Part 2

(Please visit https://www.squidge.org/~candy_a/13-main.htm for warnings, disclaimers and author's notes)

 * * *

 Blair tossed the chicken into the wok with the other vegetables for the stir fry. The last several days at the U. had been hectic enough that he hadn't cooked all week, and Jim's enthusiasm for putting on one of his spaghetti feasts waned after a night or two during a week that had kept him running just as fast. Both men had ended up eating junk food or burgers, and Blair determined that now was the time for them to have something balanced. Now that the initial shock had worn off a bit, he found going back to his routine somewhat comforting.

The man who had committed the murders was also suspected of a similar crime in Seattle a month earlier. That time it had been a sorority house, with seven girls murdered in their sleep during the wee hours of the morning. The M.O. had been similar, except that if it was in fact the same man, he was getting much bolder. Taking on a fraternity house in the middle of the evening when the occupants were awake was far different than murdering sleeping co-eds. However, one element remained static--in both cases, he took a souvenir ...and Blair had been horrified to learn that Danny's arm was missing from the murder scene. There was talk of bringing in FBI experts on serial killers, since the retention of human souvenirs from the crime scenes was a sort of grisly "signature"--indicative of a single killer with a specific pathological profile.

The 911 tape had been analyzed, and it was determined that the caller was a male Caucasian, probably between the ages of 30 and 50. A linguistics expert at the University had placed him as a resident of the Pacific Northwest, most likely. While that left out the victims, who were all 22 or younger, it did little to narrow the field of suspects.

The press were having a field day already, dubbing him the "Campus Killer". Of course their plastering of his composite drawing on every front page in Washington State was helpful. Jim hadn't been thrilled with so much publicity spotlighting the "surviving witness" who had supplied the description and the account of the night's events, but Simon had pointed out that the killer himself already knew about Blair, so as long as his identity wasn't released, he wasn't in any greater danger for the publicity. Jim had countered that confirming with the killer that Blair was coherent and able to ID him was indeed a greater danger to Blair, but he had been quickly out-voted by everyone, including Blair himself. The composite needed to be out and the public would not only have to help find this lunatic, but also be warned. Jim had added the dire comment that all they needed was a bunch of mob violence against every dark-haired, bearded guy with big eyes who lived in the Pacific Northwest.

The phone rang, and cursing a bit at having to leave the meal in a fairly crucial moment, Blair answered it as Jim was in the shower.

"Hello?"

"Blair Sandburg?" a woman's voice asked.

"Yes."

"This is Beverly Cohen, Danny's mother." There was a pause. "I...I'm afraid I've done something terrible."

"Mrs. Cohen, I am so sorry about Danny. He was a great guy, and he was a really dedicated student, and--"

"Mr. Sandburg, I...I was approached by some reporters, and they surrounded my daughter and me when we were coming out of police headquarters. We went there to claim Danny...but they won't release him to us yet."

"Are you both okay? We left through the police garage--my friend is a detective, and I was with him, so we avoided them. Look, if you have to come down to the department again, just call me. I'll be glad to make sure you can go in through a different entrance--"

"I gave him your name."

"Why?" Blair asked, stunned. Even the ominous sizzle from the wok didn't pull his attention away from the phone call.

"It was an accident. I was so nervous, and they were asking us such horrible questions about Danny and the way he died, and this one guy acted like he already knew, but I take total responsibility because I just said the name--I was flustered, and they wouldn't let us through, and my daughter was getting upset--she's only thirteen and she adored Danny. If I started answering a few questions, I noticed that they gave us some room to move--all of them except this one reporter who just wouldn't leave us alone. When he said wasn't it true that Danny was with his special ed tutor, I said, 'Blair isn't a special ed tutor.'"

"So he doesn't have my last name?"

"Then he said, 'Blair Sandburg, that works here at the police department?' And I said, 'That's right,' without even thinking. I never stopped to think what I was saying. I was just so…flustered."

"He already knew I worked at the PD?"

"I had the feeling he already suspected who it was, but I handed it to him. I'm so sorry. I never meant to do that. But he finally got off our backs when I gave him the information."

"It's okay. I don't blame you. Reporters can be pretty intimidating sometimes, especially when they're after a story like this one." Blair recalled the hoards of reporters who circled the department like vultures during the Lash case, and several other major cases that had brought notoriety to Cascade's finest. Blasting through them was never easy, and he usually had the benefit of a very large, very annoyed, very determined, badge-wielding Ellison in front of him to clear a path.

"I thought you should know. I feel just terrible about this. Danny thought the world of you. He talked about you all the time."

"Mrs. Cohen...I did the best I could to help him. I'm so sorry that...that things didn't turn out differently. I tried to help him hide...I didn't know what else to do."

"You did all you could, Blair. I want to thank you for that, and for all the work you did with Danny. He was really a very bright young man, and you were one of the few teachers at the university who really took time to look past his disability to his intelligence."

"That means a lot to me. Thank you. As far as the other situation, it's not your fault. It was an accident. I appreciate the warning."

"Thank you for being so understanding. I know I've brought down all sorts of trouble on you, but--"

"It sounds like he had a pretty good line on who I was, anyway. He'd have gotten confirmation somewhere in another day or two. Do you remember who it was?"

"Todd Reiner, from the Cascade Herald."

"Thanks. Take care of yourself and Tanya, okay?" Blair recalled Danny speaking affectionately of his little sister on many occasions, and knew he had been close to his mother as well. Danny's father had died when the children were young, and Mrs. Cohen had put her all into raising them on her own.

"I will. Goodbye, Blair." The connection broke, and Blair hung up the phone. He turned to see Jim in the bathroom doorway, toweling off his hair with another towel wrapped around his waist.

"Todd Reiner, huh?" Jim said, heading for the stairs.

"You were eavesdropping on my phone call?" Blair asked, snapping at Jim more out of his own fear and frustration than out of any real anger that Jim had heard his conversation.

"I heard you were on the phone and I wondered if everything was all right. It wouldn't be unheard of for you to start getting crank phone calls, especially if the nut finds out who you are--or if the press does." Jim continued up the stairs. Feeling like a complete ass, Blair walked to the foot of the stairs and called up to Jim.

"I'm sorry I snapped at you."

"Not a problem, Chief." Jim finished dressing and bounded down the steps with a resolve that seemed a bit more goal-oriented than just making it to the table.

"Oh, shit!" Blair raced over to the stove and yanked at the wok to take it off the burner before the food welded to the bottom of it. "Aaahh!" Blair yelped and pulled his hand back, having grabbed at the metal handle without benefit of a pot holder.

"Get it under the water, Chief." Jim got a hold of Blair's wrist and pulled him over to the sink, turning the cold water on the rapidly reddening palm. "Keep it under there while I get some ice. I don't think it'll blister." Jim grabbed the ice, wet it under the water and started rubbing it over Blair's palm.

"You didn't smell the stuff burning? Man, that's just like before, when I burned that bagel and--"

"Blair, I smelled it. I thought it was some new...thing you tossed in with the seasoning that was making it stink."

"I don't use any seasoning that smells that bad."

"That's your opinion," Jim replied calmly, smiling inwardly at having gotten Blair's mind momentarily off his sore hand and the fear that would inevitably seize him when he realized that his name was about to become public knowledge, and therefore, known to the murderer whose conviction would rest on Blair's testimony. "I don't think we'll have to amputate after all, Chief," Jim joked, then kicked himself when he thought of the mutilation of Danny's body--the removal of the lower portion of his left arm. Blair's heart did an odd stall and then flip.

"Danny..." was all he said, biting his lip, his chin quivering a bit.

"Dammit, Blair, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say something so fucking stupid." Jim tossed the ice aside and patted Blair's hand dry with the towel. There was a slightly pink strip across the palm, but it didn't appear to be getting worse, and Jim would have been surprised if it had blistered.

"I guess he was already dead when..." Blair tried to shrug, but it was a weak gesture. "Jim, what's going to happen when he comes looking for me?"

"He's going to find me and a loaded gun staring him in the face instead." Jim looked at his smaller roommate, who was doing his best not to lose his composure. "It's okay, Chief. I know you're scared," Jim said gently, and that was all it took to knock out the last of Blair's control. Tears slid out from under lids that drifted shut now.

"Am I...ever gonna be okay?" Blair asked, fear in his voice now not only of the return of the murderer, but for his own grip on his sanity.

"You're okay now, buddy. Just scared, worn out, shaken up." Jim put an arm around Blair, and found himself clutched by two insistent arms around his middle. Giving in easily, he turned the gesture into a full hug, patting Blair's back. "I'm going down to the Herald and have a little heart to heart with Reiner."

"Don't go after him, man. You'll get in all sorts of trouble."

"As much as I'd like to go in there and shove his head through his computer monitor, that wasn't what I had in mind. I figured explaining to him that I'd throw his ass in jail for publishing your name might slow him down--you know, obstruction of justice--and also, to inform him that if anything happened to you, I'd be coming for him."

"Jim, he's only going to plead the First Amendment."

"Not if he wants to keep all his teeth." Jim gave Blair a little squeeze and headed for the phone.

"Who're you calling?"

"Simon. I want full police protection for you."

"I already have that. I live with a cop."

"And I'll be back on duty as soon as I go give Reiner a little attitude adjustment." Jim finished dialing the number for Simon's office. He figured the captain would still be there, given the current situation. Jim was on the task force himself, and he knew that once Blair got his land legs back, Simon would be expecting them to put in twenty hour days along with everyone else until the case was solved.

"Yeah, Simon, it's me. We've got a problem," Jim began.

"Do I want to hear this?"

"No. I didn't, either. Danny Cohen's mother leaked Blair's name to a reporter I'm going to go over there and try to do some damage control before he splashes it all over the headlines tomorrow."

"Why on earth would she do that?"

"I guess it was a mistake, but the damage is done either way. We're going to need to step up surveillance around Sandburg, 24 hours a day. I'll obviously usually be with him, but we need back up."

"Agreed. I'll set it up. Meanwhile, I'll send someone over there right now so you can take off and go deal with this reporter. Who was it, anyway?"

"Todd Reiner," Jim said, the irritation plain in his voice. Reiner wasn't known for his ethics or his spirit of cooperation in dealing with the police.

"Great." Simon let out an exasperated sigh. "Go see what you can do. Meanwhile, we might as well brace ourselves, because I've never known that two-bit headline-monger to do anything for the sake of ethics."

 * * *

 Rafe, who was just on his way home, volunteered to go over and spend some time at the loft while Jim went to talk to Reiner. A black and white would be circling the building as back-up.

"I'll be back in about an hour, Chief," Jim said, grabbing his jacket as Rafe entered the loft.

"Sorry you got stuck babysitting, man," Blair said to the other cop as Jim just smirked and shook his head, leaving his crabby roommate in Rafe's safekeeping.

 * * *

 "Detective Ellison, isn't it?" Todd Reiner stood as soon as Jim approached the beige cubicle in a sea of such structures in the paper's main newsroom. He extended a hand to Jim, who ignored it.

"I understand you were badgering the victims' families outside the Cascade PD. What kind of tabloid ghoul are you, anyway?" Jim demanded.

"I hate to break this to you, Detective, but the sidewalk in front of police headquarters is public property, and I have a First Amendment right to report the facts of this case." The twenty-something man, slightly shorter than Jim and much smaller in frame, seemed puffed up by the chance to actually argue for his First Amendment rights. Jim wondered if his usual beat of typing up the "Area Police Log" inside the second page of the Metro section had given him many opportunities to do that.

"You don't have any rights to endanger the life of a protected witness in a homicide investigation."

"Oh, yeah, that's right. You work with Sandburg. Live with him, too, I understand."

"That's right. Now, you're going to pull his name out of your story unless you want to face criminal charges." Jim ignored the implication in the tone of the other man's words.

"Criminal charges? Oh, come on, Detective. I think you know better than that. You can't arrest me for doing my job."

"No, but I can arrest you for obstruction of justice, since turning this case into a media circus and putting Mr. Sandburg in unnecessary danger from a killer certainly is going to hamper the investigation. Secondly, if anything should happen to him as a result of your publishing his name, I'll have your ass up on murder charges," Jim concluded.

"Oh, get real, Ellison." The younger man shook his head.

"If it's because of your irresponsible tactics, I have no doubt the D.A. could make a case of negligent homicide stick pretty easily. But if anything," Jim moved close enough for his breath to stir a couple of wisps of the man's fly-away sandy hair, "and I mean anything bad happens to Blair Sandburg because of you, there isn't a hole deep enough for you to hide in because I will come for you. Is that clear?"

"You can't just waltz in here and threaten me."

"I don't make threats, Reiner. I make promises. And I keep all my promises."

"Is there a problem here, gentlemen?" A portly older man with receding gray hair joined them.

"This is Art Sheridan, my editor," Reiner explained, relieved to have broken the unnerving and icy stare coming from the angry cop. "Art, this is Detective Ellison. He's upset about the piece I did on Mr. Sandburg."

"That hasn't even hit the stands yet."

"And it isn't going to, because as I've just explained to Mr. Reiner here, you're endangering the life of a protected witness in a multiple homicide. There's precious little journalism more irresponsible than that. Unless it's obtaining your information by harassing the mother and sister of a murder victim."

"Harassing...?" Sheridan looked back briefly at Reiner, then returned his gaze to Ellison. "Look, I read the piece on Sandburg, and I approved it. I stand behind that decision."

"Even if it costs an innocent man his life at the hands of an axe murderer? This is surreal! I can't believe that a paper with a decent reputation is down in the sewer with the tabloids the minute there's a little blood spilled. Six people were murdered and mutilated in that house. One survived by nothing short of a...a miracle. And now you want to point a neon arrow at him so the bastard can come back and finish the job?" Jim's outburst was drawing a few spectators now. "Let me clue you in on something I just told your boy here," he jabbed an angry finger in Reiner's direction. "If you run that story, you better prepare yourselves to face civil and criminal charges. And if anything happens to Blair Sandburg because of this, Reiner won't be the only one facing negligent homicide charges."

"Look, you can rant and rave all you want. It's too late to pull the story, anyway. It'll be on the street in half an hour," Sheridan explained. "I'm not aware of Reiner's methods here, but I do know he was able to quote the mother of one of the victims in ID'ing Sandburg as the last one who was spending time with her son, and most likely, as the witness who survived."

"Do you people ever think about the cost of your actions to the people whose lives you twist up and exploit to get your story?" Jim demanded. "Does it even bother you the kind of danger you've put an innocent man in just to get a headline? Do you care if you cost him his life? Or maybe a couple of good cops their lives in the line of duty trying to protect him?"

"We can't be responsible for the criminal activities of others. We are responsible to our readers to report the news," Sheridan replied.

"How about criminal negligence? I think you're more responsible here than you realize." Jim turned and stormed out toward the exit. There was no point in keeping up an argument with people who put a higher value on getting a big headline than they did on a human life. Furthermore, the story was due to hit the stands momentarily. There wasn't much Jim could do now to protect Blair from that outcome, anyway. He couldn't buy every newspaper in Cascade between now and morning, and even if he did, the story would be out, probably on the TV news shortly thereafter.

The man who returned to the loft felt nothing short of defeated. Must be how Sandburg felt when he couldn't do anything to save Danny. Just like I can't save him from this.

Jim smiled slightly as he approached the loft and heard voices and occasional laughter. Blair and Rafe were watching something on TV, chatting intermittently, and chewing. Jim focused his sense of smell. Ahh, pizza, he thought hungrily, his stomach remembering that dinner had been interrupted, not to mention singed to the bottom of an expensive wok.

"Where's the pizza?" he asked, trying to sound cheerful as he came through the door.

"How does he do that?" Rafe asked, laughing a little.

"Sensitive nose," Jim responded honestly, though the other man couldn't possibly grasp the full meaning behind the statement.

"How'd it go with Reiner?" Blair asked, getting up to serve Jim his pizza. If Rafe thought that was a bit strange, he didn't indicate it. He merely turned his attention back to the sitcom re-run on TV.

"I can get this, Chief," Jim said quietly, opening the lid to the box.

"It's getting cold. I'll stick it in the oven. Rafe didn't have dinner--"

"Or lunch."

"Or lunch," Blair repeated Rafe's interjected comment. "So I ordered it after you left," he explained, putting the box in the oven, since Jim hated how rubbery the pizza got when it was microwaved.

"What happened with the jerk at the Herald?" Rafe asked, turning sideways on the couch to watch the two men in the kitchen.

"The story's already headed for the stands in the late edition. It didn't matter a hell of a lot what I said at that point. They couldn't pull it back. Not that they would have. Those bastards have no concern at all for human life when it comes to a headline." Jim took a quick, jerky, angry gulp out of his beer.

"You did what you could, Jim. It can't be helped." Blair pulled the salad bowl out of the refrigerator that contained the fresh garden salad that was to have preceded the ill-fated stir-fry. "You want salad?" he asked Rafe, who shook his head.

"Too healthy. I'm having a double cheese-pepperoni night."

"Jim?" Blair was already preparing a plate.

"Sure. Looks great."

"You should sue that jerk," Rafe concluded, turning back around and slumping comfortably in the couch. "He's really fucked us up here. Hell, the department should sue that creep."

"I'm going to give Simon a call and see if he wants to pursue this any further. I mean, we can't change what they've printed, but we can decide if we want to officially respond to it."

"Free press, man. That's all they're gonna keep harping on," Blair commented, handing Jim his salad and pulling the pizza back out of the oven as the other man joined Rafe in the living room.

"Eat, Blair," Rafe ordered from the couch.

"What's going on, Chief? Not eating?" Jim asked as Blair brought in a pizza-laden plate and handed it him, returning to his seat on the other couch. Rafe and Jim were on opposite ends of its mate.

"Not right now. I don't feel so great." Blair seemed absorbed with massaging his temple for a moment until he realized the other two were staring at him. "It's nothing serious. Just...jitters, I guess."

"Hey, it's getting late. I'm going to try to catch a good night's sleep before Banks calls me in at some bizarre hour for something else. He's promising we're all on double shifts 'til this is solved. Could be a long haul." Rafe hauled himself up off the couch.

"You don't have to go on my account," Blair spoke up. "I'm not sick or anything."

"No, but I have to go on my account. I'm sleep-deprived." He laughed a little as Jim walked with him to the door. "Thanks for the pizza, Blair."

"You're welcome. Thanks for coming over." Blair smiled a little, though it didn't have its usual glow.

"We'll be in tomorrow, so we'll catch up to you there," Jim said, opening the door while Rafe grabbed his coat and headed into the hall.

"Take it easy," the other man said, smiling and making his way down the hall to the elevator.

Once they were alone again, Blair slid down to stretch out on the couch. Jim locked the front door and went to crouch near his friend.

"Have you eaten anything all day, buddy?"

"Not much. I can't. I've tried, but my stomach just...flips over at the thought of eating."

"You don't feel warm," Jim commented, laying a large, gentle hand on Blair's forehead. "Do you feel sick to your stomach?"

"I would if I ate."

"How about a little milk? You have to start getting something in your system, Chief. I don't want you passing out on me." Jim suddenly realized that he'd begun stroking Blair's hair with the hand that had been checking for fever. He didn't stop the motion. Blair's eyes had drifted shut, and he seemed to be enjoying the soothing feeling of Jim stroking his hair and fussing over him.

"I'll just puke it up, Jim. Please. I don't want to eat."

"Okay. You've been drinking water? You're not getting dehydrated?"

"I'm drinking water. I just can't face food."

"Blair, I meant it when I said that I wouldn't let anything happen to you. It's going to be okay."

"What if he kills again? He's sick, he's arrogant--he's going to go after some other innocent people..."

"That's probably the thing that sucks most about being a cop. You have this constant pressure to solve the crime before there's another one. But all we can do is...is what we can do. Hunt for the son of a bitch."

"How long are they going to keep Danny's body at the morgue? His family wants to bury him, Jim."

"They consider it evidence."

"That's horrible."

"I know."

"The first time he killed was in Seattle, and now here. Don't you think he's probably moved on to another town by now?"

"I would seriously doubt that he'd do that again in Cascade. And if the interval between killings indicates a pattern, we would have at least a couple of weeks before he tries again." Jim sat on the edge of the couch. "The worst part is, I don't know how we'd even go about protecting the next victims. The first murder was late at night, everyone was sleeping, and it was a sorority house. Next time he strikes a fraternity, early evening, with everyone awake and up and around. That's damn near unheard of."

"And the neighbors didn't report anything because that frat house has had some wild parties, and it's mostly other frat houses or student rentals nearby."

"Maybe somebody tossed the crazy bastard out of a fraternity and that's why he's hitting sororities or frat houses." Jim rubbed a hand over his face and sighed. "I'm just damn glad I don't have a kid in a sorority or fraternity right now, or I'd be showing up to pack them up and bring them home."

"Some parents did that at Rainier. Which seems sort of needless, in a way, since it's not too likely lightning would strike twice in the same place."

"You said he was in his thirties, you think."

"Probably. Mid-thirties if I had to guess. Why?"

"I don't know. I'm just grasping for...something here. Anything that'll give me a clue why this guy is doing this. I mean, even if you're a maniac, you have reasons for what you do."

"Logical reasons?" Blair pulled himself up to sit against the arm of the couch. "We're sitting here trying to rationalize this from a sane person's perspective. That he has to have a reason to want to kill college students." Blair hugged himself and shivered. "He's insane, Jim. A madman. I looked right into his eyes, and I've never...I've never seen anything like it. There was...no soul in there."

Jim looked at Blair sitting there shivering, too miserable to eat, and too horrified by what had happened to even find adequate words. Moving forward, he pulled the unresisting body into his arms and held on.

"It'll be okay, Blair. We'll get him."

"He's not going to be satisfied until he gets me. I'm the one that got away," Blair said quietly, holding onto Jim and soaking up the warmth of the embrace. "He won't feel like he finished the job here until I'm dead, too."

"Yeah? Well, he's going to have to get used to unfinished business then. Damn that asshole at the Herald," Jim muttered.

"Jim?"

"Hm?"

"We've got other protection outside, besides just us in here on our own, right?"

"There's a unit outside."

"The way he ripped through that house, Jim...with just two of us here..."

"Hey, wait a minute." Jim pulled back and took a hold of Blair's shoulders. "He isn't going to come here, and he's not going to get his hands on you. I promise."

"What if he comes here and you can't stop him?" Blair blurted out. "You're not superman. Neither am I. If he could take out six people in a frat house--a couple of pretty big jocks and some other healthy, strong young guys--why couldn't he polish us off, too?"

"You're turning him into a god of some sort, Chief. We have to be careful. We have to be alert. The people he murdered were taken by surprise. We aren't."

"But if we're asleep, and he comes--"

"Don't do this to yourself, buddy. We've got cops outside, and there's an armed cop right here. And you know nobody can sneak in past me."

"But he could kill you."

"He could try."

"I'm really, really scared here, Jim. He knows who I am, he knows I gave the cops that composite--and I can't get his face out of my head." Blair's voice shook a little. "God, Jim, I don't want us to die that way."

"We aren't going to die at all."

"You don't know that!" Blair shot back angrily, a couple of tears spilling now. "You don't know that," he repeated more calmly, and let himself be pulled against Jim again.

"I know that we're doing our best, Chief. And I feel safe. And I'm going to keep you safe, too. Trust me, huh?"

Jim pulled back again, looking into the troubled face of...of the man he loved. Unable to resist the tendency any longer, he moved forward and gently pressed his lips against Blair's, lingering there, probing them with his tongue, feeling Blair's body stiffen at first, and then relax as lips parted and his tongue was accepted. Blair's arms came up around him again, and they leaned back into the cushions of the couch, deepening the kiss until Jim finally released Blair's mouth, resting their foreheads together.

"Jim...I..."

"I'm sorry, Blair. This isn't the right time for this."

"That's tough, because it's the right time for me." Blair grabbed onto the collar of Jim's shirt and pulled him down for another kiss, one that possessed far more fire and passion than the first.

"You need me to protect you, to be there for you," Jim said a little breathlessly, looking into Blair's eyes. "Not to turn everything upside down now and--"

"What's the matter, Jim? A minute ago you wanted me--that was no kiss of brotherly love, man." Blair's voice was gentle, despite the challenge in his words. "Now that I want you, you're backing away."

"I feel like I took advantage of you when you were upset and you needed me."

"You want to know something? For the first time since it happened, I spent a few seconds not thinking about the murders. I was thinking about us."

"I figured it would be kind of a distraction, but that doesn't make it right."

"Does it feel right to you? What made you kiss me?"

"It feels...more than right. It's like being...whole..."

"It felt like that for me, too. In case you weren't listening the other night, I said I loved you. And then you said you loved me. And we agreed there was something more to it than just friendship. All of a sudden we tabled the conversation, and while you have this wonderful habit of sleeping with me to keep me relaxed at night, we never brought it up again." Blair ran gentle fingertips over Jim's cheek, their faces still only inches apart. "I'm in love with you. I want to make love with you. I admit I don't exactly know how to do it from experience, but even that feels right--that you're the first."

"You're the first for me, too...the first man."

"Maybe we should try out the kissing part again," Blair suggested, grinning.

"If you insist."

Jim shifted so he was lying on the couch with Blair, trapping the other man between himself and the back of the couch. Their lips met again, this kiss lingering, teasing, finally deepening until they were eagerly devouring one another's mouths, little grunts of pleasure coming as they'd break momentarily for air, then dive back in again. Hands began roaming tentatively over clothed bodies until Blair grasped Jim's shirt and pulled it free of his jeans, then worked his way to the t-shirt below and pulled that up, too, slipping a warm hand up Jim's bare back.

"Raising the stakes, are we, Chief?" Jim teased as he pulled back slightly. He nipped at Blair's kiss-swollen lips.

"Let's go upstairs, huh?" Blair suggested, smiling.

"Beats the couch, doesn't it?" Jim responded, smiling back as he stood up and reached down to pull Blair to his feet.

They made a hasty ascent to the second floor, and when they were standing by the bed, they worked diligently at shedding clothing. When all that remained between them were their boxers, Jim pulled Blair into his arms and kissed him again. It seemed like shedding the final barrier should carry more significance, that somehow, there should be some ceremony to it. Blair's hardening cock was acquainting itself with Jim's thigh as they kissed, and he broke the contact, moving back long enough to hoist Blair off the floor into his arms.

"I love you," he said quietly, kissing Blair's forehead this time, laying him gently on the bed, then climbing in himself, poised on hands and knees on either side of Blair's body. "I want you in me," Blair whispered, the desire turning his eyes dark, bringing a flush to his face. "Do you want me like that?" It was more a breathy tease than a real question, because Jim's whole stature spoke of a desire to claim his mate. Blair's hands slid sensuously over the sculpted muscles of Jim's powerful arms. "I love you, Jim. I want to be yours and I want you to be mine."

"I'm already yours, baby. But if you really become mine, you're only mine. Mine alone. For the rest of our lives."

"That's what I want," Blair said solemnly. "Only if you can say the same--that you'll always stay with me, that there won't ever be anybody but me."

"There's never been anybody but you in my heart. After tonight, there'll never be anybody but you in my life. Just the two of us."

Words ended as Jim lowered himself carefully on top of Blair, pressing him into the bed, claiming his mouth, clutching at handfuls of curls with both hands. He slid his arms around Blair and rolled onto his back, never breaking the kiss as Blair now rested on top of him.

Blair moved away, then leaned back in to kiss and nibble at Jim's neck, blazing a trail of wet little kisses to a nipple. After a moment's pause, he closed his mouth over it and began to suck.

"Oh, God, yeah..." Jim groaned, arching into the hot suction, closing his eyes and letting his senses focus on the incredible sensation of Blair's mouth working the little nub until it was rock hard. Apparently satisfied his work was done there, Blair kissed his way to the second nipple and fastened his mouth to it. Jim had eschewed words now in favor of grunts of pleasure.

Leaving the wet, hard peaks, Blair moved down the smooth skin of Jim's chest to his firm stomach, dipping his tongue into the hollow there.

"Hey." Jim grasped the strong shoulders and pulled Blair up on top of him again, kissing him deeply. "My turn." Jim slid down as he spoke, bringing his mouth in line with Blair's chest. Tasting the silky, springy hair there, he planted a kiss over Blair's heart before licking a taut nipple and then sucking it into his mouth. Blair moaned in pleasure and bucked his hips.

The electric jolt of Blair's hard cock rubbing against Jim's, even through the fabric barriers, was enough to be his undoing. Pulling away from the nipple, he reached down and grasped the waistband of Blair's boxers, pulling them down as Blair cooperated, finally ridding him of the last of his garments. Blair lost little time in returning the favor, and now they were together for the first time, skin on skin, no barriers, cocks sliding together as they kissed and licked and stroked one another, building the heat between them until Jim's hands settled possessively on the globes of Blair's ass.

"Are you sure about this, baby? I don't want to hurt you," Jim said softly, still massaging the sensitive flesh beneath his hands.

"We'll take it slow," Blair said, a bit breathless. "We're both beginners."

"Something kind of awesome about being at the beginning of forever, isn't there?" Jim asked, smiling up at Blair, who returned it. Chestnut curls were all around them, Blair's long hair falling like a silk curtain around their faces, mere inches apart.

"All the times I thought about you...about us...like this...I still can't believe we're here."

"I don't know if I have anything up here."

"What?" Blair frowned a moment. "Oh, right," he said, recognition dawning. "We need something slippery. Hand cream, Vaseline...I think there's some of that in the bathroom."

"Blair...I don't have any rubbers. It's been a while since...I needed any."

"Would you get upset if I asked you a really intimate question?"

"We're lying here with our dicks smashed together and my hands on your ass, Chief. We're about as intimate as it gets. Go for it." Jim smiled and Blair laughed a little at the very accurate statement. The rumbling motion did wicked things to Jim's impatient cock.

"Have you been inside anybody...unprotected...since you got your senses back online?"

"No. There was always the issue of protection, and I was never with a woman long enough..." Jim shrugged.

"Do you want to be inside me...with no barriers? I'm clean, as far as I know. I mean, I haven't really been around all that much in the last year or so, and I was just tested about a month ago."

"Do you trust me that much, sweetheart?" Jim asked, stroking Blair's cheek.

"Call me 'sweetheart' that way again, and you can have anything you want," Blair responded, smiling and leaning in for a long kiss. "And the answer is 'yes'. I want to feel you inside me, and when we make love the other way, I want to be inside you--just us. I want to share that with you." Blair hesitated. "Jim, I started having sex when having sex could kill you. I've never had sex without the specter of HIV. I guess what I'm saying is...I've never had unprotected sex in my life. When I was younger--an undergrad--I might have been more active, but I still wasn't stupid. I didn't have much occasion to worry about it in high school. No dates," Blair said, snorting a little laugh.

"I find that hard to believe."

"I was too short, wore glasses, and I was the class brain. Plus, I was two years younger than everyone else..." Blair shook his head. "I hated high school." A look of sadness passed over the perfect features, and Jim framed his lover's face with both hands.

"Kids can be real jerks sometimes, huh?"

"Sometimes," Blair responded softly.

"You do know how beautiful you are, right? You're not still letting something some half-wit jock said to you stick in your mind?"

"I think 'beautiful' is a little over the top, man. But thanks, anyway." Blair leaned into Jim's hand, then turned to kiss the palm. "I love you for saying that."

"You're beautiful to me, sweetheart. And I see the way people look at you. And look. And then turn around and get another good look," Jim said, smiling and pulling Blair down into a tight embrace.

"They're probably looking at you--all those muscles. You're gorgeous, Jim. If somebody looks at me, I'm just catching your fall out."

"And you accused me of being over the top? 'Gorgeous'?"

"Yeah. Drop dead gorgeous. Your chest alone oughta be illegal."

"I'll just have to take your word for the 'gorgeous' thing here, but trust me, Chief, you're no scrawny, four-eyed runt. You are an exceptionally beautiful man." Jim ran his hand up and down Blair's bare back. "More beautiful than even I thought you'd be."

"I love you," Blair whispered, holding on tightly to Jim.

"I love you, too, baby. And I've been around the dim-witted jocks when they were doing a number on some poor kid with more brains than brawn. I used to see those kids' faces, and I know how much it hurt." Jim sighed. "Makes me feel like a real asshole for not speaking up. I just let it go on. I didn't participate--you know, I just never understood the lure of torturing other kids. But I didn't stick up for them, either."

"You stick up for me all the time."

"I always will, Chief. And those asshole jocks who gave you a hard time back then? I bet not one of them is even half the head-turner that you are now." Jim smiled as he felt the heat radiating off Blair's face where it rested against his shoulder. "You're blushing."

"Thanks." Blair raised up to look Jim in the eyes. "I still think you're biased, but thanks."

"Blair, I'd love you if you had a third eye in the middle of your forehead. It's just a nice bonus for me that you look like you do. I've got no reason to lie to you, Chief. I love you...for the way you love me. Because you're my best friend and my life partner in every way that matters. Not because of the way you look. If you were ugly, I'd still love you--and you'd never be really ugly to me--but I'd still know the difference. Love might make you blind, but it doesn't make you crazy. And you can still love someone and know that they're not physically attractive."

"That's the most beautiful thing anyone ever said to me."

"Why don't you wait here, and I'll go get us a few things from downstairs, huh?"

"Okay. We should have thought of that before."

"We were a little preoccupied downstairs," Jim responded, grinning. He got up and headed for the stairs, stark naked. He looked back to see Blair pulling the comforter over himself. "Cold?"

"No. I just..." Blair trailed off, shrugging.

"If you're cold, cover up." Jim leaned down and kissed the top of Blair's head. "If not, I'd really love to see that beautiful body waiting for me when I come upstairs." Jim paused. "And it is beautiful, Blair."