Title: Insatiable Interlude: Fury

Author/pseudonym: Caro Dee

Fandom: The Sentinel

Pairing: Jim/

Rating: NC-17

Status: Complete

Archive: Please archive

Feedback: Lovely. Yes.

Series/Sequel: Part of the Insatiable Series. Set during Insatiable I.

Disclaimers: Not mine, belong to Petfly, etc., No profit, yadda yadda

Notes: This is an intense description of male anger and contains a violent fantasy. But no one is actually harmed. This story is part of the Insatiable Series. It is set during Insatiable I. I'd like to thank Bluewolf for her usual excellent beta job and everyone at Beta_Sentinel who participated in the brick wall dilemma. I'd especially like to thank Marion, who asked for Blair's POV and made this a better story.

Summary: Blair endangers himself and Jim is furious.

Warnings: PWP, Fantasized Violence

Insatiable Interlude: Fury
by Caro Dee

I turn the key in the lock and slam the door open. Sling my coat off and throw it at the hook. It misses and slides down to the floor. I don't fucking care.

"Jim, man..." Blair starts behind me, his voice quiet and soothing.

"No! Damn it, Chief!" I turn on him, and he backs up a step, eyes going from apologetic to wary. He can tell I'm this close to just hitting him. "Don't you fucking try to calm me down! Don't you fucking dare!"

"It's over, Jim, and everything's okay. Can't you just let it go?"

I'm gritting my teeth and I can feel the veins on my forehead pulsing. I'm so angry, I can barely talk. Fine tremors are running through me and my hands spasm, clenching and unclenching. He just doesn't get it. He doesn't fucking have a clue.

I need a beer. I need it bad and I need it right *NOW*.

Slamming the refrigerator door open and closed has a nice satisfying feel to it. So I do it again. Then I grab my beer and slam it shut a third time. Twisting the bottle cap off, I sling it like a guided missile into the sink, where it ricochets with gratifying force.

Throwing my head back, I slug down half the bottle. The beer's cool and soothing and for a moment my rage falters. I lower the bottle and stare at Blair with narrowed eyes.

He's hovering at the edge of the kitchen, not coming near me. He meets my gaze, lifts his chin stubbornly, and says with quiet dignity, "I had to do something, Jim. I couldn't let...."

That does it. I turn and fling the half empty beer bottle full force down into the sink, where it shatters, spraying beer and glass all over. I advance on Blair so quickly that he doesn't have time to do more than flinch.

Grabbing his shirt, I pull him in close, shoving my face down into his. I see fear in his eyes, and it feels so fucking good. I'm feeling all-powerful in my rage, huge and unstoppable, looming over Blair, intimidating him. Yeah, you little shit, you better be scared of me. Anything, so long as you don't ever do that again.

"You could have *died*, Blair! Do you hear me, you could have died!" I hiss in frustration. You're mine. You're not allowed to die. You're not allowed to leave me.

"*You* could have died, Jim." Blair's nervous but unrepentant.

I shake him to make him hear me. "I'm a *COP*, for chrissakes! I had a gun, I had a vest, I had fucking cover! What did you have?"

The corner of Blair's mouth twitches. He thinks this is funny. Rafe and H thought it was funny. I heard them joking with him afterwards. *Funny!*

Some desperate nut with automatic weaponry is holding off the cops and suddenly I have a heart attack when I see Blair creeping up behind this guy. Panicked, I lay down cover fire, hoping this guy doesn't hear him, turn around and blow him away. Blair picks up an orange traffic cone, jams it over this guy's head and kicks him in the nuts from behind.

People at the station are going to be talking about this one forever. *Simon* congratulated Sandburg and then told him to never do it again. Way to really discourage him, Simon.

"You had nothing. He had an Uzi, Blair. I could be identifying your body in the morgue right now!" I'm shaking him with each word. "You. Will. Never. Do. This. Again!"

Oh, what's the use? I can see it in his eyes-the nervous pride, the desire to protect me, the stubbornness. I shove him away from me, before I can do something I'll regret. "Fuck you, Sandburg! Fuck you!"

I turn around and storm up the stairs. I stomp around the room and slam my fist against the dresser, the closet door. Satisfying noises, matching my mood.

I deliberately slap at the brick wall as I pass. The tiny, rough edges catch at the skin of my palm, tearing it open. The stinging pain fuels my rage, driving it higher.

The adrenaline racing through my system has raised my blood pressure and I can feel the little mini-heart pulses in every vein of my body. Plus my cock is throbbing like crazy. I feel like an explosion waiting to happen. I need to be nowhere near Blair right now.

I reach down and adjust my hard-on. The touch of my hand feels so good on my aching cock that I sway and lose the rhythm of my stride. Oh, yeah. Oh fucking yeah. I really need to blow off some steam.

I quickly loosen my pants, unzip and pull out my cock. Roughly fisting it to match my mood, I can't keep still. I start pacing again in the small area, my hand moving in double-time to my steps. Oh yeah. *Good... this is good.*

Fury is still pouring out of me, but lust is twisting in there. The combination of the two has me so hyped and ready to burst.

Then I hear the sound of Blair's foot on the first stair up to my bedroom. I freeze. Instantly, my rage turns to ice. My voice is low and hoarse with anger. "Don't you dare take another step, Sandburg. Not one more!"

"Jim...we need to talk about this." Blair sounds so reasonable I want to smash his face in.

"Then it's going to fucking wait! Because I can't talk right now." I start fisting my cock again. It's exciting and dangerous to do it with Blair only fifteen feet away, knowing he could walk right up and catch me. My cock is twitching like crazy. "I'm too fucking furious to talk. I'm going to have
to come down from this first."

"Then we'll talk?"

"Whatever. Leave me the fuck alone, Sandburg." My hips are starting to buck with how close I am.

Sandburg turns and walks off into the kitchen. I hear the sounds of him cleaning the glass out the sink. Some other time I might feel guilty and maybe that's what he's hoping for. Right now all I feel is a savage satisfaction. See how you like picking up the pieces when everything's broken, boy!

I stride up to the closet door and slam the side of my fist against it. Bam! The sound reverberates through my cock. Oh yeah. I slam it again. *Yeah, yeah, good....*

I'm replaying the scene that just happened. Only this time, Sandburg keeps on walking. He hits the top of the stairs and I grab him and slam him down on his knees and shove my cock right in his open, shocked mouth. 'One way to shut you up!'

I'm ramming my cock into his mouth, choking him with the speed and force of my thrusts. I'm so close. I bite down on my other hand, feeling the crushed cells scream and the bursting of blood vessels. The combination of pain and rage and sex is so fucking, fucking intense, I want to scream. I'm flying here.

The helpless fear in Blair's face turns me on so bad. 'You're mine. Get it now, asshole? All fucking mine. You don't get to die. I can do anything... fuck your mouth... fuck your ass... all mine. Oh yeah, take it. Oh, God, take it. *Shit... oh shit... love you... love you, you little fucker!*'

My orgasm just rips right out of me, pain/pleasure so intense I double over, still working my cock, not wanting to lose a single precious second of this, gasping, shaking, spunk spurting all over the floor....

*Oh... yeeeeah...*

I pull myself up. I'm totally wiped, endorphins singing all through me. Drowsily, I move over to the nightstand and get the tissues. I clean myself off and then slowly bend down to clean up the floor. I manage to zip myself up. Then I'm crawling on the bed and I'm out like a light.

When I wake up, my body feels fantastic, all loose and relaxed. I can remember the anger and Blair still needs to understand he can't endanger himself like that. But overpowering that is the memory of that incredible orgasm. I'm a little uncomfortable to find that kind of dark lust inside
me, but not too much. It was just a fantasy and I know I would never hurt him.

I'm going to let myself enjoy this for a few more minutes. Then, I'll get up, go downstairs, and have that little chat with Blair.

***

(Blair's POV)

I stand there at the foot of Jim's stairs and listen to him banging around up there. Damn, stupid Alpha Gorilla and his attack display. I'm surprised he's not throwing leaves and twigs down on my head.

Still, I suppose this is better than a week of silent treatment.

Despite the calming mantras I'm busy chanting silently, I feel the need for some fortification. Some soothing tea, perhaps chamomile. I fill the tea kettle at the sink and get it started. Then I start picking up the glass. Jesus, Jim, tantrums are for four-year-olds!

I clean it up the best I can, knowing that Jim will be down later cleaning up after me with his Sentinel vision. Then the kettle whistles and I make the tea. Carrying it into my room, I settle down to prepare for tomorrow's class.

I'm not as pissed as I would have expected. Jim's being a total dickhead about this, but I can see the terror in his eyes. He's just worried about me. Blessed Protector! Blair Sandburg was taking care of himself just fine for almost three decades before we met, Jimbo. Still... it's nice that he
worries.

Although we are going to have to talk about the shaking, man. I'm not into any kind of abusive relationship and our friendship is close enough to practically count as a relationship. Jim needs to know this kind of behavior won't be tolerated.

I'm not worried. In a few hours, Jim will come down those stairs and he'll be a total pussycat. Do I know my Sentinel or do I know my Sentinel?!

The End