Title: Sleeper

Author/pseudonym: Caro Dee

Fandom: The Sentinel

Pairing: Jim/Blair

Rating: NC-17

Status: Complete

Archive: WWOMB

Feedback: Lovely. Yes.

E-mail address for feedback: carodee@popullus.net

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

Notes: Post-The Rig. Continues on directly after the end of the episode. Contains Army/Vice Cop crudeness of thought and not a shred of romance anywhere. NC-17 for sex and language. This story was betaed by the SenBeta list, who are always a blast to work with. Written for WoD (who wanted wetsuit peeling) and Bluewolf's birthday. Thanks for all your help over the past year.

Summary: Sandburg's not Jim's type, except when he is.

Warnings: PWP, Episode-related


Sleeper
By Caro Dee

Sandburg just *had* to bring up that "conquering your fear" crap. Who the hell wants to talk about that stuff? A man does what he has to, hopes he doesn't shit in his pants while it's happening, and then he ignores it. Over and out. The End. Done it that way my whole life and it's gotten me through some real rough patches. But Sandburg wants to dwell, to process, to *congratulate* me. Like I should be grateful for the opportunity to swim in total darkness through rough seas, just so I can take on the assholes who want me dead. Yeah. Right.

So I'm giving him a hard time and laying down the law while he scurries behind me, protesting. I'm playing him, grinning just a little -- a nice, successful diversion -- when the wind shifts and I get a noseful of stale sweat and fear. It brings me to a halt, bracing myself as Sandburg bumps into me.

"Whoa, man! Why'd you stop?"

I turn and take a good look at him. He's pale, exhausted and hyper as hell. He almost died tonight too. For a second, I relive that moment when I realized that there's no *time*. I can't get back and Sandburg has to get off *now* and the stupid, brave little shit wants to look for the bomb instead. I take a deep breath and clamp my jaw shut because I'm feeling the helplessness again and it's pissing me off. Kid won't ever stay out of trouble like I tell him to. Saving those lives was *my* job, not his. He's just there to back me up and not to get hurt. Except...

Tonight, he was in the right place and I wasn't. And he did good. He made his choice, kept his head, did what he had to, and managed to live through it. He did better than a lot of soldiers and cops I've known. Sandburg may look like he's all hot air and crackpot theories, but he handles himself like a... well, no, not a pro... but a survivor, and that's what counts.

So Sandburg's got solid, brass ones. But there's still no way I'm suffering through that reek in a small, enclosed space for the length of the helicopter ride back. I grab his arm and start walking back down the ramp towards Simon, pulling my protesting partner behind me.

"Jim, hey, let go! What...?"

I turn and look down at his confused, annoyed face and decide that good tactics call for an explanation here. "I'm tingling," I tell him. Hell, it's even the truth.

"You're... tingling," Sandburg repeats, 'what the fuck?' all over his face.

"Yeah, Chief. Maybe some of that nerve gas spread farther in the water than we thought. Probably not enough to bother most people..."

"... but you're a Sentinel and more sensitive." Incomprehension turns into determination and now Sandburg's pulling me along in his eagerness to get to Simon. "Simon!"

Simon and Brower stop talking and Simon turns to stare at Sandburg. "I'm busy here, Sandburg. What is it?"

"Jim needs to take a shower *right now*!" From the pissed-off look on Simon's face, he's not about to tolerate any civilian nonsense in the middle of an operation. I'm biting my lip to keep from laughing. Sandburg drops his voice and says, urgently, "It's really important, Simon. You know...." He adds the eyebrow waggle. "Important?"

Simon narrows his eyes and glares suspiciously, but he gets the Sentinel reference and that's all he wants to know. "Sure, Sandburg. You go have a nice, hot shower. Take your time. We'll just wait around for you. It's not like we have any actual police business to take care of."

Sandburg's too worried about me to react to Simon's sarcasm, and he's already pulling me away. "Thanks, Simon. We'll be quick. You won't even notice we're gone."

I catch Simon's muttered, "I wish!", deliberately pitched too low for my partner to hear, and I'm trying to keep a straight face as Sandburg grabs a handcuffed crewman being escorted by one of the coast guard and finds out where the showers on this freighter are. Then we're climbing down narrow steps heading for the crew quarters. I notice a faint whiff of cocaine as I pass one cabin. I'll have to remember to mention that to Simon. Blair's still rambling on about 'Sentinel sensitivities'; I ignore him. I've lived with this guy for almost a year and I've heard it all before.

Here we are. Sandburg pushes open the door and walks in. There's a small entry way with a bench and a half dozen battered lockers and then the shower area beyond that.

I look around with distaste. Apparently, a life of crime and a clean ship don't exactly go together. Making a note to sterilize my feet when we get home, I start unzipping the wetsuit. Hearing a sharp inhalation behind me, I stop and look back at Sandburg. "You okay?"

He's edging towards the door, not looking at me. "Yeah. I, uh, think I'll go look for some towels and a change of clothes for you. Be right back."

"Wait." He stops reluctantly, half out the door. "I'd appreciate a little help here, Chief. I'm tired and bruised and this suit is tight."

I watch with interest as he closes his eyes briefly, takes a deep breath, and nods. "No problem, Jim."

Wincing as I ease the wetsuit off my shoulders, I turn my back to Sandburg and wait. After a couple of seconds, he's there pulling on one sleeve as I work my right arm free. Then he walks around to the other side and grabs the left. I turn my head to watch him as he carefully works the sleeve down my bicep and past my elbow. His face is calm and neutral, unlike the staccato heartbeat and fresh scent of sweat overlying the old.

I pull my left arm free. It feels damn good to get out of that thing and I roll my shoulders a little to loosen the kinks in my upper back, amused as Sandburg's breathing gets faster.

I hold my arms out to the side and he carefully pulls the suit down, his fingers skimming against the skin along my sides, and my cock twitches. Yeah, I'm still a little keyed-up from all the action tonight. Judging from Sandburg's jumpiness, I'm not the only one. I help ease the suit down past my hips and he kneels behind me to peel it off my thighs. When Maggie threw me the jumpsuit, she forgot the underwear so I'm going commando here. He's got his head turned aside to keep from staring at my bare ass, focusing on his hands getting the job done. Reaching back with one arm to balance myself on his shoulder, I pull first one foot, then the other free. "Thanks, Chief," I say, giving the tense muscle under my hand a reassuring squeeze before I let go.

His voice is subdued as he clumsily folds the wetsuit in half and drops it on the bench along the wall. "Sure, Jim. I'll go get you those towels now." And he's outta here.

I stare at the door for a moment, tracking the sounds of him trying one door after another along the corridor. Then I shake my head and go start the shower. The shower gel in the econo-size dispenser there is too chemical-smelling for me so I end up rubbing and rinsing vigorously to get as clean as I can.

I've known Sandburg was attracted to me since the beginning. Once my senses came on-line, that's not something I could avoid knowing. Hell, when I first recognized the signs of physical arousal, I was shocked and flattered at how often people were turned on around me, until I noticed it happening for everyone. Human beings spend their lives in a near constant state of horniness. Most of the time, they don't even seem aware of it and it comes and goes like the flickering of a light bulb.

Sandburg isn't my type. Oh, he's a great partner and I really like the little shit, but my tastes run more towards the lean, mean type. I like the feeling that maybe the guy (and sometimes, even the gal) could take me, you know? Adds a nice edge to things. Sandburg is... cute. And, sure, I've checked him out. Nice ass, adequate package, gorgeous mouth. But he's a lover, not a fighter. So, aside from some mild speculation, he doesn't do much for me.

Then something like tonight happens.

It catches me by surprise every damn time. Sandburg's one of the smartest men I've ever met, but sometimes he acts as if he can't find his ass with both hands and an instruction manual. It's like Sandburg's a sleeper and his cover is this brainiac, goofball, new-age geek. A situation develops, he gets activated and he by God *handles* it. Then, just as I'm blinking in amazement and going, "Who *is* this guy? I think I'm in love," he's back undercover, saying or doing something totally half-assed, and I'm left with a wilting erection. It drives me crazy. Heartbreak just waiting to happen. Although I haven't quite figured out yet whether it's Sandburg or me that'll be left hurting.

But tonight I'm feeling like a little risk is good for the soul. I've got that post-battle, adrenaline-pumping, gotta get laid feeling and Sandburg's available. We're on a ship in the middle of the ocean and it'll be hours before everything's organized to transport the perps and the evidence back to shore. It's not like I've got a lot of options here.

My cock's letting me know it's interested, half-hard and throbbing slow and sweet. I grab hold and start stroking, enjoying the feel of blood pouring into it, swelling and stretching until my world pretty much narrows down into what works for my cock works for me.

Speaking of which... Just for grins, I decide to try Sandburg on for size. I imagine a Sandburg that made different life choices, went into the army, saw the world on Uncle Sam's dollar, learned that not all the natives are friendly. I strip away that wild mop of hair and imagine him with a crew cut. Pump up the muscles and melt away some of the pudge. See the sharp, assessing eyes over the easy grin and the confident grip on his gun as he brings it up... Still a little short for my taste, but my cock twitches like crazy and my hand speeds up. We have a winner, folks.

"Guess what? I found some soap that I... Oh Jesus, I'm sorry. Sorry, sorry... I'll just leave the towels and soap out here on the bench..."

Shit! I can't believe I let myself get so distracted I didn't hear him coming. I look down at my hand. Rosie or Sandburg? Like I have to think about that one. "Sandburg! Get back in here!"

"Uh, I just remembered something I need to tell Simon, so... Back in ten minutes?"

"Sandburg!" Oh for Christ sake! Moving fast, I manage to catch him by the arm just before he hits the hallway. "Hold on, Junior. You're not getting away without a shower either."

He's actually rolling his eyes and vibrating in his desire to be somewhere else. "No, that's okay, Jim. You go ahead. I can get one when we're back home."

"No way, Chief." I take an elaborate sniff and make a face. "You stink."

That makes him stop a second and look me in the eyes, carefully not looking anywhere else. I nod, tapping my nose. "Fear stink. It's really bothering me."

Sandburg nods reluctantly. "Okay, I'll take one when you're done."

Not exactly what I had in mind. "Not necessary. See? Six showerheads, no waiting."

"I, uh, think you need some privacy, man."

I shrug lazily and Sandburg twitches. His eyes are still pinned to my face, but I can tell he really wants to look. He's showing all the signs of arousal, including the tenting in his pants. This is all good but he could still spook. "This? It's nothing, Sandburg. Just a little leftover adrenaline. Ignore it and it'll go away." Not that we're going to be ignoring it.

Sandburg grabs onto that idea like a lifeline. "Sure, sure. The sexual response after a life and death situation. It's both physical -- the release of stress hormones --and psychological -- the human need to affirm life. Studies on the phenomenon show..."

I grin affectionately at the little professor, but I know once he's wound up he can chew a subject to pieces, so I throw up my hand. "I'm sure that's fascinating, but I'm catching a chill standing out here so..."

I head back to the shower area, snagging the soap along the way, and throw over my shoulder, jokingly, "Don't take too long, or I'll use up all the hot water."

The water's still running and I step back under it to warm up. Then I work up a lather and start soaping myself down. Normally, I'm quick and efficient in my clean-up routine but this is a seduction so I'm moving slower, touching myself and displaying for the silent figure standing in the doorway. I'm careful not to smile as he slowly begins taking off his clothes.

Sandburg sidles cautiously into the shower area and starts his shower along the opposite wall. He's facing inward, blocking my view of his crotch, but after living with the guy for this long I know the scent of Sandburg rut. I take a deep appreciate whiff, feeling my cock stiffen that little bit extra. "Hey Sandburg, catch!"

He turns just in time to catch the soap that I throw at him and I get a glimpse of a very nice hard-on. "Thanks," he mumbles and turns back.

I'm basically done, so I stand there and let the hot water pound against my back, idly watching him wash, the muscles in his back and legs flexing. He does have a nice ass. If circumstances were different, I'd be introducing myself to his ass right now. My cock lets me know it really likes that idea. Maybe some other time when Sandburg's not so shy.

Sandburg's sneaking cautious peeks through the curtain of his wet hair. I'm getting impatient, so I say, "You can look. I don't mind."

He actually jumps and says, "What? I wasn't..."

I grin knowingly at him. "I don't mind. It's not like I'm going to punch you, so look if you want." Then I deliberately check him out, lingering at his sturdy, red cock with the generous balls below and the dark, wet curls above. When I drag my gaze back up to his face, he's staring at me, pupils dilated, and his heart is beating like crazy.

The connection clicks into place and suddenly I'm feeling completely charged as electricity zings through my body and across the room as Sandburg gasps. The light's brighter, blood pounds in my ears and cock, and the smell of male musk is everywhere. And *there's* the look, raw and hungry, letting me know that, underneath the soft exterior, Sandburg is all male. Oh yeah, we're going to do this.

I'm feeling the power here. I'm in that groove when you know you've got it and the other guy wants it bad. There's no question in my mind at this moment that I can get anything I want from Sandburg. And what I want is...

"You suck cock, Chief?"

Sandburg's eyes widen and his mouth twitches like he can't believe I said that. Then he licks his lips and says, in a husky voice, "Is that what you want from me, Jim?"

He's looking me straight in the eye and there's no awkwardness in his gaze or his body stance now. Maybe Sandburg's feeling the groove himself. Maybe he thinks he can get me to do anything he wants because...

I want to fuck his mouth so bad I can taste it.

I'm across the small room and into his space so fast that he barely has time to startle. His eyes widen but he doesn't move back, even when I put hard, possessive hands on his hips and rasp out, "Yeah, that's what I want."

Sandburg's shorter than me so I have to widen my stance to get low enough to bring our cocks together. He hisses and closes his eyes, letting his head fall back. I stare down avidly at that beautiful mouth, lips parted, glimpse of tongue, as I roll my hips hard against him.

Sandburg's hands come up and grab my ass. Eyes still closed, he moans and begins thrusting up against me. It feels damn good, but it's not what I want. I let him have it for a minute to get him good and hot, then pull back, ignoring his protest. Pressing my forehead against his, I whisper urgently, "Suck me and I'll do you afterwards." C'mon Chief, let's get with the program here.

Sandburg shudders and whispers back, "Yeah, yeah, okay." Then he's sinking onto his knees and I'm watching my cock slide into that beautiful mouth so fast that I shout as I'm surrounded by intense, hot, wet suction. My eyes roll back in my head and my hips jerk forward.

Sandburg's too eager, bobbing up and down, tongue rubbing all the right spots. It feels incredible but I'm gonna shoot in less than thirty seconds if he keeps this up. This is too good to waste on a quickie. Grabbing handfuls of hair and realizing for the first time that there might actually be a practical reason for Sandburg's mop, I hold his head still while I settle down.

Sandburg whimpers impatiently, and the vibrations are so sweet on my cock that I gasp out, "Sh-shut up, Sandburg. Give me a minute." He freezes and stares up at me, waiting.

When I've got myself under control, I loosen my grip a little apologetically, but I still keep hold off his head, keeping him motionless. Then, eyes glued to the sight of my cock moving between those beautiful, lush lips, I slowly, slowly begin to fuck Sandburg.

Oh God, yeah. Now this feels fucking great. The slow tease is enough to stimulate me nicely but not enough to build to the point of no return. I can last a while like this. Since it's Sandburg here and I know I can trust him to catch me, I let the dials drift up and catch my breath as the pleasure pierces right through me. Careful, don't speed up. Just a nice, easy pace. Oh *yeah*.

I've done this before in places just like this, with the white glare of the tiles and the smell of industrial soap and the danger of discovery, and, for a moment, the memories swamp me. Good times. But the immediacy of getting my cock sucked grabs me and I let the memories go. The heat of Sandburg's mouth is the only place I want to be right now.

Sandburg's doing a nice job down there. Each time I slide into him, his tongue caresses my cock, lapping, pressing, circling the head. God, he's got good technique. Pressure's just right, no accidental scrape of teeth. Everything I've got is focused on my cock, aching with how fucking good this is. I'm starting to grunt softly with each thrust and I've got to speed up.

Sandburg's got his eyes shut, moaning continuously around my cock, and his hand is working his hard-on. "Stop it," my voice is rough in my throat. "That's mine." Sandburg opens his eyes, looking totally dazed, but his hand drops away. Good. I like... *mmm*... I like a man who follows orders.

I'm getting closer and I take one last listen around to make sure there's nobody on this deck before I let go. I hear voices and movement in the hold and up top, but nothing in the immediate vicinity. We're okay here... no interruptions... gonna happen.

Fuck yeah. Fuck. I'm grunting frantically and just barely remembering not to choke Sandburg to death as I speed up, my orgasm rushing up and here it comes... *God!* I throw back my head and freeze as everything explodes, the senses crashing around me, the sweet, intense ecstasy blowing the top of my fucking head off. Oh, this is... *God! Fuck! Yes! Oh... yeah... uhhh....*

Sandburg continues sucking gently and I'm shuddering through the aftershocks, still working my cock into that sweet mouth, until it's finally over and I pull out. I'm wheezing like an old man and my grip on Sandburg's head is all that's keeping me from swaying with exhaustion. But I could care less, my whole body is humming with satisfaction. *Goddamn,* that was good!

Reluctantly, I let go of his hair, fingers tangling as I pull away. My thumb glides over the bandage on his forehead. Crilly is damned lucky that antenna didn't do more damage or, cop or no cop, I'd have put the fear of Ellison in him. "Remind me to re-bandage this. This one's wet." Sandburg's looking at me thoughtfully and his eyes soften. We stare at each other silently until I break the moment, remembering that we're not finished yet. "Get up here, Sport. It's your turn."

Whatever Sandburg was thinking disappears in a flash of lust. He's scrambling up eagerly and, ignoring the filth on the floor, I kneel down.

I'm feeling sated and lazy and part of me is tempted to just suck him off fast, but he's given me one fucking fantastic blowjob and I owe him the same. So I steady myself with hands on his hips and begin with long, hard licks from root to tip. Blair trembles under my hands and he gasps, "Oh Jim, oh yes."

I rest my head a second against his belly and smile. Sandburg strokes my head, running his fingers through the strands. It feels good--warm and friendly. He's a good guy. I rub my cheek against his treasure trail and nip playfully at the head of his cock. Sandburg chuckles breathlessly, "C'mon Jim, I didn't tease you."

Good point. I pull back, grin up at him for a second and then swallow him as deep as I can. His eyes are huge and feverish as he watches me. I know what a turn on it is to watch yourself get sucked, so I play it up a little, gazing up at him with half-closed eyes, moaning seductively, tongue swirling around his dick. Sandburg's face is flushed and he's biting his lower lip as he stares down at me, hips pumping away.

"Ah shit, nooo," Sandburg moans suddenly, eagerness and disappointment equally mixed. His hands clamp on my shoulders, his hips jerk forward, and salty-sweet come shoots into my mouth. I'm more than a little surprised but gamely swallow as his cock twitches and another spurt, then another fills my mouth. From what I've heard coming from his room over the past year, he's not usually this quick on the trigger. I tell myself to cut the kid some slack. He's had a rough day.

Sandburg's still shaking through the last of his orgasm. One hand comes up to cup the back of my head, then his legs collapse and he slides next to me on the deck, gasping and laughing.

"Sorry about that," Sandburg chokes out, his forehead pressed against my shoulder.

Okay, I will not laugh. "Don't worry about it. We'll make it last longer next time."

Sandburg looks up at that and breaks into this sweet, hopeful grin. "Next time?"

I can't help smiling back, but my heart sinks. This guy refuses to abandon ship, risks death to defuse a bomb, saves dozens of lives, and now he looks just like an eager puppy wanting to play. Sandburg is well and truly back undercover again and about as sexy as a twelve year old. I can't handle blowing hot and cold like this. Time to nip this in the bud. I pull away and stand up, saying casually, "Sure. You know how it is. Always another life or death situation around the corner."

"Ah. Yeah, I know how it is, Jim." His tone is so dry and shrewd that my head whips around to stare at him as he gets up and walks outside to pick up a towel. What the fuck? For the first time, I wonder if Sandburg's cheerful personality is a complete act. Could be. It makes him innocuous enough to slide into a group, slip under the radar, until he's a member, accepted and unquestioned. Maybe the survivor is the real Sandburg? It's an intriguing thought.

While I'm mulling that idea over in my mind, we're both quietly drying off and pulling our clothes back on. Sandburg found me some jeans and a sweatshirt from a crewman only a little shorter than me. The boots are too big, but they'll do. Glancing over at Sandburg's blank face as he combs out his hair and stares down at the deck, I decide it's too risky. It's one thing to be stupid when your dick is talking, but I got my nut and the head brain is back in charge. Sandburg and I are better off as friends.

Tonight probably wasn't the smartest thing I've ever done, but the kid will get over this. The way he runs after anything in a skirt, by next week I'm sure somebody else will be on the menu and we'll be back to buds. I'm not worried about the partnership because Sandburg's proven himself there, but I have to admit I'd hate to lose the friendship. He can be annoying sometimes, but he's actually good company and it's nice to come home and hang out. I haven't had that in a long time, not since things got bad with Carolyn, and it's been... nice.

I finish tying the boot laces and stand up. Sandburg's just sitting there, chewing his lip and definitely not looking at me. Rubbing my chin and frowning, I figure I better say something or he'll sulk the rest of the night. "Listen, Sandburg..."

He jumps up, whacks me briskly on the shoulder, and says, as cheerful and friendly as if nothing ever happened back in that shower room, "Race you, Jim. Last one up rides back with Simon!"

My jaw drops as I stare at his ass jogging down the hallway and up the stairs out of sight. I know when I get up top, all I'll see is My Pal Sandburg, supportive and loyal as usual. Ever had the feeling the enemy has outflanked you and you didn't see it coming? Except Sandburg's not the enemy... It's just... that flash of cold cynicism. I can't make it fit with the goofball neo-hippie or the hero-worshipping academic. It's that damn sleeper thing all over again. The realization that I may never know who the real Sandburg is hits me like a ten-ton truck. Suddenly I feel dizzy, disoriented, like I'm standing on quicksand, or in the middle of a minefield -- and I have no fucking clue which direction is safe.



The End