TO HAVE AND TO HOLD
 by 
Candy Apple

Rating: MAO for m/m

*********************
       As soon as Jim approached the door of the loft, he knew something wasn't right.  It was a
muffled sound, soft and subtle, but it was one he recognized immediately.  He had only heard
Blair crying on two other occasions during the last three years: once after a particularly horrible
nightmare following his kidnapping by Lash and once late at night in his room after Maya's
departure.  Both of those times, the sound had torn at his heart.  He had felt awkward going to
Blair in those days to offer him comfort.  They were still getting to know each other, and he
wasn't sure how welcome it would be.  Now, having come to think of Blair as his best friend and
the other half of himself, it was unbearable to contemplate listening to that mournful sound and
doing nothing.

      Tossing his keys in the basket by the door, he crossed the room to Blair's closed door in a
few purposeful strides.  He tapped on the door softly, then opened it.  The body curled on the
bed, facing away from the door, tensed a little but failed in its attempt to control the sobs that
were rattling it.

     "Hey there, Chief, it's just me."  Jim rested a hand on one trembling, flannel-clad shoulder
and seated himself on the edge of the bed behind Blair.

      "Thought you ...were on ...a stakeout," he managed, trying to pull himself together.

      "Somebody tipped 'em--blew the whole operation.  You wanna tell me what this is all
about?"  Jim kept up a slight patting motion on Blair's shoulder.

      "I c-can't explain it all now.  Jim?"  He rolled onto his back to face his friend.  By the looks
of his swollen red eyes, he'd been having a pretty good cry for a while.

      "What, pal?"

      "Th-they're not gonna approve m-my d-disser--"  He turned his face away as fresh tears
arrived. 

       "What?  Aw, man...why not?"  Jim watched the miserable man huddled there crying, and
finally utilized his advantage of size and strength to scoop Blair up and pull him against his
chest.  He pushed some hair back that clung to the tear-dampened face and rubbed the shaking
back soothingly.  He was relieved to feel Blair's arms go around him as he buried his face in the
folds of Jim's jacket.  "You don't have to explain it, Blair.  Not now."

       "It's my own fault," he murmured.

      "Aren't those decisions conditional--I mean, don't they usually give you a chance to revise it
or change something?  Do we need to do more work on something?"  The head against his chest
shook slowly.  The tears were subsiding now, and Blair pulled back to look Jim in the eyes.     
"They want me to produce my research subject."

      "Didn't that ever come up before now with the committee?"

      "Sort of,"  Blair responded, smiling a little when Jim produced a handkerchief from his
pocket and blotted the tears away.  It turned into a full chuckle when he put the cloth over Blair's
nose, as if he were expecting him to blow into it.  Blair reached up and took the hanky himself
and blew his nose.

      "You can keep that one," Jim replied as he waved away Blair's offer to
return it.

      "They said something about validating my research by naming the subject, and I said
that there were ethical considerations--that I planned  not to use the subject's name in the
dissertation."

      "And what did they say?"

      "Not a whole lot right then--but maybe now that they've seen the research...I don't know.  I
told them today that I wasn't going to reveal the subject's name, and they started challenging me
right away that I would have to produce something to corroborate my work, at least to them, so
that the university would be covered in case my work was challenged--so they could show
documentation, to maintain their credibility."  

     "But you don't trust these guys enough to do that, huh?"

     "With just any research subject? Sure.  With you?  No way, man.  I mean, I can't be sure
one of them wouldn't leak the information.  I guess I never thought about what the feds could do
with somebody like you if they got a hold of you along with scientific documentation of what
you could do.  But after all the lousy stuff I've seen go down in the last couple years...  I guess I
should've known after Brackett, but I sort of stuck my head in the sand."

      "We should have planned this better."  Jim shook his head.  "This is as much my fault as it is
yours.  Maybe more.  I agreed to be your  guinea pig and then put a gag on you--because I
already knew my name couldn't come into it.  I just...I was desperate when I ran into you...and
you seemed to think it could be anonymous back then.  Now you're stuck."

      "Maybe neither one of us cared enough about the consequences for the other until now to
think about it.  We did kinda start out using each other."  Blair was quiet a moment, wishing he
could snuggle back into the warmth of Jim's embrace while he explained the rest of it.  "That's
not all of it."

      "What's the rest?"  Jim's face was a mask of surprise and concern.

      "I'm going to lose my fellowship.  For unethical conduct, not to mention failure to
complete my dissertation within the time frame established."

      "Dammit, Sandburg, you're the most ethical person I know.  This is a crock."      

      "Tell them that," Blair responded softly, wiping away a couple of new tears.

      "I will," Jim stated firmly, clasping Blair's forearm in one large hand.

      "Yeah, right.  I'll just introduce you as my roommate and then you can tell them what a
great guy I am.  My primary advisor told me that if I didn't produce proof, he would have to
assume that I had presented a fraudulent dissertation.  So I told him he was right."

      "You did what?!"  Jim snatched his hand away, suddenly thinking Blair had somehow
intentionally committed professional suicide.

      "I admitted that I had contrived the whole thing based on my research on ancient sentinels. 
Jim think about this a minute--if I insisted I really knew an honest-to-God sentinel, how long do
you think it would be before they figured out who it was?  So I told them I faked it.  That my
'sentinel' was some guy I met in a bar one night who seemed to have super-sensitive hearing and
eyesight and I based it on him--that I got the idea for it that night.  This way, even if Brackett
ever tries to tell his tall tale and it falls on receptive ears, my research being supposedly
fraudulent kicks the legs right out from under him."

      "How'd you explain your work with the department if you aren't ID'ing me as your subject?"   

      "I do that on my own time, so I don't really have to explain it.  But I said it was just some
additional research into Criminology I was doing for a possible future project."

      "So you essentially just flushed your whole life down the toilet to protect me."

      "We can't take a risk like that.  I mean, I shoulda thought more about the university
demanding the data.  I knew you could be anonymous in the study, and I guess I thought my
word would be good enough for my advisor.  Apparently it isn't."  Blair sighed and pushed a
bothersome lock of hair off his forehead.

      "So he can just take away your fellowship--just like that?"  Jim watched the other man's
defeated demeanor, not remembering ever seeing Blair look quite that way before.  Sad, nervous,
maybe even disappointed, but never defeated.

      "A committee'll meet...but it's a done deal, Jim."

      "Not if I go with you and put on a little show--"

      "You know better than I do how impossible that is,"  Blair replied, sniffling again and wiping
his nose with the handkerchief.  Silence reigned for a few moments.

      "How about I fix us some dinner, huh?  We'll think of something, Chief."  Jim
patted a nearby  leg.

      "I just...I think I'd like to be alone awhile if that's okay."

      "Sure."  Jim stood up and headed for the door.  "There's a pretty good ball game on tonight. 
Won't be the same without a little sociological commentary from the peanut gallery."

      "Okay.  Maybe."  Blair forced a little smile, and Jim returned it as he slipped out the door,
closing it behind him.     

**********

       Jim watched part of the ball game himself, then went up to bed.  It truly
wasn't the same without Blair, making his snack runs to the kitchen and opining on the players'
killer instincts.

        Snow was falling again.  Nice of them to shatter the guy's whole world a
couple weeks before Christmas, Jim thought bitterly, shaking his head.  Blair had been quiet, and
predominantly sedentary in his room, but he had not slept.  As the clock struck two, Blair was
still awake and his friend lay in the dark upstairs, listening to the sounds of soft crying.  It had
started a few minutes earlier, and Jim honestly tried to respect Blair's request for solitude. 
Finally determining he had found the one sound in the universe he couldn't endure at any
volume, he soon got up, pulled on a robe and made his way down to Blair's room.

      His guide was curled on his side again, a pillow over his face to muffle the sound.

      "You know better than anybody that this won't work," Jim chided softly as he gently eased
the pillow out from under the arm that clutched it.

      "Sorry...I...woke you," came the watery apology.      "I wasn't sleeping, Chief."  Jim sat on the
edge of the bed, and looking at his desolate partner lying there in so much pain, he decided to go
with his impulse.  Carefully turning to stretch out, he spooned himself protectively around the
smaller form.  Blair seemed to tense in surprise for a moment, then relaxed and rested his arm on
top of the one Jim had around his middle.      "I'm scared."   The barest of whispers.

      "I know."

      "I don't have a job, I don't have any money, I don't even have a reputation anymore...  I don't
know what to do..."  The tears fell harder now, and Jim tightened his hold.

      "Don't be afraid, buddy.  You've got a home, three squares a day--anything you need.  You
know that," Jim reassured softly.

      "I can't just...let you...sup--support me," he choked out.

      "You're my partner, Sandburg.  Best one I ever had.  You're not going to have
time to work with me if you go out and find another job.  The department isn't going to pay
you--just figure I'm taking it out in trade."

      "Yeah, right.  Pay me for...getting under your feet...a-and on your nerves."  Sobs continued to
rattle the form in his arms that somehow seemed smaller than usual.

      "Is that what I make you feel like?"  Jim raised up a little and dislodged
his arm so he could pull Blair's hair back from where it obscured his face.  He brushed some of
the tears away with the backs of his fingers.  The complete absence of joy from Blair's usually
cheerful, bright countenance broke his heart, and wiping at the tears gave him an excuse to
lightly caress the pained face.

      "That's...all I do," Blair choked out.  "I talk too much...I'm not a r-real c-cop...  N-now that
you...have everything under control...y-you don't need me...sponging off you...anymore."

      "Listen to me, Sandburg, and you damn well better hear me."  Jim
emphasized his point by giving the trembling body in his arms a little shake.  "You're my partner
now, like it or not.  You've done more outstanding work for the department than half the overfed
chairwarmers on the payroll.  I depend on you for backup, and to pick that first-rate brain of
yours.  Besides, I've kind of gotten used to taking a breathing National Geographic special along
on stakeouts."  Blair chuckled a little at that comment.  "I've been kind of worried you were
going to hit the road right after Christmas--as soon as you got your doctorate."

      "Really?"  There was a glimmer of hope in the strained voice.  Jim smiled into the warm
mop of curls that was tickling the lower half of his face.

      "Really.  So for as long as you want to be here, you've got a home and a job.  So don't be
afraid anymore, buddy.  I'm right here."

      "I worked...so hard for this," he whimpered, burying his face deeper in the pillow.  "Just like
that...it's all...gone."       

       A myriad of images passed through Jim's mind: Blair's all-nighters with his laptop, his
efforts with his students, the stacks of papers all carefully read and thoughtfully graded...he had
knocked himself out for Rainier in return for his education.  And all he wanted to do with his life
was teach and continue learning.

      "You deserved that doctorate--with honors."  Jim wasn't sure if they gave out honors with
Ph.D.'s, but if they did, Blair deserved them.  "Try to relax, Chief.  Let me take care of you for a
change.  Everything's going to be all right," Jim murmured to the curl covered ear closest to him. 

"Sleep now.  Think about something pleasant...there's going to be enough snow out there to build
another anatomically correct snow-woman tomorrow."  Blair snorted a little laugh as he recalled
the look on Jim's face when he saw the snow sculpture Blair had done in the unshoveled portion
of the precinct parking lot after last year's record snowfall.     

      "Jim--are you...um...can you...stay?"     

       "As long as you're not one of those people who
snores like a jackhammer."  It was good to hear and feel Blair laugh.

      "If I did, you'd've evicted me by now."  There were a couple of loud sniffling noises as Blair
produced a kleenex from somewhere under the pillow and wiped at his nose and eyes.

      "You don't get evicted from home, Chief.  Remember that.  Now try to take some deep
breaths and relax."

        "Sounds familiar."  There was a smile in Blair's voice at the role reversal--Jim coaching him
on deep breathing and relaxation.

      "If you're such an expert, show me."  Jim tangled a hand in Blair's hair and
massaged his scalp.  "Let go of it for now, Chief.  Go to sleep.  I promise you things will get
better."

      "How?"  Blair's voice was sounding a bit slurred as he relaxed in Jim's embrace.     

      "We'll get through this together, like everything else."  He moved his hand from Blair's hair
and pulled the smaller body more tightly against himself.

        "I'm glad you're here," Blair murmured.  Within moments, Jim smiled at the deep
respiration of Blair's sleep.

      "I'm glad too, Chief," Jim whispered to his sleeping friend.

*********

      Jim concluded that it was actually nice having Blair around all the time.  Simon had wangled
the continuance of  Blair's observer/consultant status with some doubletalk to the powers that be
about him being an independent researcher who had broken away from Rainier to study police
and criminal procedure.  No one knew he had left the university in disgrace, and Jim hoped to
keep it that way.

      Blair took advantage of his unofficial status with the department to get Christmas Eve
day off.  He busied himself making a traditional Christmas dinner, effectively turning the
kitchen into a sea of dirty dishes and open cookbooks.  Frantic schedules and a heavy caseload at
the precinct were going to preclude all vacation time for Jim but Christmas Day itself.  By the
time he finally made it home, Jim could smell turkey cooking as he got out of the truck.     

      "Merry Christmas, Chief!"  Jim called in cheerily as he entered the loft, carrying a wrapped
package he set under the tree.  "Smells great in here."

      "I hope it turns out okay.  Oh, yeah, Merry Christmas."  Blair smiled at Jim as he finished
arranging a plate of hors d'eourves.  There was already wine and glasses on the coffee table. 
Blair looked a bit ragged, his hair pulled back hastily and a number of assorted stains on his
baggy blue sweater.  The loft, which had seemed drafty that morning, was warm from the work
of the oven and the fire that was just starting to crackle.

       "Wine?  Little--what are those anyway?"  Jim came closer to inspect the plate Blair
finished filling.

      "They're crab puffs.  They don't exactly look like the picture, do they?"  Blair
frowned at the plate as he turned the cookbook in question toward Jim.

        "Well, the shape is a little more...abstract..."  Jim trailed off, and they both started laughing. 

        "Guess as a chef I make a great police observer," Blair quipped.  "Hey, I put the receipts
with the checkbook--"     

        "Dammit, Blair, you don't have to do that.  If I didn't trust you I wouldn't put your name on
the accounts.  I don't want a receipt every time you buy something.  Just enter the check in the
book."  Jim crumpled up the receipts without looking at them and tossed them in the trash.  He
had hoped Blair would feel free to use what he needed, and felt it would be much less
demeaning than handing him an allowance as if he were a child.  He cringed a little inwardly at
having snapped at him so abruptly.  Blair's silence was deafening as he carried the plate of
abstract crab puffs into the living room and seated himself on the couch.

       "I didn't mean to yell at you," Jim added apologetically.

      "It's okay."  He was pouring the wine.

      "What's all that stuff?"  Jim gestured toward four cartons stacked up near the front door.         

      "It's official.  Rainier sent a student assistant over with my walking papers and my stuff."        
  

       "On Christmas?!"

      "Well, they had more time to deal with it now, I guess, with the semester break."

      "That sucks.  They should have at least let you clean out your own office."  Jim took the
glass of wine Blair offered as he settled on the couch near Jim.

      "I wouldn't have liked facing everybody there after...hey, it's over.  Let's just try to enjoy the
holiday a little."

      "To the new year--it's definitely going to be better than this one," Jim declared, holding up
his glass.

      "I'll drink to that."  Blair clinked his glass against Jim's and took a sip, then reached for the
plate.  "Come on, Big Guy.  Can't be any worse than what you ate in the jungle."  Jim had to
laugh at that and took one of the puffs.  They tasted much better than they looked.  He made a
little grunt of approval as he chewed.

        "Thanks for doing all this, man.  This is nice."  Jim leaned back in the
cushions and had another drink of wine.  He smiled when he thought about his Christmas gift for
Blair.  It probably wasn't the most manly thing in the world to buy for him, but Jim had missed
the light, fresh, herbal scents of the somewhat expensive all-natural shampoo, soap, deodorant,
after shave balm and occasionally bath oil that Blair had used prior to losing his own income.  It
had worried Jim for awhile why he noticed how Blair smelled, beyond the usual mental notes he
made for purposes of being able to ID his partner in a crowd.  He had grown accustomed to the
smell of those products in Blair's hair, on his hands--any part of him that came near Jim.  And
just like he had come to like the way Blair looked, the sound of his voice and the warmth of his
presence, he liked the light fresh scents of the expensive bath shop products.

        "Dinner oughtta be ready in a half hour or so."  Blair's comment shook Jim out of his
stupor, and he realized he had been ignoring his friend for several long seconds.  Friend.  Lately,
I don't know...is it normal for me to love him so much?  To think about him when he isn't
around, to find more and more reasons to touch him?  To buy him the kind of gift I'd buy my
lover?  

        "Jim--you okay?"  Blair smiled when Jim jerked back to reality and looked over at him. 
"God, I thought the crab puff poisoned you for a minute there."  A slight laugh.  That beautiful
smile, those perfectly shaped little teeth...

      "Everything's perfect," Jim responded, smiling as he thought how much more was in that
statement than a critique of the food.  "Tonight--it really feels like being home for Christmas."     

      "Thanks, man.  That...means a lot to me."  Blair was still smiling, but visibly moved.              
"Snow's really comin' down out there."  Jim sipped his wine, wishing he could have Blair's head
on his shoulder while they talked and watched the fire. //You're a goner, Ellison.  He's got you
wrapped around one of those graceful little fingers of his.  Shit...just what I need.  To get the
hots for my male roommate.  Isn't it a little late for me to turngay now?  Then there's Sandburg. 
Like he wants an older male lover when he's got a smorgasbord of young female action out there
to choose from.  Not that there's been anybody for a while...//

      "Is everything okay, Jim?"

      "What?  Oh, sure, great.  Just thinking." // Just thinking that this would be the cruelest time
of all to approach you--when you'd feel like I was collecting on my investment now that you're
financially dependent on me...when you're having a hell of a hard time with your self
image...when you trusted me to hold you or share your fears as a friend--not a lover.//  "Are you
okay with..."  Jim nodded toward the four cartons containing Blair's office items.

      "It was pretty hard when they delivered it...my favorite African wood
carving got its head snapped off in the box...it just set me off, I guess.  Kinda like the spark that
gets the fire going."

      "What happened?"

       "I broke four or five more things and then sat on the floor and cried like a baby."  Jim was
surprised by such an open admission.

      "Why didn't you call me, Chief?"  Jim reached over and placed a gentle hand on the side of
Blair's head.      

      "And say what?  The head fell off my African guy?"  Blair smiled a little.  "I picked up the
phone once..."  he confessed, still smiling.

      "I'd have come, lights and sirens, Blair.  If you need me...well, next time, when you pick up
the phone?  Dial.  Hear me?"  The other nodded.  "Feel okay now?"

      "Yeah...it still hurts, Jim.  It's like a...a death, you know?"

      "Come here," Jim said quietly, holding out his arm.  Blair hesitated a moment and then slid
over and nestled against Jim.  The arm came around his shoulders.  "I know it's still tough, Chief. 
Things'll get better.  I promise we'll figure something out.  I bet we can even glue the head on the
wooden guy."  Jim tightened his clasp on Blair momentarily as the other man laughed.

      "Yeah, but I don't know about the vase and the other two statues..." 

     "Destructive little monster, aren't you?  I hope you didn't break any of my stuff while you
were at it."

       "Um, well, now that you mention it..."
 
      "What?"  Jim's question reflected a tone of dread.

      "You didn't notice the lamp you bought last week was missing?"

      "Sandburg, I swear to God, one of these days..."     

      "I think the turkey's done."  Blair pulled out of the embrace and fled to the kitchen.             


    Dinner was a tasty experience, though the turkey got a little dry and one of the side dishes was
completely uncooked since Blair had forgotten to turn on the burner.  These were only marginal
distractions from the relaxed conversation, the festive sounds of Christmas music coming from
the stereo and the colored glow of the lighted tree near the table.

      "Hear from Naomi?"  Jim asked, carved off another slice of turkey.  On cue, Blair passed
him the gravy.

      "Yup.  She called around lunch time.  She's in Aspen with some guy named Romero."             

      "Not George, I hope."  Jim chuckled a little at the mental picture of Naomi dating a famous
horror film director.

      "That's his first name.  He's a real estate big shot."  Blair licked a gob of gravy off his
forefinger, and Jim mentally kicked himself out of his fantasy of being a gravy-coated finger.       

     "Did you tell her--"

      "No.  She sounded really happy.   No point in messing up her holiday.  Screwing yours up is
bad enough, man."  Blair was smiling as he continued chewing.

      "What are you talking about?"  Jim looked up from his plate, stunned.  Blair and his
planning--and just his presence--were all Jim felt were necessary for a perfect holiday.

      "You haven't gone to most of the parties you got invited to because you were babysitting
me."

      "Did it ever cross your mind that maybe I'd rather be here?"

      "No," Blair answered honestly.  Then he smiled.  "You want me to believe that you'd rather
sit at home with me in my perpetual bad mood lately than go out and party?"

      "More or less."  Jim kept moving the vegetables around on his plate nervously.  Back off,
Ellison.  He's getting confused and you've done all but dangle mistletoe over his head.  He
doesn't need this now.

      "That's nice of you to say."  Blair chewed in silence for a few minutes.  Jim refrained from
opening his mouth for fear of putting his foot back in it.  "I made dessert."  Blair's tone lacked its
usual confidence.

      "You really knocked yourself out on this one, Chief.  This was great."

      "You haven't seen the cake."

      "Should I be afraid?"  Jim asked, smiling as Blair carried their plates to the kitchen.            

      "Very," he replied grimly.

      "What time did you start on all this anyway?"

      "Right after you left this morning.  First I went to the library for the cookbooks, and I made
lists for the store out of those and then bought the stuff and came back and got started."

      "You must be running out of gas by now."

      "I think after the cake frosting project, I was too traumatized to notice."  Blair carried over a
platter bearing the most hideously deformed layer cake Jim had ever seen.  There was something
drawn into the white frosting with green food coloring that was either a tree or an obese green
nude with three breasts.

      "My God," was all Jim could manage before he burst into laughter.  Blair set the cake on the
table as he was struck with a similar fit of mirth.

      "Think I should strike cake decorating from my list of job options?"

      "As a service to all of Cascade," Jim replied, still chuckling.

      "The best part is that I had to fix all the mistakes with frosting."  Blair flexed his eyebrows at
that thought as they worked together at clearing away dinner.

        The cake, like the crab puffs, was hard on the eyes, but tasted good.  After cleaning up the
worst of what Jim called the "toxic cesspools" left around the kitchen, they adjourned to the
living room to open gifts.

      "This is a hell of a big box, Chief."  Jim was about to comment that it was almost as big as
Blair as his shorter partner hauled the festive package out from under the tree, but refrained.     

     "Open it!"  Blair prodded, sitting on the floor near the tree, almost erupting with enthusiasm.   
 
      "Heavy too," Jim commented, curiosity piqued.
 
     "You smell it," Blair accused, still smiling.  Jim smiled back guiltily and finished opening
the box he knew contained something leather.  Inside was a leather jacket, the softest finish he'd
ever felt.  He seemed to get lost in the texture of the chocolate brown garment.  "Hey, don't zone
out on me, man."

      "Blair...this is...it's...beautiful...but how--?"

      "I laid it away in August."

      "You never plan anything that far ahead."

      "Yeah, well...I saw it, and I thought  that's what I wanna get'.  So I laid it away.  I just got it
out three weeks ago.  I had to store it at a friend's house because I knew you'd smell it here and
hunt it down like a bloodhound."  Blair stood up and motioned to Jim to do the same.  "Come
on, try it on."  He held the jacket while Jim slipped into it.

      "Perfect," Jim commented, caressing the sleeves.  "This is really beautiful, Chief.  Thank
you."

      "You're welcome.  Only thing is, next time I have to go into a tall man's store, you're going
with me."

      "It's a deal."  Jim laughed as he removed the coat and laid it almost reverently on the couch. 
"Dig in," he directed Blair, pointing at the box under the tree.  "It's nothing like this, but--"            

      "Nah, you're just supporting me," Blair responded as he retrieved the box.

      "That's got nothing to do with Christmas."

      "It's got everything to do with it, Jim."  Blair was sitting on the couch now with the package
in his lap.  "I...I'm not real used to, um, having anything to fall back on."  He fingered the bow on
the package.  "I was in college at 16...Naomi traveled lighter alone.  And she did travel," Blair
said with a fond smile.  "Before that--well, she went on a lot of trips and retreats."   Jim sat on
the opposite end of the couch and watched Blair fidgeting with the red bow.  He was cradling the
package like it was the most precious thing on earth.  "She wasn't always as...together as she is
now.  I mean, she's always been great--don't get me wrong--but she...sometimes she would be
into...altered consciousness.  It would be kind of like living alone."

      "Drugs."  Jim watched for the slight nod.  "So she wasn't really there for you if you needed
her."

      "She usually was.  It's just that sometimes...I got stuck somewhere while she traveled or I had
to rely on myself--get away for awhile.  She never stayed with one guy very long and sometimes
they weren't real fond of kids."

      "Where did you go?"

      "Friends, relatives--anybody that'd put up with me," he concluded with a smile.  "I guess I'm
trying to say that I never had a place to go where I was always...well, wanted."  Blair was
blushing almost the color of the ribbon.  "'Til now.  That's a pretty amazing present, man."

      "That's what home's supposed to be, Chief."

      "Hey, can I open this now?"


      "Go for it."  Jim watched with amusement as his friend tore anxiously into the package. 
Inside the box was a large tan wicker basket loaded with all of Blair's usual bath and shaving
products.

      "How did you know what to buy?"  Blair was examining each bottle, apparently stupefied at
Jim's choice of gifts.

      "I've shared a bathroom with you for almost three years now--cops are known for their keen
powers of observation.  And I could tell you were out of them."

      "What?"  Blair was shocked now.  "Do I smell bad?"  It was an honest and valid question, 
considering Jim's comment and his heightened senses.  He still couldn't resist laughing.

      "No."  He regained his composure.  "But you like this stuff, and I know you haven't bought
any since you ran out of money from Rainier."

      "It's expensive.  I just so don't feel right spending $10 out of your checking account for a
bottle of shampoo."

      "Some things are worth it," Jim responded, more to himself than Blair.  Startled he'd actually
said it, he hastened to add, "I mean if it's something you enjoy--you shouldn't have to give
everything up.  I don't want you to feel like you're living at the local soup kitchen.  That's why I
put you on the accounts--so you could use what you needed."

      "I really appreciate this.  I mean...it's really...thoughtful."

       "When that's gone, I want you to replace it--got that?  I'm sick of smelling that cheap
artificial crap all day," Jim stated gruffly.  He didn't know how else to compliment the way Blair
usually smelled without really embarrassing himself.

      "You like the way these smell on me?"  Blair asked, a ghost of a smile on his face.

      "If you make a smart remark about this, Sandburg--"

       "No, no...I think it's nice.  Thanks, Jim."

      "You're welcome."  And now I just have to learn to deal with what I'm feeling until your life
is back on track...until you're back on your own two feet again and can accept or reject me
without any other complicating dynamics...

******
      Sexual deprivation does strange things to a man's mind, Jim concluded.  Being disturbed at 6
in the morning on a Saturday in January with an inspiration about Blair writing a book was one
such thing.  He pulled on a robe against the chill in the loft and hurried downstairs.  As he
approached Blair's door, he could hear the steady breathing of deep sleep.  This idea is just too
damn good to wait.  He pushed open the door and shook the sleeping form.

      "Hey, come on, Chief--wake up."  The blanketed bundle whined and mumbled something,
not fully coherent.  "Sandburg!"  Another shake.

      "The fucking loft better be on fire."  Blair was unusually cranky as he rolled toward the spot
where Jim stood near the bed.

      "This is more important."  Uninvited, Jim sat on the edge of the bed, causing Blair to shift
over.  With the sheet draped over one shoulder and the other one bare, hair towseled, Blair was a
vision...but that's not what you're here for, Ellison--at least not yet...

      "Sorry, man.  I was really sleeping.  What's up?"

      "You should write a book."

      "You woke me up at--" he stretched to see the clock, "six in the morning on Saturday to say
that?" 

     "Think about it, Chief.  You've studied all these different cultures, traveled all over the
map--just because you're not officially hooked up with Rainier doesn't mean that suddenly
doesn't have any value."

      "'Confessions of a Defrocked Doctoral Student'.  Yeah, I can smell the royalties now."     
"Blair, you have a real art for storytelling.  Use it."

      "You think so?"  Blair shivered a little and pulled the blanket more tightly around those
beautiful bare shoulders...God, Ellison, get a grip.  "I always did think I'd like to write a kids'
book--maybe a Social Studies textbook that wouldn't put them to sleep..."  The nimble brain was
already at work. 

     "So what's stopping you?  You've got the time, and the background."

      "I guess it's that whole thing with the university."  Blair slumped against the headboard.  "It's
gonna come up."

      "You've got your Master's--just use that and don't mention the rest of it."

      "I do have a lot of notes, travel journals--and the research can't be too tricky..."

      "Think on it, Chief."  Jim stood up and stretched.  "Breakfast?"

      "How about omelets?"  Blair was crawling out of bed and pulling on his robe.  Omelets were
a joint project. 

********

     Jim alternately blessed and cursed the book idea.  Blair was like a specter that wafted in and
out of his presence.  He was either frantically searching through reams of notes--and taking still
more notes--or he was hunched over his computer, typing laboriously.  His time at the station
had dwindled in recent days, and Jim was sorely missing the companionship at work.  

     The positive side of the project was the sparkle that was back in Blair's eyes again.  He was
energized and excited by this task, and he was challenged into using that phenomenal brain of
his again.  His passion for his field of expertise was sated as he invented ways to educate and
inform middle-school-aged children about cultures of the world. 

      Jim fervently wished he'd snapped a photo of Blair's expression when he'd offered Blair his
services to proofread the drafts as they came out.  While he couldn't critique Blair's work
technically, he found he had a sharp eye for typos.  Since Blair's departure from Rainier had been
under such strained circumstances, he had lost touch with most if his university buddies who
would have volunteered for the ugly task of squinting at the pages in search of errors.

     For the daytime hours he was missing with Blair at the station, he made up in the evening. 
Blair almost always took a break for dinner, which they ate together at the increasingly small
space on the table not allocated for THE BOOK.  Jim preferred, for this one time in his
well-ordered life, to have Blair's unsightly clutter in the middle of the loft as long as it
guaranteed his presence there instead of closeted in his room.  He even turned up his hearing to
keep the TV volume down when Blair was working. 

     Winter turned to spring and spring blossomed into summer as work progressed.  An
educational publisher finally responded positively to Blair's inquiry in July, and the flurry of
revisions and editing consumed the rest of the summer.  

     By October, Blair Sandburg was the author of Many People, One World.  The publisher was
already talking to him about possible projects for other age levels, including high school and
college texts and study guides.  In spite of all that success, Blair seemed happy when time off
between projects allowed him to go back to tagging along with Jim. 

     "It's here!!"  Blair burst through the door of the loft carrying a good sized package and
dropped it on the couch, sitting next to it.  Jim joined him for the unveiling of the first bound
copies of the textbook.  It was a chilly October Saturday, set aside for some much-needed rest
and a few hours of sports on TV.  This event truly made the afternoon special.

     "Open it," Jim prodded as he watched Blair slicing almost homicidally at the tape with his
Swiss army knife.  He dispensed with the styrofoam popcorn by throwing handfuls of it on the
floor.  Even this act of wanton messiness didn't rile Jim.  The Blair that had been broken-hearted
and broken-spirited when everything had crashed around his ears before Christmas was gone,
and the old Blair was back both barrels.  That was worth anything.

     He pulled out the top book and handed it to Jim, taking out the second copy for himself.  The
third copy would be mailed to Naomi.  It was a soft cover book, featuring a colorful drawing
done by a child of a chain of people holding hands around a globe.

     "It's real--it's finally real," Blair commented softly, running his hand over the cover.

     "Congratulations, Chief."  Jim was smiling as he opened the cover and started flipping
through pages.  He stopped dead in his tracks on the dedication page.  It read:

            "For Jim--who taught me what home means."

     "None of this would have happened without you," Blair said quietly, as Jim had fallen
completely silent and the twitching in his jaw betrayed a hard fought battle with his emotions. 
"You took care of me when everything fell apart--that night...you told me not to be afraid of
anything, and that you were here..."  Blair riveted his stare at Jim until the other man's moist eyes
met his.  "You held me when I was scared and you made me feel safe--and wanted, and worth
something--and if I hadn't had that, I never could have done this."

     "I  don't know what to say."

     "You don't have to say anything.  You knew what I needed to hear then, and it healed me so
I could move on.  Nobody's ever treated me the way you did."

     "Maybe nobody's ever loved you as much as I do."  Time to go for it, Ellison.  Here it is--that
moment where he's on his own two feet again...  He ventured to touch Blair's cheek softly with
his fingertips.  Surprisingly, a smaller but still assertive hand gripped his wrist--not to push him
away, but rather just to hold on.

     "I've never loved anybody back as much as I love you.  Does that mean the same thing to
both of us, I wonder?"

     "I-I've been...feeling this way for a long time."  Jim found his mouth going dry, his lungs
failing him.  My God, this was just Blair--the person he told everything to...  Just Blair, the love
of his life who held his heart in the palm of one beautiful little hand. 

     "How long?"  The hand was caressing his wrist now.

     "Since before everything blew up at Rainier.  I wanted to say something then, but..."  Jim
cleared his throat and moved his hand to capture Blair's inside if it.  "I never wanted you to feel
obligated to me in any way to say yes, and...I just figured you had enough to cope with."

     "I never thought you would want me this way.  I mean--look at you.  You could have any
woman you wanted."

     "I want you."  Jim leaned forward, sliding his hand around the back of Blair's head into all
those silky chestnut curls and pulled him into a kiss.  At first their lips only met lightly,
tentatively.  Soon, the feeling built, and Jim felt the other's lips part, inviting his tongue to
explore.  When the need for air forced them apart, Jim reached up to trace the slightly swollen
lips with a fingertip.  "Want you so bad," he almost gasped, pouncing on Blair for another kiss. 
Passion was taking over, urging him on to thoroughly possess Blair's mouth, pushing him back
into the cushions, hands roving down his sides, tugging the shirt out of Blair's jeans, skimming
that sweet smooth skin on his sides.

     Suddenly, hands were struggling to insinuate themselves between them, pushing against Jim's
chest.  Blair was no longer participating, he was struggling.  Heartsick, Jim pulled back.  Seeing
the devastated look in his eyes, Blair hastened to explain.

     "I-I've never done this before,"  he blurted nervously.  Lying back against the cushions, hair
fanning out against the fabric, lips reddened from kissing...Jim had never seen anything so
beautiful.  Or so scared.

     "I've never been with a man before either, Chief," he responded gently.

     "I mean I haven't done this before...with anybody."

     "Oh come on, man."  Jim chuckled.  "I've walked in on you myself."

     "Doing what--kissing on the couch?  I was talking about the big step--you know...sex."

     "What are you trying to say here, Blair?"

     "I-I'm trying to say that I'm...a virgin."  Jim could hear Blair's heart thundering in his chest
now, almost smell the fear that reflected in those big blue eyes.  "I've had a lot of different
girlfriends and we've messed around, but I never went all the way before."  Blair seemed almost
apologetic and defensive in his explanation, as if he'd just told Jim he was an axe murderer. 
Cursing his initial reaction and total lack of sensitivity, Jim took a hold of Blair's hand again.  It
was ice cold.  Whether he was scared of the possibility of making love or scared of Jim's
reaction, which had so far not been wonderful, Jim couldn't say.

     "What about all those smug looks and conquest stories?"  Jim kissed the knuckles of the hand
he held.  "What about the infamous Sandburg diaries, for pete's sake?"

     "Guys learn to tell a good story when they're teenagers, Jim.  It's not that hard to falsify your
reputation as a stud."  Blair sighed and straightened up, pulling his hand away as he did. 
"Besides, did you ever try being the last 27-year-old male virgin in the United States?  It kinda
puts you in a position of learning to spin some wil tales, and every now and then you need to,
you know, release a little pent-up tension."

     "So those were what...'stories to jerk-off by'?"  Jim was smiling now, and Blair laughed out
loud.

     "You get the picture."

     "Why did you show them to anyone?"  Jim was becoming more serious again, and Blair's
laughter had died out easily.

     "If I really wanted to end a relationship, I could always pull out my diaries in the name of
honesty.  Do you really think I was stupid enough to show something like that to a woman I
wanted to stay with?"

     "I wondered a little,"  Jim replied, shrugging.

     "Besides, if I did end up having sex with her, and it was a disaster because I didn't know what
I was doing, she'd think there was something wrong with her instead of me--I mean, hey, if I'd
been pleasuring all these women successfully--and pretty damned creatively if I do say so
myself--then why would I not be good with her?"

     "Once again, the Sandburg Logic leaves me speechless," Jim replied, chuckling.

     "There was a part in there about a suspension bridge--man, it was poetry!"  After another
slight shared laugh subsided, Blair became serious again.  "I watched my mother move from one
cheap relationship to the next my whole life.  She'd meet a guy, and if they sorta liked each
other--well, I had a new stepfather--for a week or two.  Sex was kind of like shaking hands for
her when it came to meeting men.  She never had a real love in her life, and I spent my whole
childhood trying to ride the roller coaster of Naomi's affairs.  I made up my mind when I found
the right person, I didn't want it to be just one more hop in the sack.  I wanted it to mean
something special...to last."

     "And that's how you feel about us?"  Jim cupped Blair's chin in his hand and raised Blair's
face until their eyes met. 

     "I love you," Blair responded.  "I mean, I really love you--for real.  And I  wanted to feel
something this intense when I really made love for the first time.  I wanted it to be forever." 
Blair stiffened and pulled back a little.  "I--I'm sorry, man.  I guess I'm bein' kinda pushy here."

     "Blair, I've wanted you, waited for you...for months now.  I sure wouldn't have hung on that
long for a cheap thrill.  If this is right for you too--but are you sure?"

     "You mean since I haven't been with a woman?"  Blair pulled back, sat up straight, and
pushed his hair back out of his face with a slightly shaky hand.  "To me, love isn't about gender. 
That's a useless convention society has set up to order things--simplify it.  Love is two souls
meeting and...and blending until you don't know where one starts and the other ends.  And love
is that connection--and I knew I'd know it when it happened.  As far as the sex part--hell,
anybody can get you off--I can do that by myself.  What turns it into something special is when
you join bodies and souls at the same time--man, that's something sacred."

     "I don't know what to say here, Chief.  I don't recall ever...well, none of the girls I was
with..."

     "You trying to tell me you never deflowered a virgin before, Ellison?"  Blair asked, evil little
grin curving his lips.

     "I don't think so, no."

     "Well, it may not be that great.  I mean, I'm scared to death here and I don't know what the
hell I'm doing, and I probably won't be as good at it--"

     "You're offering the most beautiful gift one human can give another.  And it's one no one's
ever given me.  Don't apologize for that."  Jim stroked a flushed cheek.  "Besides, I've never
done it with a man before either. What makes you think I'll know anything?"

     "Geez, Jim, maybe we oughtta go out and buy a book or something.  We might end up
breaking something vital."  Blair chortled and Jim laughed out loud.  

     "We don't need a book, love, but we sure as hell aren't going to just flop down on the couch
and start knockin' boots.  This is going to be something special."  Blair was the one who laughed
now.

     "Where'd you learn that?"

     "I worked Vice, remember?"  Jim took one of Blair's hands in both of his and kissed it.  "First
things first.  I love you, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you--only you.  I just need a
yes or no if you feel the same way."  Blair smiled and Jim caught a tear that was escaping the
other's eye.

     "I do," he replied softly, looking Jim directly in the eyes.

     "Always and forever, baby."  He leaned forward and kissed Blair's forehead. 

     "Jim?"

     "Yeah?"

     "Um, when we...when we get together...can you...I mean, I don't know...I haven't done this
before and I thought maybe you could kind of...show me what I'm supposed to do," Blair finally
concluded, blushing furiously.

     "I don't know as I qualify as an expert, but I'll do my best."  He caressed Blair's cheek softly. 
"Got any of that bath oil on hand?"  He could feel Blair's heartbeat quicken at the question.  He
nodded his answer to Jim.  "Before we do anything, how would you feel about getting relaxed
and getting a little more comfortable with each other, huh?"  Another nod, an almost
imperceptible gulp.  "Why don't you go to your room, get into your robe, and meet me in the
bathroom in about twenty minutes?"

     "Bath oil's in the cupboard by the window,"  Blair replied, rising and heading for his room,
with one nervous little backward glance and smile toward his soon-to-be lover.

********
                                
     The bathroom was aglow with the soft light of several candles.  The blinds were drawn over
the window blocking out the last vestiges of daylight.  Jim eyed the filled garden tub, glad now
he had made that concession to Caroline to make the loft more to her liking.  Standard tubs were
no place for tall men to make love.  The stereo in the living room was playing something soft
and romantic.  Jim stood in the middle of all of it, wondering for a moment if Blair had gotten a
case of cold feet. 

     He fidgeted with the lapel of his robe, a garment he rarely wore.  The dark blue terry cloth
was still as fluffy as the day he'd bought it.  He'd stashed a tube of lubricant under the pillows
upstairs, and put the wet towlettes that were usually in the kitchen in the drawer of the
nightstand.  Jim realized he honestly didn't know the first thing about making love to a virgin,
and even less about making love to a man.  It did occur to him that they'd need some slippery
stuff, and he figured it might feel good to Blair to get cleaned up afterward...if it got that far. 
He'd even tossed a tube of antiseptic cream in the nightstand just in case he did any damage. 
The thought gave him a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach.  If he ever took Blair that way, it
would only be slow and gentle.  The concept of leaving Blair sore or bleeding from something
he did to him in bed was something Jim didn't want to think about.

     "Sorry I took so long,"  Blair's voice startled him from the door.  "My,  um, my underwear got
stuck in my zipper and I've been writhing around on my back for the last ten minutes tryin' to get
loose."  Blair's honest explanation, plus the familiar sight of him in his sloppy plaid robe that
hung almost to the floor made Jim relax and laugh a little.  "Everything-- it's beautiful, man."  He
eyed the tub that was partially filled, caught the scent of the bath oil in the warm bathroom.

     "Not as beautiful as you, love."  Jim held out his arms, and with a smile and a couple eager
steps, Blair filled them.  His cheek rubbed against Jim's bare chest, and Jim heard a little groan
of pleasure from the smaller man.  "Anything that doesn't feel right, you just say so-- and it stops
right there, Chief."  Jim kissed the top of his lover's head and stepped back.  He took off his robe,
and with an inviting smile toward Blair, lowered himself into the water.  Blair chewed his lower
lip slightly as he untied his robe and finally dispensed with it.  Jim had caught fleeting glimpses
of Blair nude before, but he'd never really been able to look at him.  

     He took the hands Blair held out now to steady him as he stepped into the tub, kneeling
between Jim's legs.  He let himself be positioned so he sat with his back against the larger man's
chest.  A soaked sponge was squeezed over his head, wetting the curls there.  

     Jim lathered his hands with Blair's shampoo and began massaging it through the wet strands
that clung to the other's neck and shoulders.  It was getting longer than Blair usually wore it, and
Jim fervently hope no haircuts were in Blair's immediate future.  He had always secretly loved
the silky, soft sway of all those curls, wishing he could leave his hand there longer to luxuriate in
them when he would steal a caress or a friendly pat.  Now it was all his...every beautiful part of
Blair was his and his alone.     

     He reached for the hand-held shower massager and rinsed the lather out of the hair as Blair
leaned back against him, eyes closed.  The small hands were roving on their own now, sliding
back and forth on Jim's flanks as if testing their privilege and their ability to please.  Jim
shivered as one strayed back far enough to brush his growing erection.   

     Had it not been for Blair's complete innocence, he'd have seriously considered taking him
right there in the tub.  He was certainly smaller than Jim, but nicely proportioned, and more than
adequately endowed.  Hair the color of that glorious mop on his head dusted his chest and
stomach and gathered more densely at his groin.  

     When the shampoo was rinsed, the slippery body in his arms shifted so he was lying on top of
Jim, almost pushing them under.  Erections brushed, sending maddening waves through both
men, their mouths fastened together, roughly exploring one another.  Jim's hands slid down to
cup smooth, water-slick buttocks, and he felt Blair's silent groan rumble low in his throat.  I'm
the only one to ever touch him there...the only one to feel his arousal, to taste his passion
unleashed...to smell his special scent when he's about to come...  His hand slipped around
between them, found Blair's hardness and began a slow stroking.  Blair's head snapped back with
a cry of pleasure, exposing the soft, moist skin at his throat to Jim's eager lips, as they trailed
along the collar bones, kissing, licking and sucking while his hand began pumping more in
earnest.  

     Jim was surprised to feel slender but efficient fingers enclose his own arousal as Blair's
forehead dropped to Jim's chest, thrusting in and out of Jim's grip in tempo with the strokes he
was giving his lover.  Water was splashing everywhere, extinguishing a few nearby candles and
soaking the floor.  Jim panted and moaned with his own pleasure, but drew more delight from
letting the sight, sound and smell of Blair fill his senses as the younger man spiraled into his first
shared sexual experience.  He let out one final cry of Jim's name, spurting his completion over
Jim's hand, stomach  and into the water.  Blair's cry, that beautiful head tossed back in the final
moment as he came, was enough to push Jim over the edge.  He came with a wail of pleasure,
finally regaining enough of himself to cuddle Blair close in the cooling water.

     "Think we should move this party to drier ground?"  Jim finally asked.  Blair's delicious
lethargy was not letting him go easily, but he finally stroked a hand across the plane of Jim's
chest, and nodded.

     "I've heard it called  little death'.  I think I'm dead."  Blair smiled against Jim, kissing the
damp flesh under his mouth.

     Blair rallied when they got out of the tub, toweling Jim off as he dried Blair--though they
laughingly admitted they would have been faster each taking care of himself.  Jim took charge of
toweling, combing and drying the damp curls on Blair's head, thoroughly enjoying the smell of
the herbal shampoo and the springy curls sliding between his fingers.

     Donning their robes and blowing out candles, they soon adjourned to the big bed upstairs
where they snuggled under the covers together.

     "You doin' okay, Chief?"  Jim kissed the top of his head.  No one's ever held him while he
drowsed after he came...  No one else ever saw him toss his head back and cry out his
pleasure...only me.

     "It was really amazing, Jim."  He snuggled closer, hooking a leg over Jim's.  "I know it
wasn't...all the way, but...it was beautiful."

     "We've got plenty of time to try everything, baby.  Doesn't all have to happen at once." 

     "Soon, though."  Blair yawned like an old cat against Jim's chest.

     "Nap first," Jim said with an affectionate chuckle.  "I'd kind of like you to be awake for this."

     The nap lasted almost two hours, and was followed by a trip to the kitchen for food.  A
simple meal of left over pizza seemed magical, curled up on the couch under a quilt, feeding
each other a mixture of the food and kisses.  The fire was giving off a pleasant warmth and
lending a soft glow to the otherwise darkened loft.

     "Tomorrow, I think we should go out and shop for rings."  Jim enjoyed sensing Blair's
reaction to his matter-of-fact statement.  Pulse and heart rate quickened, lax muscles tensed...and
the look of love and joy that filled those big blue eyes was worth the world.

     "But somebody might see--"

     "The whole damn world'll see.  That's the idea."

     "But what about the guys at the station?"  Blair's voice was still a bit strained in surprise.

     "They'll just have to get over me and accept that I'm taken."  Jim was grinning, feeling
intoxicated by the sight, sound and smell of Blair tucked safely in his arms.

     "You know what I mean.  It's not accepted real well, even if they can't fire you for it."  Blair
settled a little defeatedly against Jim.

     "I wasn't cut out to live in a closet, Blair.  And this commitment is just as real to me as a legal
marriage.  I'm not going out on a bunch of decoy dates to make a bunch of small-minded idiots
comfortable with my lifestyle.  If I'm wearing a ring, it's a very clear hands-off signal."  He ran
his hand in a soothing rub up and down Blair's back.  "I haven't asked you if you feel
comfortable--"

     "I never dreamed you'd--that we could...I would love to wear your ring, Jim."

     "What did you think I was gonna do--use you on my days off and sweep you under the rug?"

     "I wouldn't have viewed it that way," Blair answered quietly.

     "I know that--just like you keep doing nice things for me even when I never say thank you."

     "You thank me--one way or another."

     "Thank you for being in my life."  He kissed the tip of Blair's nose.

     "Thanks for inviting me," Blair replied, grinning up at Jim.

     "I didn't.  You crashed the party, remember?"  He patted Blair's bottom firmly but gently. 
He didn't expect to hear the aroused little groan his lover emitted.

     "Make love to me?"  The tone of Blair's voice made it sound as if he were asking Jim a favor. 
Jim responded with a deep kiss.  He stood, and before Blair could rise, he slid his arms under
him and lifted Blair up, carrying him toward the stairs.

     When he reached the top of the stairs, Jim laid his precious cargo on the bed.  Odd shadows
were dancing on the walls, the living room fire being the only light.  Though Jim could see
perfectly well, he realized that everything was in shadow for his lover.  He lit a fat white candle
he'd brought upstairs from the bathroom earlier and set it on the dresser.

     To his acute senses, Blair's pulse and heartbeat were thundering.  He didn't question that Blair
wanted this to happen, but he also realized his partner was scared to death at the same time.  He
returned to the bed and lay down beside Blair, pulling him into a  close embrace.  He soon felt
busy fingers working on the tie of his robe, loosening the garment and skimming over the
smooth skin on his chest and shoulders.  A hand brushed over a nipple, and Jim couldn't stifle
the little moan that escaped.  He drowned it in Blair's mouth, his own hands eagerly pushing
Blair's robe off his shoulders and sliding up into the soft mane of curls to hold his head in place
while he probed every crevice of the smaller man's mouth, tasting every bit of flesh his tongue
could reach before he realized Blair was almost gasping for breath.  He released the hostage
mouth and worked his way down the jawline to the throat to the collarbones.

     Blair's hands still made valiant attempts to caress Jim, paying special attention to the
hardening nubs that elicited an electric response each time they were touched.  Jim knew he was
enveloping and overpowering Blair with the onslaught of passion, but he was unable to fathom
stopping as he pushed the last hindrance of his lover's robe aside.  Tossing his own robe to the
floor, he took a moment to look at Blair.  Flushed, breathless, naked and a little afraid, the sight
took Jim's breath away and captured his heart.  Blair was trust incarnate;  a virgin giving the
ultimate gift of himself unreservedly and joyfully...letting Jim into places no one had ever been
before.  Suddenly, it was easy to find the strength to go slow and be gentle.

     "God, you're beautiful,"  Jim murmured as he began slowly kissing his way down Blair's
shoulder.  "Relax, lover.  I'm just going to kiss every inch of you..." he paused to pay homage to a
nipple, nipping and lapping at it with his tongue.  Blair arched upward and moaned, stilling a bit
when Jim's fingers began working the mate with equal vigor.  

     "Oh, God, J-im, oh man...Ahhh."  The last little word was a cry of pleasure, the first of many
as Jim took his time tasting his partner's body.  He nuzzled the wiry hair of Blair's groin, inhaling
the strong aroma of his sweat and arousal.  Blair was almost fully erect, head thrown back, hands
gripping wads of the sheet.  He parted his legs instinctively for the delightful partnership of lips
and tongue that were kissing, licking and nibbling at ever inch of him.  Jim dipped down to run a
maddening tongue over Blair's balls and up the underside of his shaft.  He screamed then, a raw,
primal cry of pleasure as the wayward tongue followed the seam between his balls, lapping its
way to the very edge of his center, Jim's large hands pushing up on his thighs from below, urging
him to expose himself completely.  

     Then the tongue made a tentative dart into the tiny puckered opening.

     "Jim...oh, man...do it...fuck me..."  Blair was sweaty, panting and nearly frantic at the gentle
rimming he was receiving.  Jim raised his head, rested Blair's legs on his shoulders as he stroked
the flanks and managed to catch Blair's gaze from this most intimate of positions.

     "I will never fuck you, Blair.  But I'll make love to you."  With that, he planted a kiss on the
inside of each thigh and gently lowered them to the mattress. Turn on your side, baby," Jim
instructed gently as he reached under the pillow for the lubricant he'd tucked there before their
bath.   He realized there was one discussion they hadn't had, and though the last thing he wanted
to do was talk, it had to be dealt with now.  "Should I use something?"  Jim waited as the
question seemed to register with Blair's foggy brain.

     "You've been tested?"

     "Sure.  Negative.  And I've always used protection."

     "Just you and me from now on, right?"

     "Right."  Jim carefully lifted a little of the soft hair aside and kissed Blair's nape.

     "I don't want anything between us, Jim.  I only want to feel you."

     "I love you."  Jim planted another little kiss in the same spot.  "Get comfortable, lover."  He
carefully tucked a pillow under Blair's head as he lay behind him.  "Draw your knees up a little
more."  Barely a whisper.  "Just my finger.  If you don't like the way anything feels, you just say
stop."  

     Jim cautiously pressed one well-lubricated finger into the opening of Blair's body.  A little
shiver was the only response.  He began carefully moving, rotating and stretching.  Blair grunted
a little and wriggled, but he seemed to be accepting this degree of penetration.  Jim kissed  the
nearest shoulder as he withdrew one finger and returned with two.  Blair seemed a bit more
uncomfortable now.

     "Want me to stop, love?"  Jim whispered gently, stilling the fingers in the tight channel.

     "No," came the strained reply.

     "Relax, baby.  Nothing's going to happen you aren't ready for."  Jim could feel the muscles
relax further, and when he brushed a little nub deep inside of Blair with the tip of his finger, the
other man let out a groan of pleasure.  Kissing the back of Blair's neck, wondering how much
longer he could hold his own painful arousal at bay, Jim withdrew his two fingers and after using
an absurd amount of lubricant, eased three fingers past the tight ring of muscle.  He could hear
and feel Blair's body adjusting, accepting the intrusion, and catching fire when his prostate was
stimulated.  He massaged that magical little spot while reached around to encourage the sagging
erection that was quickly coming back to life.

     "Do it, Jim!  I want you in there!"  Blair growled through clenched teeth, his body trying to
thrust into the hand pumping his cock and back on the impaling fingers at the same time.

     The fingers slowly took their leave.  After adding some of the lubricant to himself, Jim
replaced his fingers with his own straining erection at the edge of Blair's anus.  

     "I love you, my heart," Jim whispered as he pushed the head slowly past the initial resistance,
then, "You're my life, baby."  Another little push as he felt Blair relaxing and accepting more of
him, his breath coming out in ragged gasps.  "You and me forever, lover."  A final push and he
was all the way in, with a little outcry from Blair.  It took Herculean control not to thrust. 
Instead, he waited, gently pumping at Blair's flagging erection, waiting until it was hardening
again and Blair moved against him.  

     "Move, lover.  I want it,"  Blair gasped, thrusting his hips back inside Jim's. 

     At Blair's invitation, the larger man began a slow, gentle rhythm of sliding partway out, then
carefully thrusting back in to the hilt again.  Blair's moans were strained a bit at first, but Jim
could sense in every fiber of his being when his lover started truly enjoying himself.  Blair's hips
joined his rhythm, and their cries blended as they continued the intimate dance of
consummation.  They came almost in unison, with the contractions in Blair's tight passageway
and the hot spurts across Jim's hand being the final catalyst which sent him to his own
completion.

     The intoxicating sound, smell and taste of Blair surrounded Jim like an erotic fog.  It was
with great regret he finally slipped his now-flaccid organ free of his lover's body.  Gathering
Blair's sweaty form into his arms, he turned him until they were chest to chest, arms and legs
entangling of their own volition.

     "You okay, baby?"  He pulled a couple of sweaty strands of Blair's hair away from his eyes. 
Whether his flush was the heat of their lovemaking or a little post-sex bashfulness, Jim wasn't
sure.  He only knew that if it were physically possible to get turned on all over again this soon,
the sight of Blair in this sweaty, ravished and slightly shy state would be enough.

     "It was...I...I love you."  Blair pulled Jim into a fierce hug, wrapping one leg around him as
well, as if he expected Jim would try to escape momentarily.  "Don't ever leave me, huh?"  Blair
tried to lighten his tone, but it was strained with tears.

     "Leave you?  My God, Blair--why on earth--"  Jim enclosed the smaller body completely in
the shelter of his arms, legs and his head, which came to rest atop Blair's.  "Never, never, my
heart."

     "That's really beautiful--that love name,"  Blair whispered.

     "My grandmother always called my grandfather that--'my heart'.  I thought it was kind of odd
when I was a kid.  I'd heard  my love' or  dear' before--the usual stuff couples call each other--but
never that.  So I asked her what it meant, and she said that your heart is the center of your life,
it's necessary for you to live, and if it were to be taken away, you'd die--and that's how she felt
about my grandfather.  He went first, and she died three months later.  My  dad always did think
it was an odd observation when I said she died because her heart had been taken away.  But
that's what you are, lover--my center, my life force--I never want to live without you.  This is it
for me.  Forever."

     "It was wonderful...we were so close--like finding a way to make the connection we have
physical."

     "Did I hurt you?  Be honest."

     "I'm kinda sore--but it was the first time.  And I loved it."  Blair ducked his head even further,
and Jim felt the heat of a deeper blush against his chest.  Jim cuddled him close a moment and
then reached back to grope around the bedside table.  He retrieved a moist towlette from its
container and turned back to Blair.

     "Roll over on your stomach a minute, lover."  

     Blair apprehensively followed the directive, having been comfortable in Jim's arms, and
seeming unsure his body was up to being taken again so soon.  Jim slid down and used two
fingers to carefully  expose the reddened, irritated opening that still felt warm to the touch.  Very
carefully, he wiped away the traces of their lovemaking.  

     "There's a little blood, Chief."  It was only a small spot on the towlette, but it broke Jim's
heart to think he had drawn any.


     "In some cultures, they display the bloody sheet the morning after the wedding night to prove
the bride was a virgin.  Jim--you couldn't have been more gentle.  I'm okay."  Blair looked over
his shoulder and smiled.  The love reflected in his eyes spoke volumes.

     "God, I love you."  Jim leaned down and kissed the little pucker lovingly, then opened the
tube of ointment in his hand and carefully soothed the chafed skin.  Blair moaned luxuriously,
deep in his throat.  The cool cream had to feel good, and the last thing Jim wanted was to have
Blair go to sleep sore from their loving.

     "Better?"  Jim discarded the ointment tube on the table and gathered Blair against him, so the
mop of curls rested on his chest.  Blair smiled again, nestling against Jim, never opening his
eyes.  "Sleep well, Chief."  Jim slid off into the realm of dreams.

********
                                
     After watching Blair sleep for a while in the first rays of morning, Jim smiled as he thought
back on their lovemaking the night before.  I was his first--and now his only.  No one else has
ever seen him naked, sweating, flushed with passion--or seen that precious blush and endearing
shyness after he's been taken...  Maybe the doubts can be laid to rest now...  "The most enjoyable
thing I do in bed with you is sleep!"  "If you had kissed me like that before, maybe we'd still be
married."  Carolyn's words still stung all this time later.  Blair would say they weren't true, just
the weapons of an angry woman who wanted to end her marriage.  And in his heart, Jim knew
that himself.  But it was the first time he really accepted it, having drunk in Blair's
responsiveness and willing sharing of himself like a tonic.  

     Blair was stirring a little, murmuring Jim's name as the veil of sleep was lifting from his eyes. 
In a moment, he was watching Jim watching him, smiling brightly.

     "I think I'm going to love watching you sleep," Jim commented, picking up the hand that had
rested on his chest, kissing it thoroughly, fingers, back and palm, then squeezing it tightly in his
own.

     "Am I that interesting?  Do I drool or anything?"

     "Like we'd notice a little thing like drool after last night," Jim quipped back, chuckling.  Blair
was smiling back, blushing again.  Jim kissed a reddened cheek.  "I meant what I said about the
rings, Blair.   Can't think of a better way to spend Sunday than wandering around jewelry stores
with you."

     "You're assuming I want to get out of bed."  Blair started kissing his way across Jim's chest,
pausing to excite a nipple to hardness with his tongue.  "Man, there are so many things I want to
try!"  Blair raised his head to look at Jim, the expectant expression of the discovering scientist on
his face.  With a laugh, Jim rolled over and pinned the smaller body underneath his, covering the
full lips with his own, delighting in the first kiss of the rest of their lives together.

     "You know, Chief," he said, pulling back, "this is one set of your tests I think I'm going to
like."