WARNING! WARNING! WARNING!

This is not my normal stuff - it's dark, angry and has an unhappy ending. (Not a death story, I can't *do* death stories <shudder>). As some of you may know, my dark side sometimes takes over when I'm writing. The results usually go straight to the recycle bin, but every once in a while something comes up that is interesting enough to share. I have no idea if anyone will like this piece, but the angst appealed to me. Besides, I'm still depressed. I want angst. Lots of it. This contains *mild* b/d, and non-consensual sex (not rape, exactly. I think.)
 
 

Dark Dreams Lived by Legion
 
 

Crouching in one corner of the entryway, weapon at ready, Jim Ellison brought all his senses into focus and scanned the condemned apartment building for signs of his Guide. He didn't have to search long, nor had he expected to. From the time Blair had covered the escape of Morrison's battered family and been taken by him in retaliation, he had purposefully left a trail only a Sentinel could follow.

It had been thin at times, and Banks hadn't been willing to follow this last leap. Weeks earlier, when Jim had mentioned that he was more aware of the scents, the heat, the *presence* of his partner, Blair had insisted he try to learn to isolate it. They had had very little success then, but now that faint, un-definable trace that he had learned to identify as Blair tickled at his mind. He turned toward it, letting it lead him upstairs.

At each landing he paused, sweeping for signs of Morrison. Hearing footsteps, and the man's heartbeat, he tried to pinpoint his whereabouts, but the echoes of the empty building frustrated him. It was a zone on the echoes from debris crashing that let Morrison get close enough to fire on him. The click of the safety going off bounced through the zone, and Jim fell to the floor as the bullet passed through where he had been. He fired as he fell, taking Morrison's gun from his hand.

Morrison's bullet creased his head, running from right temple to behind the ear. Stunned, but not unconscious, he tried to dial down the ringing in his ears and bring up his sight at the same time. He pulled himself to his feet, focusing blearily on the other man's movements, and threw himself into what he hoped was Morrison's chest.

As he connected, he felt the hiss of gas move past him, and picked up the unmistakable scent of mace. Though the bulk of it went over his head, enough drifted down that Ellison knew he was in trouble. As Morrison shoved him away, he desperately brought his gun up and fired, aiming toward where he felt the warm air currents swirling. Then the burning in his head and eyes consumed him, and he writhed on the floor until the worst of it passed.

Long, long minutes later he took a clear breath and tried to get to his feet. He stumbled, located a wall to lean on, and forged his way toward the place his scrambled senses insisted Blair was. He found his partner and shuddered, suddenly grateful he *was* mostly off-line. Through barely focused eyes, he could see Blair was tied naked to a big shoddy brass bed, arms stretched straight up over his head. Ropes had fastened his ankles together and he was blindfolded and gagged.

Pushing away his reaction, Jim holstered the gun he had managed to hold onto, and focused on the frightened, rapid heartbeat and stink of fear. "Easy, buddy, easy. It's me." He fumbled his way to the bare mattress, and crawled onto it. Clumsily he scraped the blindfold off, catching and holding Blair's head between both hands to meet his gaze as best he could. "I'll get you out of here in a second." Blair's eyes widened dramatically, and Jim wondered how bad he looked with the blood from his head seeping down his into his collar, the dirt from the floor, and his red, weeping eyes.

He scrabbled at the gag, couldn't get his fingers under it, and abandoned it, going instead for the ropes at Blair's wrists. Unable to get a purchase on the knot, Jim bent to try to see it more clearly. The change in position made his head explode in pain and he lost consciousness, falling partially onto his partner's body.

His trip back to awareness was made very reluctantly, and only a nagging sense of duty made him even try. Letting each sense report in one at a time, he fought the rise to wakefulness and pain, trying to piece together the information in his muddled mind. Smell came first, and the scent of stale sex, semen, male arousal, and blood tripped old memories from his last assignment in Vice. He sifted through them, confused, and growing more so as his concussed brain added the feel of a smaller male body lying under him, trembling.

Automatically he moved to accommodate them both, rolling to his side and tucking the man into the curve of his body, front to back. There was resistance as he arranged them, and Jim ran a quick hand over the other person, finding the ropes binding him. With an expert touch he checked to make sure the soft cords weren't too tight, and that there was enough give to allow his captive to be shifted again to his back or stomach.

This situation was familiar to Jim, and he lost himself in time, living again as a vice cop, undercover in a male prostitution ring as a dominant 'top.' Wearily he slipped into role, whispering, "Shh, shh, it's ok. It's ok," to the customer he held. A first timer for this kind of game, he guessed, from the shaking - his specialty, after all, and he smiled bitterly. "Shh, shh," he whispered again, and nuzzled into the top of the curly head under his chin.

The light, herbal aroma, mixed with man's own, somehow familiar, natural scent, went through him, pulling pleasantly at his gut. He cracked open an eye and looked down to see the form in his arms. Blinking, not quite able to focus, he shut it again at the stab of renewed pain. He must have drunk too much again to get through this, he thought. His peek had showed him why: the john was a beautifully made, graceful looking young man. Someone he would have liked to have for real, instead of by the hour. Pushing his needs away with determined force, he turned his attention back to the other man. Using his lightest touch, he skimmed his fingertips over the smaller man's chest, enjoying the wiry spring of the hair there.

His companion stiffened, and Jim returned his hand to the neutrality of his waist. Definitely a beginner. Well, he knew what to do; he cuddled close, crooning softly, "You're safe, no one is going to hurt you. It's all right. It'll be ok." It didn't take very long for the other man to relax, settling into the comfort of Jim's warmth. When Jim judged he was sufficiently accepting of his position, he said in the same gentling tone of voice, "I'm not going to hurt you; I *am* going to rape you, but there won't be any pain, I promise." He gave a broad lick to the vulnerable nape, but only had time for that one caress before his customer exploded.

Jim let him fight the ropes, one hand on the small of his back to maintain contact, and waited patiently for him to wear down. It took so long for the frantic thrashings to fade that Jim began to wonder if the john had lost his nerve. He listened carefully for him to use his safe words. When he didn't, he had to admire the man's spirit. Obviously afraid, and just as obviously not going to give up what he wanted despite it.

"Go ahead, struggle as much as you want," he reassured the tied man. He took the time to unbutton the front of his own shirt and open his pants to free his growing erection as he did. "That's what the ropes are for. You won't be punished for it. Fight as hard as you need." Working by feel, Jim began to gather hands full of the curly hair lashing him, being careful not to pull. He smoothed the length of it, pulling it back, savoring the texture and scent. Digging under it, he scratched lightly at the skull of his playmate, noting his gradual calming.

When the john was calm, though so tense his muscles had to hurt, Jim murmured, "It doesn't matter, anyway. I *am* going to have you. I'm going to fuck you in the ass so hard and so deep, you'll measure every lover by me for the rest of your life." Ignoring the sharp intake of breath and angry mumblings, Jim kept petting the long hair under his hands. "You're going to love it, dear one, whether you want to or not," Jim warned softly.

Not begrudging the effort or time, Jim began to knead the shoulders and neck of the other man. They gave, eventually, though Jim could tell he was trying not to give in to the soothing touch. Making little sounds of approval, he sought for and found an ear to breath into and covered it with the tiniest kisses and nips he could manage. His hands worked their magic up to the bound wrists, then began to fondle and massage each finger, easing them from their clenched fists.

"That's good, dear one, that's good. Let go, give it up to me." He coaxed, rubbing deep, soothing circles into the palms and wrists. "You know you want this." At the angry head shake and negative grunt, he laughed softly. "Deny it as much as you want. Your body tells me the truth." With quick dancing movements, he brought his hands down to the heaving chest, and began to trace patterns that dodged and teased around the nipples there.

"They're up, aren't they? Tight, wanting to be pinched, wanting my mouth on them?" Placing a sucking kiss on the soft skin behind the ear he had been tormenting, he rolled the erect nubbins between finger and thumb. "Oh, yeah. Yeah! Begging for it, aren't they?" The body beside him had grown very, very still, and Jim knew it was a fight not to moan, not to arch into the sensation. "That's not the only part of you that's hard, is it, dear one? Not the only place you'd like to have licked, sucked."

Abandoning the nipples, Jim resumed his intricate path through the downy hair, skirting the navel, coming back up to skate around the edge of it, then down into the pubic curls, stopping just short of the source of heat. "Still trying to deny it?" He cupped the heavy balls underneath, rolling them lovingly, "Still refusing to admit what you need?" Burying his face in the curve of neck and shoulder, Jim abruptly took the young man's hard-on in hand, and pumped it lightly. This time his companion could not contain the moan of pleasure and instinctive surge into the grip holding him.

"Yes, yes!" Jim encouraged him, quickening his strokes. "It's all right, it's supposed to feel good." He slowed his hand, then stopped. "You're so very beautiful. I want to do something nice for you, now, something to make you feel even better." He turned the john to his back, and lay on him, keeping his weight on his elbows and knees. Blindly he smoothed the long hair back from the fine boned features under his fingertips, and spread it out on the pillow. Needing to see if what he was doing was as erotic as he imagined, he persuaded himself to peel open his eyes.

He *knew* the blue eyes burning up at him filled with passion, pain and confusion. Knew the precious face framing them.

"Blair!" His head spun again, and his mind shifted, losing it's way momentarily in pain and memories. Blair under him, naked - he tried to fit that fact into what he knew, and couldn't. Wildly he stared around the lamp lit, dilapidated, dirty room, then back down into the upturned face of his partner.

A scrape marred the right side of his jaw, and one eye had been blackened, the bruise spreading all the way down into the gag covering his mouth. The marks and bruises on Blair were at least twenty-four hours old; he couldn't be responsible for them. He *couldn't!*

Were they undercover? Or had Blair found out somehow about that last disastrous vice assignment and this was some strange way of helping him deal with it? Was he dreaming, one of those incredibly real and intense dreams he'd been having since Peru? A shudder of disgust shook him, and he closed his eyes, teetering on the edge of blackness again, unaware of the pain and confusion clearly written on his features.

Blair shoved up at him, hard, and Jim's eyes popped back open. This time there was only concern in those expressive eyes, and Jim simply slid away into their depths. With a touch as tangible as skin to skin, he felt Blair's feelings, un-named and un-nameable and knew that dream, hallucination, or act - it didn't matter. All that mattered was the erection thrumming against his hip, the heat pouring off his partner, and a hunger he had sworn to never satisfy again. But, for Blair, he would, this once.

He bent and gave a broad, opened-mouthed swipe at one hard nipple on Blair's chest. The taste was superb, and Blair's deep chested groan the perfect sauce for it. "So very responsive, " he whispered, appreciatively. "You don't even know how much pleasure you're capable of, do you? Time to learn."

Both little points were laved and bitten until Blair's almost continuous moan held a note of hysteria. "Shh, shh," he soothed, his lips beginning the trip down to Blair's stomach, following the same torturous path his fingers had traveled earlier. "Shhh, I know you need more, I know." When he was close enough, he darted the tip of his tongue out to catch a drop of pre-cum glistening on Blair's cock.

The taste hit him hard; Blair's shout of pleasure through the gag even harder. For a moment he turned his head away, fighting for control. To distract himself, he let his senses range out, not paying attention to the information, as long as it wasn't from Blair. One scent rang a bell in his mind and he looked for the tube of KY until he found it, half used and carelessly tossed on the sleeping bag and fleece wrap crumpled between the mattress and foot-board.

He retrieved it and coated two fingers, then, without warning, drew the head of Blair's hard-on into his mouth. Hips lifting urgently, Blair tried to go deeper and Jim slipped his hand under him, his lubed fingers finding Blair's tense pucker swiftly and surely. Despite the pleasure, Blair froze ass cheeks impossibly hard in fear and tension. Jim didn't move, though he let his prize slide free from his lips.

Unable to maintain his bowed posture, Blair reluctantly softened his muscles, his bottom settling into Jim's palm. As a reward Jim immediately ran his tongue down the length of Blair's cock, and rubbed both fingers over the opening. Blair tensed again; Jim waited, tongued him again when he relaxed, and dipped the tip of one finger into the rim. They kept up the pattern until Blair was accepting first one finger, then both, riding them with grunts of pleasure and Jim was taking most of him with deep, sucking strokes.

Jim felt the almost imperceptible hardening of Blair's penis that told him he was on the brink, and pulled his head completely away, keeping his hand in place. Blair thrust blindly into the air, then stopped with a muffled complaint. Leaning his forehead onto Blair's belly, Jim bided his time until Blair squirmed a bit on the intruders into his body. As soon as he did, Jim capped Blair's cock with his mouth and let him shove himself in as far as he could. Blair stilled, and Jim lifted just far enough away he couldn't be mouth fucked. Experimentally, Blair rocked onto fingers filling him and Jim put his head back down.

That was all it took for Blair to get the message, though it was longer before he surrendered and began to fuck himself down onto Jim's hand and up into his mouth. When Jim felt the oncoming orgasm, he began pumping with his free hand, taking Blair as far down his throat as he could. Blair cried out his name, understandable even through the gag, and Jim shuddered, swallowing eagerly, milking him dry.

Shaking, he muttered, "Oh god, Blair, oh god. You've made me so hot, so hungry for you." With a final, gentle kiss to the curve of Blair's hip, he slowly sat up, fighting dizziness, and tugged the fleece throw free of the foot of the bed. He made it into a pillow, and placed it so that it would raise Blair's bottom into the air when he was turned over.

At Blair's startled stare at the rampant cock he was sporting, Jim chuckled understandingly, control returning in some measure. "I told you I was going to have you, dear one. Everything so far has been foreplay. And you know what?" he asked, bending forward to casually brush a lock of hair away from Blair's face. "It's going to get even better." With that he easily flipped his lover onto the pillion, taking in Blair's whimper like music.

He straddled Blair's bound legs, and admired the way his bottom was lifted up for his inspection. "You didn't really think I would be able to resist this wonderful, tight, hot little hole, did you?" He said conversationally, strongly massaging the white globes in front of him. "You don't want me to, do you, hmmm? You know you're going to love it. You loved being finger-fucked - so much you could have taken my entire hand. You're going to take my whole cock inside you, and beg for me to take you, fuck you, rape you."

On the last word, Jim pried open Blair's cheeks with his palms, and drove both thumbs into the rosy bud hidden between them. Blair lunged forward, grunting loudly, not from pain but from the unexpected burst of pleasure. He tried to remain motionless after that, but Jim gave him no peace, and played his ace card. Knotting together three of his fingers, he probed deeply and found Blair's prostate.

Almost screaming in reaction, Blair couldn't stop himself from heaving back, trying for more of that intense stimulation. Jim gave it to him, but only for a few thrusts. Then he placed the head of his hard-on at Blair's hole, and waited. He reached under, found his lover's arousal and gave one sure stroke. "Come on, come on, take me into you, let me fill you," he cajoled, "let me come in you, *make* me come in you."

Blair starting shaking, sobbing but refused to move. Shaking, too, Jim whispered, brokenly, urgently, "Blair heart, take what you need, take it now!"

Blair howled and drove himself back onto Jim's cock, then forward into the tight grip of Jim's fist. Jim's eyes rolled into the back of his head and he arched his back to drive himself deep into Blair's body, shouting each time Blair took him to the hilt. Blair pounded back at him, going faster and faster until Jim felt his asshole get tighter, ready to come.

"Oh! God! OH! GOD! You're ripping it from me!" Jim moaned abandoning Blair's cock, and falling forward onto him, stretching up his hands to grip the ropes holding Blair. "I have shoot in you, I have to, it's your fault, I have to, I have to. I! HAVE! TO!" He pounded into his lover, sending hard, long spurts of his seed into him. Under him, Blair silently shuddered as if breaking into pieces, his cock jerking in sympathy, sending it's own semen into the cushion he was fucking.

Going completely limp, barely able to take enough of his weight onto his elbows to keep from crushing Blair, Jim strove to stay awake. Some instinct warned him against giving into the beckoning sleep and he started to pick at the knots in the cords on Blair's wrists, as much to keep himself alert as to make his lover more comfortable. They defied his lack of co-ordination and he was forced give up. He fell to one side, still mostly covering his partner. The temptation to go under became too much and he started to drift away, murmuring sadly into Blair's hair as he did, unaware he spoke, "Why did you have to find this old whore now, dear one? When I'm too used up and empty to be more than a living dildo for you?"

Blair made an odd sound, and turned his head to try to nuzzle against Jim's cheek. With a gentle kiss, Jim cuddled back, and was almost asleep when the sound of a door crashing open several floors below jerked him into a sitting position. Automatically he reached for his weapon, and Morrison's existence blasted to the front of his mind. He leapt off the bed, nearly falling to the floor, and made himself stand upright. At Blair's demanding grunt he waved, indicated his ears, and tried to make sense of the hushed scurryings and muffled thumps below.

Absentmindedly he did up his clothes and dragged the sleeping bag over Blair. "I’m sorry, Chief." He said as quietly as possible, "but someone is downstairs. I need a knife to cut those cords off; you're going to have to wait til I get back up here." Blair sighed melodramatically and shrugged as best he could. It didn't hide the worry on his face, and Jim didn't bother to try to hide his.

Moving as stealthily as he could, the pain in his head renewing itself as he did so, he crept downstairs. By the time he reached the floor where the most noise was centered, he was dizzy again, staying on his feet by pure stubborness. Once he misjudged his step, and stumbled, bumping too hard into the wall, head first, reopening the wound on his head. Keeping Blair's safety at the front of his mind, he braced himself at top of one landing, and waited for someone to come through the door.

At the first moving shadow, he leveled his weapon and yelled, "Freeze, Cascade police!" in his most convincing cop voice.

"Ellison!" A familiar voice barked back.

Hastily, Jim skidded down the rest of the steps, practically crashing into Captain Banks. Simon put out a steadying hand and braced his detective. It wasn't enough and Jim fell onto his knees. That simple impact to his body over-rode his last resources, and he lost his grip on consciousness. As he spiraled into oblivion, he ground out, "Morrison... may be wounded."

"Where, Jim! Jim!" Simon held him upright by force and yelled again. "Jim!"

"Sandburg... up..st...." Jim mumbled, then collapsed onto the floor.
 
 

Blair sat on the edge of his chair in the hospital waiting room, and stared down at the cord in his hands. Distantly he could hear the doctors in Jim's room, speaking to each other and the nurses in calm, considering voices. Part of him wanted to run, part of him wanted to destroy something, part of him wanted to be in there with Jim, holding him. All him was at war with himself, and he didn't have a clue how to make peace.

"Sandburg!"

At the sound of Banks calling his name, Blair looked up, not surprised when Simon threw himself into the chair next to him and gripped him by the shoulder.

"Jim's..."

"Better," Blair cut in, sharply, reassuringly. "Regained consciousness about half an hour ago; doctors are giving him a going over, right now."

Sitting back with a relieved grunt, Simon said, "Good. I want a verbal report from him as fast as possible, so I can close this case and let that woman and her children get back to normal lives."

"He isn't going to be able to, Simon. Between the concussion, fight, and mace, his brains are completely scrambled. He doesn't remember anything from the time he brought them to the safe house on Tuesday."

"Nothing!" Simon blurted.

"Nothing. Not unusual with a cracked skull, or so the doctors say."

They both fell silent, and Blair went staring at the action of his hands. After a minute, Simon said very gently. "So your testimony is going to be all IA has to go on."

Blair didn't look up. "It's simple enough. Morrison was upstairs with me, planning on making me a substitute spouse. He, um, had a problem with being a bit too happy with my attributes, and was trying to get it up again when he heard Jim come into the building. Jim couldn't have known how every sound was magnified in that place, or I'm sure he would have snuck in a better way.

"Anyway, Morrison went downstairs. I heard gunshots, then someone coming upstairs. It was Jim; he was hurt. He passed out trying to get me loose, and was just coming around when your team got there. From what he said, he didn't know he had killed the creep, so he went downstairs thinking he had to take him down. You know it from there."

Simon listened to Blair impassively, then said as neutrally as possible, "And you weren't hurt at all. Morrison didn't have a chance."

Just as impassively, Blair said, as he had repeatedly since Simon freed him from the ropes, "Nothing happened to me except I got a few bumps and bruises. I'm fine, Simon. I don't need medical attention, I don't need to *see* someone. I'm fine."

Not bothering to hide his skepticism, Simon awkwardly patted the young man on the back. "Blair - if you need someone to talk to..."

The smile Blair sent his way was genuine, if a bit watered-down. "I know. Thank you." He looked over at Jim's room, and asked, "I think they're done in there, if you want to see Jim now."

Taking the hint, Simon stood and left Blair alone. Not bothering to watch him go, Blair looked back down at the cord he was wrapping around and around his wrist.

The End