to take first one, then the other into his mouth. He came up again, trailing his tongue along the crease between groin and thigh until he could return to sucking cock.

He'd always loved sucking cock.

He took the head into his mouth again, letting his tongue dip into the slit, finding more of the salty fluid there waiting for him. He sucked it down his throat again, thirsty for more, while his hand pumped slowly, deliberately.

"Jim..."

Blair was breathing harsh and short now. Jim didn't want to leave this tasty morsel - but he knew he had to. As much as he wanted the taste of semen again - and this man's in particular - there were other things he needed right now as well.

With a groan of his own, he let the cock fall from his mouth, forced his fingers to move away. Blair remained where he was for a minute - then suddenly he rolled over, his face diving for Jim's groin.

"Oh, god!"

Jim nearly arched off the bed as his cock was swallowed. Urgent fingers dug into his ass cheeks as Blair sucked him hard. Almost immediately, the sucking tapered off a little, to become a smooth up and down motion. Blair was inviting him to fuck his mouth and Jim, too far away from these joys for too long, had no will in him to refuse.

He pushed himself up on one elbow. He had to see this with his own eyes. Those lips wrapped around his erection, that look of wanton desire on Blair's face, the determination with which his shaft was pumped were all too much. Sinking back down, he gently rolled, letting Blair move with him until Jim was on his hands and knees over the young man, thrusting into his mouth.

He might have been a virgin with men, but the kid must have had a few amazing blow-jobs in his life. No awkwardness there. No hesitation. He licked and sucked and pulled as though he'd been doing it for years, touching every sweet spot Jim had - and Jim reveled in each moment, his whole body singing with disbelief that he had, purely by chance, found somebody like this, somebody who put his entire self into bed with Jim.

There seemed no explanation for it - but somehow, there were no barriers between them. They co-existed on the same plane of unashamed and long-denied need.

And the balance was near perfect.

His body began to shake with the strain of holding his orgasm at bay. His ass clenched with the effort, his heart pounded, his breathing stunted. But the mouth was so hot and moist, Blair's hands so warm and welcome, he couldn't bring himself to pull away yet. But he needed some warning, some word... the kid wouldn't want to swallow ... not the first time .... "Blair ... I'm close ... too good..."

Blair sucked him harder, as though determined to have this - and Jim gave up the fight. He fucked Blair's mouth like it was the last thing on this earth, drowning everything else in his life under the mind-blowing sensations centered on his cock. He trembled, his arms threatening to fold - but at the last minute, he felt it. The pleasure rose to numbing proportions, blinding him at the last moment. With a cry, it peaked and he jerked his cock deeper, filling Blair's mouth with his seed, again and again, his grunts punctuating each thrust. Blair swallowed, catching it all, groaning along with Jim, drinking as Jim would have done until there was no more. Even then his tongue continued to move, gently lapping up the last until he released Jim's softening cock, cleaned and ready for next time.

Jim used his last remaining brain cells to force his body sideways. Like a tree, he fell, arms and legs a tangled heap. It was a full minute before his eyes could open and the first thing that greeted them was Blair's hard cock, inches away from his face. His mouth watered at the prospect.

"Wow." Dry throat made the word come out all husky and raw.

"Wow?" Blair sat up, turning in bed to meet him face to face. A shy smile laced those eyes with wonder. "Did you say wow?"

"Yep." Jim disciplined his facial muscles into a smile - but it was hard going. He must be getting old. It had been a long time since he'd come as hard as that.

About six years perhaps? Probably longer, now that he thought about it.

"Cool!" Blair chuckled - and Jim laughed along with him. No, this man wasn't just beautiful on the outside - and perhaps that was what had drawn him in at the bar: the glow in those eyes, the warm readiness in that smile - and a voice that seemed to have some kind of strange, delicious power over him. This man was not afraid of showing what he thought and felt. What he wanted. Wasn't afraid to give and receive. To feel.

As the stealing lethargy abated a little, Jim wrapped his arms around Blair, pausing only a moment before taking another kiss. This time he could afford to be a little gentle and Blair responded with almost heartbreaking sweetness. The familiar flavour of traces of his own semen in the mouth of another made it even more so - especially entwined with Blair's own taste. All of these things he could taste and feel so wonderfully now.

Yes, this man was very special indeed - and Jim could only be grateful that not only had he found such a man tonight - but that he, rather than some ham-fisted slob, had had the opportunity to be Blair's first. In this man, that was such a precious gift.

Slowly, the kisses warmed him inside again. Soothing hands ran down his back, touching him in a way he'd needed and denied. Blair felt so good to hold, so different and yet, exactly what Jim needed to hold, right at this moment. They fit together so perfectly, it was hard to believe they hadn't been made for each other.

He broke off the kiss to give the young man time to breathe. Blair settled against him, his cock still hard but obviously prepared to wait. "Yeah," he murmured. "Wow."

"So," Jim mused quietly, "you don't regret it?"

"No way, man!" Blair chuckled. "You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that. It was ... incredible. Seeing you come ... tasting you .... Like you said, wow."

Jim touched a small kiss to the young man's forehead. Then he moved back a little, needing to see that amazing face now. "Will you ... I'd like you to fuck me."

Those blue eyes widened - but not with horror. No, there was some serious desire glowing in there, along with a few other things.

"If you want to, that is."

"If I ..." Blair stuttered a moment before he realized Jim was toying with him. In response, he darted forward for a hard kiss of his own which encouraged more than a flutter of interest in Jim's cock. Before it was over, he was amazingly hard again, denying his age with rampant need.

Taking his own breathing space, he snuggled in closer, running his hands down Blair's back until they cupped that beautiful ass in a manner suggestive of what he'd just asked for. The tender flesh beneath his fingers almost made him suggest something else ... but not quite. "You have anything we could use for lubrication?"

"Lubrication ... oh god," Blair murmured, as though just realizing what they were about to do. "Yeah, sure." He left Jim's arms and rummaged in the bedside drawer. He returned holding a small tube. "This do?"

Jim nodded, rolling onto his stomach. "You need ...?"

"No, man, I know, it's cool." Blair said these words with confidence - but his slightly unsteady voice gave away his anticipation.

Unseen by him, Jim smiled into the bed. He remembered all too well the first time he'd taken a man. He spread his legs wide and waited for Blair to settle between them. Closing his eyes, he tried not to listen to the mechanics, instead, concentrated on that first needed touch.

A finger brushed against his opening, cool and moist with gel. Harsh determination stopped him from thrusting up to take it inside. He knew he had to be patient. It had been more than seven years since he'd last taken it - he couldn't afford unnecessary injuries.

The finger probed gently, as though Blair too, could remember how long it had been. Then a little pressure and Jim breathed deeply to relax himself. A moment later, the finger was inside him and his muscles clenched against it, holding it deep, giving it a welcome.

God, such a long time.

Blair moved his finger deeper, sliding in and out a little and Jim relaxed more. God, he needed this, needed it badly.

He didn't notice until the second finger entered him, slick and smooth. This time, his hips rose without thought, taking them deeply. They moved inside him, angling this way and that until ...

"Oh, god!" Jim grunted, gasping in a breath with shock, his whole body rigid. "I'd forgotten ..." Forgotten how good that felt, how one single touch to his prostate could send shivers down his spine, make his whole body tremble. His cock was now a rock pressed into the sheets, almost painfully. He desperately needed to move - but he couldn't; those fingers held him captive, fucking him slowly and neatly, just as he'd wanted. The familiar pressure in his ass made him tingle all over. He wanted to stretch and curl up and take more all at the same time.

"One more," Blair whispered and Jim could hear the awe in that warm voice.

"You okay?"

"Uh, yeah," Blair acknowledged. "I just don't know how long I'll last once I'm ... er ... inside you, that's all. This is pretty hot, man."

"Uh huh." Jim groaned out loud again as the third finger penetrated him, once more raking over that spot. If this kept up, he'd be lucky to survive long enough to regret it in the morning. He was getting old. His body just couldn't take this kind of pleasure any more, especially when his senses were delivering so many wonderful, tiny details to him, the scent of what he assumed was Blair's arousal, each small indentation of the fingers pushing into his ass, the heat of Blair's body and the subtle changes to the timbre of his voice, betraying his desire.

But his body could take it - and did. He could feel his hole stretching to accommodate the three fingers, feel his erection grind into the sheets as though his body had an agenda all it's own - and number one on the list right now was to get that man's cock shoved up his ass.

"Please, Blair, now."

"Yeah," Blair's voice came out distracted and hit Jim right where he needed it. Blair pulled his fingers away and Jim understood the short wait. He closed his eyes and pictured Blair smearing gel on his cock, smoothing it over that hard, rosy head, making it ready.

Then the weight on the bed shifted as Blair placed his hands either side of Jim. Spreading his legs wider, Jim prepared himself for that first thrust, the one he needed so badly. He held his breath as the hard cock head nudged against his hole, seeking out where to go and then it was pushing against him, forcing its way inside and god, it hurt, yes, it hurt like his first time, like he was the virgin, the cock was splitting him in two -

But he took it. He took it into him, loving the pain for what it meant, knowing it would go away in a minute, but god, oh god, it felt so good to have a man in his ass again, so good, so damn fucking good to be fucked again after so long -

And Blair's cock filled him, sliding in slowly, filling him up with hardness his body was desperate for and god, yes, he wanted this, needed this, needed it to be a man and not some toy, needed to feel the body rest down on him, needed to feel the whole length slide into him until it was all there, all the way inside him, balls resting on balls, body resting on body and Jesus, how had he managed to live without this for so long -

And the pain diminished and died, leaving him with just the hot pleasure, the hot weight, the feel of that furred chest against his back, the sweat sheened skin slipping against his own, the strong thighs between his, angling and lifting, withdrawing that cock slowly, achingly, before pushing back into him -

Blair was fucking him.

"Feels ... so good ..." the words fell out of Jim, tumbling into the wasteland of his abstinence.

"Oh yeah," Blair whispered, kissing his shoulder, "Very good."

"So hard ..." Jim thrust his hips up to meet Blair's cock, feeling it squeeze another inch into him. He could feel it in his belly, right where he wanted to. He didn't want this to stop, didn't want it to end, wanted Blair to go right on fucking him.

"God, Jim, this is . . . this feels . . .. oh . . ." Blair gasped, grunting with the effort of going slow. "How long?"

"Seven, eight years."

"Hell!" Blair kissed his other shoulder, his teeth nipping with a sharp pain Jim welcomed. He withdrew again, angling this time for Jim's prostate. The brush, hard and violent, made Jim gasp out loud, sending fired messages to his whole body. His cock flinched and suddenly Blair's hand was there, snaking past his stomach to hold and caress. Jim worked his way into Blair's fist then settled enough to let the man fuck him properly.

Blair lifted himself up a little then, his thrusts speeding up as though he would push himself deeper with each one. Jim was dizzy now, dizzy for air, for completion, for the joining he could only get like this. His whole body began to shake and fear clutched at him, fear that this coupling would indeed kill him because it felt like that, felt like something was coming to an end and it was, it was, some part of his life closed off and hidden and denied and longed for, some part of himself he'd needed and lost and it was ending, all of that, ending and opening up to be taken by this beautiful man, as his ass was being taken, each plunge inside him edging him closer to a precipice he needed to leap.

"Oh, god," Jim breathed, hardly more than a whisper, "that's so good." Blair's hand pumped him in time with his thrusts, Blair's lips caressed his back, Blair's body pinned him down, Blair's cock invaded him and he could see nothing of it, only feel it, feel something after so long, so very long of feeling nothing at all.

"Jim ... so ... incredible ..." But Blair's voice was gone with his exertions, driven from him as his body slipped out of his control, cock pounding instead. Jim heard a sharp gasp, felt a sudden jabbing thrust - and then the man was coming, coming inside him, filling him, the burn of hot semen splashing against his prostate and it was too much, way too much and he cried out, coming and coming in Blair's hand, falling and falling so hard and so fast and so wonderfully he could only fly with it and let the joy fill him with each drop of Blair's essence.

The fall to earth was sudden and mutual. As Blair collapsed down onto him, Jim felt all his muscles spasm and relax. For long minutes, all he could hear was the sandpaper rasp of two sets of lungs desperately trying to compensate.

He wanted to laugh - would have if it had been at all physically possible. So he contented himself with a lazy smile, happy to wait for the oxygen content in his body to return to normal, happy to wait until Blair recovered enough to withdraw from him, happy to just ... yeah, just fucking happy. Just happy fucking. Whatever.

"Jim?" A small, pale voice murmured next to his ear before pressing a kiss to his neck.

"Yeah?"

"You ... gotta tell me, man."

"What?"

"Is it ... always that good?"

Jim couldn't stop the smile which filled his words, "I wish I could say it was."

"Okay. Just checking." Blair shifted a little, "Guess I'd better move, let you breathe."

With what seemed a lot of effort, Blair pushed himself up and then slowly and gently pulled his softening cock out of Jim's passage. Jim would have turned then, but Blair stopped him with a hand on his leg. "Just wait a moment."

Seconds later, he felt something soft and cool press against him, cleaning him up. Then Blair urged him over onto his back, and cleaned the mess on his stomach and cock. Jim watched the intense concentration on the man's face, feeling something else besides contentment.

This could become addictive. Not just the sex - but this man.

Yeah, very addictive.

When Blair was finished, he held out a hand and Jim sat up, turning so once more, his head was on the pillow. He stretched out, pulling the covers over them both, settling Blair down against his side. Only then did he take a kiss. It felt like a simple one to begin with, but slowly it deepened until it became something else, something ... cherished, something that had nothing to do with sex or passing years or regaining something of himself. This was a meeting, here, a joining of something else entirely and as though it were a drug, he wanted more.

The balance was perfect.

How long the kiss lasted, he had no idea but when they finally parted, Blair gazed steadily at him, all signs of humour long gone. Jim could only gaze back, surprised a little but content for the moment, that what he'd felt was mutual. Then Blair's gaze moved again, once more dusting over his face like a caress.

"You want to stay the night?"

"I'd like to," Jim replied softly, not letting the moment go.

Blair smiled a little, his gaze locking back on. "I'd like you to as well." He moved back down until his head rested on Jim's chest, their arms around each other. "Glad that's settled."

"Yeah."

"You can turn out the light whenever you're ready."

Jim chuckled then, lifting an arm until his fingers found the lamp switch. As the bedroom was plunged into darkness, the rich voice came to him once more.

"Man, I am so glad I played hooky tonight."

Long tendrils of sunlight warmed Jim's face, making him turn towards it. For a moment, he just let it sit and welcome him, then slowly and carefully, he opened his eyes.

Beside him, resting on another pillow, was the man he'd picked up last night. Blair. Soft curls splayed out on the cotton, eyes closed, mouth open a little, face turned slightly towards Jim. One arm was buried beneath the sheets, the other was stretched out, fingers touching Jim's shoulder.

Awesome. The first word that sprang into his mind surprised him - but not for long. He couldn't remember the last time he'd woken like this, woken up feeling so relaxed, so fresh, so ready for the day. But to feel so good - and to wake up with that still next to him just made it all seem so ... awesome.

And it seemed the strange heightened level his senses had risen to had been a momentary thing. Now, everything was back to normal - or as normal as he got these days. Still, for all the trouble they had caused him over the last year, at least this time they'd given him a gift. So, when he finally sank into madness with them, he'd have to try to hold on to the memory of last night.

His gaze flicked away to the alarm clock just long enough to register that he still had a few hours before he had to get back. But by the time he returned to the other man, he found sleepy blue eyes blinking at him. A hand moved, smoothing over the face in a gesture Jim read easily.

"Good morning." He murmured with something of a smile.

"'Morning. What time is it?"

"A little after seven."

"Oh, okay."

"You got to be somewhere?"

"Not till eleven. Got a class. You?"

"Start work at eleven."

Half a sleepy grin woke more of Blair's face up. "Can't wait to tell my mom I slept with a cop."

Jim chuckled, "Oh? You going to tell her I'm not a female cop?"

"Sure. Why not? She's cool. An honest-to-god hippie. I never asked her but I'm sure she's had her own ... adventures."

"So ... how do you feel after your first adventure?" Jim tried but couldn't quite keep a note of wary hesitation out of his voice.

"Well, that depends."

"On what?"

"On how you feel."

Jim grinned, "I feel good, great in fact."

"Me too," the imp grinned in reply.

Shaking his head, Jim moved in closer, letting his fingers touch that face, feel the contours gently. Blair closed his eyes and allowed the caress, his own hands moving to Jim's shoulders, sliding up his neck until he could pull Jim down for a kiss.

Old flavours and new mixed together in the early morning and Jim drank them all in, once more reveling in the fortune that had landed him here, in this man's bed. He slid in closer, almost instantly encountering the hardness ready between Blair's legs. A smile of delight interrupted his kiss and he lifted the covers to glance down. "Mmmn, that looks like trouble."

"Oh, it could be," Blair sighed. "There's just no telling some days."

Laughing like a kid, Jim swooped down and stole another long, deep kiss, his body taking control of the rest, shifting until he lay full on the smaller man. With gentle nudges, he pushed their erections together, sliding back and forth until the young man was moaning beneath him. Only then did Jim begin to regret something of last night. He'd been so deep in need, he'd not spent anywhere near enough time simply giving to this man and he wanted to; he delighted in the noises he made, the flush of desire on his face, the heavy-lidded gaze filled with wanting.

So he moved slowly this morning, leaving moist, wanton kisses across that face, along the jaw, down the throat before biting hard and sucking in the flesh of the shoulder. He checked the mark, to make sure it would last, then moved on.

"You're gonna shame me, man," Blair whispered, more than susceptible to the gentle rocking against his cock. "I'm going to have to go into class with a giant hickey on my neck and face all the questions alone."

"Just tell them I was a brute. You'll only get sympathy then."

"And you are a brute," Blair arched up against him, urging closer contact and Jim began to move a little faster, riding their cocks together without the urgency of last night, but instead, with an incredible sweetness that surprised him. He'd never been much for early morning sex - but this morning, it seemed not only necessary, but irresistible.

He twisted himself until he could take one of those delicious nipples in his mouth. This time, he allowed himself to fully absorb the affect on Blair. The young man trembled with each lap of Jim's tongue, groaned with each nip and suck - and again as Jim shifted and headed for its twin.

Blair's hands weren't idle, either. They reached for Jim's chest, squeezing firm pecs before pinching Jim's own nipples, forcing a low moan out of him. Then they slipped around his back, cupping his ass to push their hips closer together. A single finger grazed along the crack between and briefly, Jim wondered if he could take it again so soon - and just like that, he was close, perched on the edge, ready to fall without grace.

"Jim ..." Blair's voice soaked into him, a music he doubted he would ever get tired of. He opened his eyes to see Blair flushed and panting, a little hesitant.

"What?"

"Can I ..."

"Please," Jim replied instantly. With a final ferocious kiss, he slid off the other man and lay on his side. Immediately, Blair curled up behind him, his hand slipping down once again to that place. Fingers probed gently, sending urgent messages to Jim's cock.

"You okay with this? Not sore from ... last night?"

"Not enough. Go on."

"You're still relaxed," Blair's words touched him like a caress, full of delight and promise. "And wet."

"Yeah. Wet from you." Jim moved back into the touch, feeling two seeking fingers enter him, his passage still slick with Blair's semen. "Please."

And then the fingers were gone and suddenly, that long, hard length replaced them, easing in without any trouble at all. Once fully sheathed, Blair wrapped his arms around Jim, taking his cock to pump it gently. In time with that rhythm, he began to fuck Jim slowly, sliding his cock in and out as Jim held out, held on and once more, wished it could go on forever.

"Had no idea ..." Blair grunted with the effort, "that it would be this good, being with a man, fucking a man . . ."

"Good, yeah." Jim shook his head, "Not going to last long."

"Just a little longer." Blair thrust harder now, one hand drifting down to tug at Jim's balls before rising to pinch a nipple.

The combined stimuli was too much for Jim. With a warning shout, he shoved back to take the cock deep, then forward into Blair's waiting fingers. His entire body shook with his climax, spiraling something deep and shocking inside him where it blossomed into heat. Blair rode out his orgasm then continued to thrust, faster now, catching up and Jim stayed with him, enjoying this more than he would ever find words for.

And then Blair was gripping his hips, shoving them together and suddenly, he cried out, filling Jim with his completion. Waves of pleasure shot through Blair and into Jim's flesh until they all but faded, leaving them collapsed and exhausted.

Drained, Jim hauled in air, shifting slightly as Blair withdrew. "Jeeze, Chief, one night with you could kill a man if he wasn't fit."

Blair gave him a lazy chuckle, climbed over him and back into his arms. "So ... all that muscle was just for me, eh?"

"Never know when you're going to need it." Jim pulled him close and took a deep kiss, and just like last night, there was something more to it ... as though it was less a physical kiss and more something else.

Damn it, if only he could find words for this ... this thing. But whatever it was, at least as much of it was also coming from Blair, in the way he lay in Jim's arms, the way his hands moved, his mouth opened and drew Jim down, as though he too, was in the same state of wonder.

So sweet, this. So very sweet.

And then they had to breathe again and Jim simply held him tighter, Blair simply snuggled in closer and they stayed that way for minutes that seemed both too short and too long.

Finally, afraid he would fall asleep again, Jim shifted. His body gave up some muted signs of life and he sighed, "I have to go."

"Yeah."

"Hey, when's that paper of yours due in?"

"Monday. Don't worry, I'll get it done tonight. Piece of cake."

"Ah, the brilliant student."

"You don't know I'm brilliant."

"I do. You are."

"Yeah?"

Jim turned and looked at the slightly surprised face, "Yeah. You're also beautiful, did I tell you that?"

"No," Blair, suddenly shy again, smiled a little. "Really?"

"Very." Jim gave him a brief kiss, "But I still have to go."

The smile faded, "Yeah. I guess so."

Jim waited, some small part of him hoping the man would want to see him again - but even as he did so, he knew it was impossible. To cover his suddenly sharp disappointment, he took a farewell kiss, but as though the bitterness was already flooding through him, this kiss had none of the previous joy in it. As a result, he ended it before it could become obvious to both of them; this ... adventure had been too good for him to spoil it with real life regrets.

With that, he let the man go and rolled out of bed. He wandered into the bathroom, relieved himself, splashed some water on his face and other parts of his body, dried off, then returned to put on his clothes. Blair was up then, a robe pulled around him. Once Jim was done, he headed for the door, Blair following close behind.

With his hand on the lock, he paused, turning to face Blair. "Listen, I really enjoyed this."

"Me too," Blair smiled, his eyes brilliant.

Jim could only nod, opening the door to let himself out. He was at the top step before that voice made him pause.

"Jim?"

"Yeah?"

"Be careful, okay?"

Jim grinned at the small figure standing in the doorway. "Sure, Chief, always." And then he was jogging down the stairs, some part of his mind registering that his truck was still parked at the bar and hoping nobody had ripped off the tires.

Another part of him however, remained back in that apartment, back in the arms of a man so special, Jim was sure he'd never be able to forget him.

Blair pushed the door closed behind Jim and leaned back on it for a moment, listening to footsteps trudging down the stairs. Then, with a grin on his face, he shuffled into the kitchen, grabbed some juice and went back to bed. Without a thought, he tossed off his robe and climbed back under the covers.

Some parts of his body still tingled with the remnants of sex and he stretched out, feeling his joints pop, his sinews come alive.

Yeah, that's exactly how he felt. Tired but alive.

God! What a night!

What a man!

And he'd done it, hadn't he? Finally slept with a man. After all those times when he thought he might and then hadn't. All those nights spent wondering what it would be like and then all those mornings after when he'd realized that he was either chicken or perhaps just not ready.

But last night - well, he'd had no idea at all that he was that ready.

It was so nice just lying in bed and ... and feeling it again, remembering, with it all so fresh, having Jim's arms around him - and sundry other parts of his body.

He giggled. He felt like a teenager again, flushed with his first sexual experience. Of course, in a way he was - and somehow, in amongst all that sensual pleasure, Jim had given that to him, for a second time in his life.

With a yawn, he glanced at the clock. He could afford another hour in bed - but to be honest, he didn't much feel like sleeping right now. No, right now he felt like having a shower ... oh, and maybe changing the sheets and ... and... yeah, finishing that paper. Actually, a few hours of study before class was exactly what he felt like doing.

Yep, this gave the term 'sex therapy' a whole new meaning.

Laughing at himself, he rolled out of bed and set about the day.

By the time Jim got to work, he had the compulsion to smile continually almost under control.

Almost.

And when Rafe insisted on sharing his latest batch of terrible jokes, Jim - for the first time in his life - laughed.

He'd never found report-writing so much fun but today, he enjoyed it - mostly because, at odd moments, some word he'd see or a subtle sound on the air would remind him of Blair in some way and then a whole memory would come back, clean and clear, enriching last night's experience all the more.

And this morning's.

So, maybe he was crazy and maybe yes, he would be regretting it plenty very soon - the moment the afterglow wore off - but right now, this morning, even perhaps for the rest of this day, he would just fucking well enjoy it. It had been too damned long since he'd felt this good, since he'd found somebody who could make him feel this good.

Every man deserved a reprieve at some point, didn't they?

Blair sat at the park table, his chin resting on his hand, idly tapping a pen against a book he'd long since forgotten. His gaze drifted across the quad, ostensibly directed at the building opposite, where his office was - but he might have been looking at a conjurer pulling rabbits out of a hat for all the difference it made.

His thoughts, as they had been over the last week, were all centered around a certain man, who he was, where he lived, what his phone number was - and why in gods name, Blair hadn't asked when he could.

And hell, he didn't even know the man's last name! He could hardly go traipsing through the doors of Cascade PD, asking for a cop called Jim. He couldn't even be sure that Jim was his real name.

Of course, said cop hadn't so much as asked to see him again, had he? He could have - and Blair was pretty certain he would have said yes. Then again, maybe it was because Jim was a cop. Maybe he didn't want to take that risk again unless it was necessary.

And that night a week ago had certainly seemed necessary. In fact, that had been perhaps the strongest feeling Blair had had right in the beginning. The man's need had almost radiated off him. Blair wasn't too proud to admit that that alone, had turned him on something fierce.

God, even now he could get hard just thinking about being in bed with Jim. For so long he'd wanted it, had come close a few times but always, he'd shrunk away, fearing something he couldn't name. But then last week, this stranger, this cop had uttered those few words and whammo, Blair was there, offering his place, his bed, his body - and there had been not so much as a murmur of hesitation within him. He'd not even felt awkward when the big cop had pushed him against the wall and kissed him or when he'd undressed before the man. No, instead, he'd almost fainted with desire. Like a damned schoolboy!

And then ... bed and ... the sex ... and ...

The kiss afterwards.

Both times.

He groaned as he felt his face flush once more. Like a dozen times during the week, his body betrayed his memory, conjuring up images he couldn't afford to think about. He'd got so much done, his energy fired up, his mind busy with a million things and then, like now, he'd have a quiet moment and suddenly, his thoughts were consumed in a manner he couldn't ignore.

Well, what would happen if he did walk into Cascade PD and asked about Jim? It wasn't like he wouldn't be able to give a good description.

'Tall, gorgeous, perfect body, eyes that look right through you, incredible ass, delicious cock, kisses like a demon.'

Yeah, right.

He chuckled at his own silliness. Great idea, Sandburg. And now for my next trick...

"Hey, Blair?"

He started and looked up, "Oh, hey, Elise. Take a seat."

The TA dumped her bag down on the table and sat opposite him. She pulled out a sandwich and commenced unwrapping it. "Can you believe the Board? How's the library going to cope with two less staff? I can't get catalogued items as it is."

"I can't believe it either. Is Mary leaving?"

"I think so." Elise shrugged, brushing her blonde curls away from her face. "You just can't ever tell where the axe will fall next, right?"

"Oh, come on, Elise, Rainier's physics department gets twice the funding the rest of us do. I'll get booted long before you do."

"Why? They think the sun shines out of you. You're the golden boy, remember?" Elise took a mouthful of bread and planted her elbows on the table. "You still haven't found a research subject, have you?"

"Oh, I've got hundreds of research subjects - just none of them have the exact thing I'm looking for."

"Can't you make do?"

"I guess I'll have to if something doesn't come up soon." Blair sighed and crossed his arms on the table. "To tell you the truth, I haven't given it much thought lately."

Elise grinned, "So, who's the lucky girl."

Blair wasn't quite quick enough to hide his reaction - so he tried to cover it instead, "Sorry?"

"Hey, man, I saw you first thing ... what was it, Friday morning last week? I know you, Blair Sandburg. I know exactly what you look like after you've spent a night shagging your brains out. She must have been pretty special though - judging from the smile on your face. So tell me, who is she? From campus? Do I know her?"

"Um ..." Blair frowned, unable for once, to gather up enough threads of a lie to make it worth his while. "No. Not from campus."

"Where did you meet her?"

Oh god, this was getting impossible. "At ... at a bar."

"Oh? This place have any nice guys sitting around unattached?"

Blair almost laughed - but instead, decided to come clean. Elise was about his closest friend on campus. She wouldn't say anything. "Actually, yeah. Or at least, one that I noticed."

She was a bright girl - but it still took her about half a minute to let Newton's Laws control the penny.

Her sandwich fell to the table, her jaw almost following it. "Blair!" She breathed, shock whitening her face. "You didn't! With a guy? But ... but ... God!"

Still stunned, she sat back, gazing at Blair with new eyes. Blair kept his silence, almost -but not quite - squirming under that scrutiny. Eventually, she shook her head slightly, leaning forward to say in a hushed whisper. "I know you said, maybe a year ago, that you wouldn't mind trying it on with a guy, but you know, I never thought you'd actually do it! But then, I suppose there was that Sean, last summer? You and he seemed like you would get it together but you never said anything and I thought maybe you didn't want to talk about it or that maybe you had done it and you'd decided it was a mistake or something but ... you didn't, did you? With Sean?"

"No," Blair shook his head, doing his best to calmly fold his hands together on the table. With any luck, this ordeal would be over soon.

"So," Elise murmured after a moment, pausing to pop open a can of coke. "You slept with this guy last week. How was it?"

"How was it?" Blair repeated, somewhat disbelieving.

"Yeah," Elise shrugged, apparently over her shock now. "Was it good?"

"It was ..." Blair tried to pick through the words he'd used to describe it to himself over the last week. "Amazing. He was amazing."

"Uh huh. And um... was it what you thought? What you wanted?"

Blair's gaze dropped to the table as his mind drifted back to that morning and the incredible feeling of ... freedom he'd felt in Jim's arms. Somehow those few precious moments had given him back his thirst for his work. One passion had led him back to another. His hunger had returned. "More than that. A lot more."

"Has he called you? You seeing him again?"

Blair looked away, unable to answer. Why, why hadn't he asked for that? Because Jim's aspect seemed to forbid such a question? Was that it? Or had he been waiting for Blair to ask?

Damnit!

"Blair?" Elise's soft voice drifted to him, "You haven't gone and fallen for him, have you?"

His gaze snapped back to her, "Don't be silly! It was just a one night stand thing. God, it may have been my first time with a guy but I have been around a little. I know better than to fall in love at the drop of a hat. Come on, Elise, if you're going to pry, at least be clever about it."

Her gaze remained steady, as though she didn't believe a word of what he'd just said - but she didn't remark on it. Instead, she said, "So you're not still seeing him?"

"No. Like I said, he was only looking for a one nighter, you know?"

"And what were you looking for?" Blair rolled his eyes and she held up her hands, "Okay, okay, I get it." She glanced down at her sandwich with distaste before wrapping it up again. She took another mouthful of coke then, her voice mild, she asked, "So, you lose your cherry?"

"What?" Blair nearly leapt off the seat, laughter bubbling up inside him nonetheless.

Elise only shrugged. "Well, you can't blame a girl for asking. I'm just curious, you know? I don't know any gay guys well enough to go into intimate details. You just hear so many stories about how sex between two guys is better than anything else and ..."

"What stories?" Blair was confused now and played along with it, hoping to keep her questions away from more intimate details.

"You know, blow jobs, anal sex and all that. Like I said, I'm just curious. It's the scientist in me." She said this with such a disarming grin, Blair couldn't help but grin back at her, relenting a little. She saw that and nodded, "So? What did you do?"

I sucked him off and then I fucked him. And the next morning we held each other and it was so beautiful and the feel of his cock in my mouth was ...

The words sat on the tip of his tongue and the truth was, he would have uttered them if he'd thought for one minute that it might put her off - or that in doing so, he would have ruined something of the special intimacy surrounding those acts. But he did know her - certainly well enough to know that her curiosity knew no bounds and that, regardless of what he said, she would want more and more details.

So instead, he chose a different tangent, one he could live with for the moment. "He didn't fuck me, if that's what your getting at."

"Oh? Why not?"

Blair laughed in disbelief, "We didn't get around to it, okay? Come on, Elise, give me a break. Do I ask you details of your sex life?"

"I'd tell you if you asked."

"Which is exactly why I don't ask. Please, leave it alone?

"Okay," she shrugged, "And I won't tell, either, in case you were wondering. I have no desire to be the bearer of such bad tidings to the female population of this fine establishment. Too many broken hearts in one day is bad for our rep."

"Thanks," Blair replied dryly.

"Unless ... Was this a one-off for you too?"

"I dunno. Maybe." Maybe. Unless I can find Jim again somehow. The idea of just going out and picking up another guy seemed to cheapen what he'd already had.

"So, it wasn't that good?"

"No," Blair sighed, getting to his feet. He pulled his pack over his shoulder and waited for her to stand as well. "That's the problem. It was that good."

"Oh. I'm sorry, Blair."

"Yeah," he breathed, taking the comfort she offered. "So am I, Elise, so am I."

Long shadows pulled across the loft floor, drawing sharp patterns Jim was all too familiar with. He sat on the end of the couch, elbow on the arm, chin in his hand, his gaze drifting from the room out into the city sky.

It was cold again tonight, but he'd left the balcony doors open, the air more preferable for some reason, to that which stifled him here.

It was quiet. More quiet than it normally was but it was enough. Enough for him to think in, to remember. To forget.

A broken promise. Said simply like that, it didn't seem so terrible, did it? A promise given under pressure, when it hadn't seemed possible that he might want to break it. Still, whatever the conditions, he'd broken it anyway without hardly even thinking about it. He'd certainly not gone out that night looking to get laid.

And promise or not, that hadn't stopped him. What was the point of making promises if they were that easy to break? Or was it that people made promises because they were so hard to keep?

He'd paid for it. Every day. Hardly a thought went by without some guilt attached to it.

At least his senses had let him alone, though. This time.

Just how, exactly, had he allowed it to get this bad? The last week had been clear of the terrifying sensory spikes he'd suffered for the last year - but there was no chance they might have gone completely. Over the last few months, the regularity had increased and sometimes, the severity as well. They still lasted for only a few moments at a time - and so the number of people who had noticed anything was small. Still. But then, how many people knew the signs surrounding a man slowly sinking into insanity? Wasn't it only after he'd mown down a room full of strangers that people said, hey, he was always a little strange.

Wise after the fact. The story of his life. Always after the fact.

Why had his sanity decided to betray him? Sure, he'd had a traumatic time in Peru - but he'd had debriefing and some counseling - was that any reason for his brain to turn sour on him?

How much time did he have left? Months? Weeks?

Days?

Would he know? Would he be aware of it when his hallucinations finally took over, when the input was so enormous he ran and hid from it inside, where it was safe?

He wasn't afraid to admit he was scared. The fear clawed at him night and day, eating away at his confidence, his concentration, his belief in some kind of future.

It was the not knowing that was the worst. Not knowing and not understanding what was happening to him. He'd long since given up on a cure. Understanding might not fix anything, but it would make his last months as a sane man a little easier to bear.

It was too late now.

Wise after the fact. Always after the fact.

Act first, regret later.

A soft voice echoed through the empty loft, murmurs of something he'd never known existed. But it couldn't exist, not really, not for him - even though, for a few hours, he'd pretended it could, that he'd held it in his arms and wouldn't have to let go later.

Blair.

The name was a breath of air into lungs starved of life. On his lips so many times over the last week, in his dreams, his waking moments.

And if he'd never let it get this bad, he would never have gone out that night, never have met the man, never have seen, for a few hours, the one thing he could never have.

With his marking all up to date, the paper long since sent in, and no desire to go idly dating, Blair had no reason to play hooky at the bar again. Instead, he went because he wanted to play pool. He needed to. Needed something that might take his mind off his own stupidity.

Of course, telling Elise all about Jim that day hadn't helped. Instead, it had only brought it all back so much more forcefully. By the time he got home, he'd been half-hard for an hour or more, by the simple expedient of trying not to think about the feel of Jim's body against his. When he'd climbed into the shower, he'd refused to give in, turning the water cold rather than give in to what his cock wanted. The last thing he needed right now was to obsess about a guy he'd never see again. He just had too much else on his plate these days.

Finding a sentinel to study being a major one.

But still, even as he dressed in his favourite blue shirt, even as he chose the right jeans to go with them, chunky brown boots and silver earrings - even as he combed his hair into submission, he couldn't quite make himself believe that there was a slim, if outside possibility that Jim might walk through those doors once again.

As if defying logic, he pulled his hair back and tied it up. He'd rather have left it down, but he couldn't play like that and somebody would remark on it. They already thought he was queer simply because it was long. Not that they were bothered by that. His supposed queerness ranked alongside Barnie's old boxing days and Deano's stories of long-haul trucking. Just a part of the furniture.

Funny though, that they'd made that assumption about him all that time without it ever being true - and now that it was, he wanted to prove it wasn't.

Well, okay, he wasn't queer as such. Bi, certainly but not queer. Not the way they thought at least.

God damm it! Why was he avoiding the place? He could have gone down there twice since that night with Jim - and now that he'd made the decision to go, he was standing here, fiddling with his hair instead. This wasn't a date! This wasn't even going to lead him to Jim - so what the fuck difference did it make what he looked like! This was his local - and he wanted a beer and a game of pool. Nothing else!

Okay, he wasn't so stupid he couldn't laugh at himself - but still, it took some determination to grab his coat and walk down to the street.

Had Jim been thinking about him? Did Jim have the same kind of memories of him? Would Jim look back on that night with the same sense of tenderness that Blair did? Or, was he, the virgin, taking all this to be something so much more than it was?

But it had been special - and the look in Jim's eyes told him so.

No, he couldn't afford to obsess - but it seemed way too late to stop it. He turned the corner and automatically scanned the cars parked outside - not that it would do him any good. He had no idea what kind of car Jim drove.

Yeah, he was being a complete idiot.

A little beyond laughing at himself now, he turned and pushed the door open. He gave himself the moment he needed to scan the crowd, to make sure Jim wasn't there - then he forced himself to relax. At the bar he was greeted by his friends, handed a beer and challenged to a game, just like every other night over the last year. But he racked the balls up with a growing sense of unease, as though the fifty or so people in the place knew he'd come here hoping to see one man in particular, hoping to take him home and hoping to go to bed with him again.

He played badly. Deano didn't comment however. Not until he'd lost twenty bucks. Then the big guy shook his head, bought him a beer and suggested he might want to just practice for a while. Blair slid his cue along the table as the other man walked off, feeling more than an idiot now. But Deano was a good guy, refusing to take advantage of Blair when he was obviously off his game - so Blair swallowed his beer and briefly considered spending the night getting drunk - but that was so much the behavior of a man in love, that he couldn't quite bring himself to make that decision so he just stood there, by the pool table, hoping somebody else would ask for a game and as a result, he was in full view of the door when it opened and Jim walked in.

For one, tiny moment, Blair thought he was imaging things, wishing so hard that he'd made his eyes see something that wasn't there. But no. The tall cop had gone to the bar, exchanged a few words with Deano and Barnie and was then walking towards the pool table, an icy bottle forgotten in his hand, warm blue eyes drinking in Blair instead.

Blair's knees felt weak. He reached out and gripped the table for support, waiting until Jim reached him before allowing himself to breathe. The other man wore faded blue jeans that fit snugly without being tight with a shirt that looked teal green in this light, shoulders more than filling out the dark, thigh-length jacket.

"Hi," that low voice stole welcome into him, speaking Blair's own words of a week long of wondering and cursing and hoping and wishing.

"Hi," he managed in reply - just. Then, his hand shaking a little, he took a mouthful from his own bottle, seeing Jim's eyes follow the movement and he knew, just knew as sure as he was sitting there that wishes did come true because there would be another night together - maybe just one more but yes, it would happen, tonight, that every incredible feeling he'd experienced that night last week hadn't been him alone, but both of them, together.

"Ten bucks?" Jim said, amazingly levelly, Blair thought.

"Why not?" he replied, the shaking in his hand fading away. He set the balls up, unable to turn off the amazing sense of connection he felt. Though Jim stood behind him, he could almost feel the man's presence. He even felt when Jim moved closer, apparently to help with the rack.

"You look good, Chief. Really good."

The simple words sent a frisson of anticipation though him, like a thunderbolt.

"You smell good, too."

Blair's heart was pounding like a jackhammer, but he finished and picked up his cue without batting an eyelid - at least, none that Jim could see. Then he stepped back, leaning against the wall at the end of the table, folding his arms. With a smile, he said, "Challenger breaks."

Jim looked at him, at where he was standing - and then at the table. A slow, soft flush appeared on his cheeks but still, he nodded. He took a cue down from the wall, left his beer on the wall shelf and walked around the table until he stood with his back to Blair. As he bent over to line up his shot, Blair murmured, "Yeah, you look good, too, Jim."

He heard a loud swallow, saw a slight stiffening of those powerful shoulders - and then Jim took his shot. He straightened up and turned around, his face perfectly composed - but there was something deep and raw and untamed in those pale eyes which spoke directly to something equally raw and deep inside Blair. "One game, Chief. Just one - or I won't be responsible."

Those words shot through Blair like a steel spike, hitting his throat and groin with simultaneous force. "One game," he swallowed, nodding, moving, quickly, to take his shot. One game. Yeah, right. Get the balls in the pockets, get the fuck out of here and go ... go ... fuck.

Inside he was laughing at himself again - nothing could have stopped him now. It seemed insane that a man - that any man - could make him feel like this. The truth was, if he'd met a man like this earlier, he would have been sleeping with men a lot sooner. But this man did make him feel like this and he had no answers as to why, no way of guessing what the chemistry was because never before had anyone made him want something so bad.

Blair played one bad shot after another however - and Jim, well, Jim was about as useless.

Seemed they both had something else on their minds.

"Whose idea was this?" Blair asked after a frustrating half hour. "I'm ruining my reputation, here."

"When all I want to do is ruin it in another way entirely," Jim replied softly, taking his next shot. The reluctant ball dawdled towards the pocket and paused, hovering. Blair was just close enough to it to reach out and nudge it with his finger without anybody in the place seeing. It dropped and he glanced up with his best innocent expression.

Jim was watching him, trying to hide his smile. "Yep, you're definitely no hustler. Um ... back pocket."

"Sorry?"

Jim lifted his head and gave him a flat look.

Blair raised his eyebrows and shifted to his left, "You mean this back pocket?"

Jim growled.

"Or this one?" Blair moved to what he knew was the correct one. He waited until Jim had the shot lined up before he spoke again, "You know, some guys get horribly physical if they think there's cheating going on."

"Oh, they do, I promise you." Jim tapped the white ball and the colour rolled towards Blair. Even though it was going to miss by a mile, it abruptly changed direction and plopped down into the required pocket, seemingly all by itself. "Mmmn, not a bad shot, even if I do say so myself."

"You should play competition, Jim," Blair replied deadpan. "You've got a real talent there. Two more."

"What do I win?" Jim queried without pausing. He aced the next one all on his own - but the last required some gentle ... encouragement.

"I'm sure I can find something at home that will do." As Blair watched the final ball disappear, his guts twisted again, want and fear rising up in him, folding together like a DNA molecule. When Jim's hand appeared before him, he gazed up a little foolishly.

"Shake my hand, Chief - then let's get the hell out of here."

"Right, right." Blair shook his hand, feeling warmth there, a tingling which ran all the way up his arm. He wanted to hold on, but he didn't. Instead, he emptied his beer, took the bottle to the bar and pulled on his coat, saying goodnight. Just like last week.

This time however, he waited around the corner. He stood there, collar pulled up about his neck, leaning against a brick wall, hands thrust into his pockets. He didn't move when he heard the footsteps approach, something like ten minutes later. Then Jim was there, coming to a halt before him. Blair took one look at the hungry eyes gazing down at him and murmured, "Looking for a good time, Mister?"

Jim's jaw clenched a moment, then he nodded, "Move, Chief, before you force me to commit a felony."

Blair moved.

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