Blair sprawled bonelessly over Jim's back, head nestled between the bigger man's shoulders. Their bodies were cooling, and Blair could feel his cock slipping free of the embrace of Jim's depths. He mourned, silently, for that connection, wishing there were some way to keep it indefinitely.

He felt Jim sigh and knew that sleep wasn't far away for him. If he wanted, he could stop that trip for Jim, simply by rolling away. But, knowing how much his lover liked falling asleep in just this position, in just this way, he snuggled in a little deeper, trying to make up for the loss between them.

His movement caused the glint of red from the bedside table to catch his eye. The sight of the lead-crystal apple made his smile widen; the lessons in lovemaking, Sentinel style, had ended with that gift. Well, the formal ones, anyway. Smile fading slightly, he reassured himself that learning the preferences and needs of any partner took a while. If he didn't exactly have practice in the long-term classes, he certainly had motivation to acquire it.

Suddenly feeling restless, he stroked his cheek against Jim's back. If only the big guy weren't so comfortable with things the way they were, he could speak up. So soon after the fuss he made over re-orienting Jim's sensuality, it didn't seem right to complain about his passiveness.

Blair stifled a sigh. Weird how someone so aggressive in his life and job could be so accepting in the bedroom. Probably Jim was still adjusting to the changes in his love life. In time, hormones and personality would reassert themselves and Jim would stop waiting patiently and start reaching hungrily. The image of Jim bending over him, thrusting powerfully, one hand tangled in his hair raced through Blair's mind.

A twinge of arousal snaked through him, and he fidgeted, trying not to disturb his sleeping lover. Listening carefully, he decided Jim was under far enough that it wouldn't disturb him if their positions changed. He eased away, pulling a blanket over Jim as he did. Running a loving hand over Jim's close-cropped head, he decided he wasn't going to be able to sleep for a while.

Again he listened; after a moment he judged that he could leave the bed without waking his partner. It was early, really; he could get several hours work done. With the faculty mixer tomorrow, he wouldn't be able to do anything for a couple of days, at least. He padded nude down the stairs to his old room, where he still kept his research.

Behind him, brilliant blue eyes opened, tracking him as he moved. The pain in them dulled the color; then they shut resolutely as long years of military discipline sent the mind back into sleep. Discipline, however, could not keep the body from curling into itself tightly, as if to husband rapidly fading warmth.
 
 

"Man, I hate these things." Blair stood, bouncing from foot to foot as Jim adjusted his tie for him. "Standing around, trying not to look bored, pretending you give a damn about some old tenured fart's opinions on what's wrong with the world... it is just *such* a waste of time. Faculty mixer - ha! Faculty torture for fun and profit is more like it." He continued to grumble until, with a darting kiss, Jim brushed his hands over Blair's shoulders and stepped away.

"Why go?" he asked, knowing it was punching another button. Sure enough, Blair began to go on about campus politics and how they made DC politics look like kindergarten squabbles. Jim leaned against a convenient wall, taking the opportunity to drink in his fill of Blair at his best. Bright, glowing with energy and life, face animated - Blair was a heat he wanted to capture and hold forever.

"Hey, you don't have to zone to get quiet, Big Guy. I'm outta here."

Jim brought himself sharply back, and responded to the amusement in his partner's voice. "Blair, it'll take an hour for the echoes in the room to quiet after you leave. No need to hurry." He brought his face level to Blair's, stealing a quick kiss. "Away, any how."

Blair laughed and wrapped his arms around Jim's neck. "Hint taken." This kiss was longer and sweeter, stopping only when Jim's fingers began to tug on the tie he had just adjusted. Laughing against his mouth, Blair caught those with his own. "You can unwrap me later, Pet. My reward for actually wearing this torture device."

"Yes, teacher," Jim intoned childishly, then opened the door with a mock bow.

Still laughing, Blair sailed through it, his fingers lingering on Jim's until the last possible moment.

Watching the door shut, Jim brought his hands to his face, vainly trying to capture the warmth Blair had left behind. After a minute, he picked up his own jacket and headed off to the special briefing Simon had called.
 
 

The Corvair pulled gingerly up to the curb, Blair mocking himself as he did for babying the vehicle. As if that would make a difference to it's condition. Molly apparently thought so, too, since she started grinning broadly. "I know, I know," she laughed, "it's a classic."

Blair shared her laughter, then started to open the door to walk around and let her out. She caught him with a quick hand, which stroked his jaw before she dropped it back into her lap. "Are you sure you don't want to come in? I've got some blue mountain Kenyon I could brew - a thank you for the ride."

Refusing to meet her eyes, he just shook his head. "It's a lot later than I wanted to be out, already. I've still got classes to prepare for, too." He looked at her, finally, and smiled. "Thanks for the offer, though."

Leaning in close, Molly kissed his cheek, then angled in to catch his mouth. Blair eased away, trying to make his avoidance of her not too rude. "Uh, Molly."

Moving even closer, she nibbled on one ear. "Sure you don't want to come in?"

He pulled even further away, not being so careful this time about his rejection. "Molly. Thank you, really. I mean, I really appreciate it. But, uh," he trailed off as she hit his weak spot, just behind his ear. Shivering, he backed away, getting cornered against the door. "Moll, there's someone. It's really special..."

Taking his tie in hand, Molly began to pull on it. "Great! You deserve someone special," she whispered in his ear. "Come on, I thought about you all evening. You don't have to worry about her finding out. I won't tell if you don't." She moved until she was sitting astride his lap, skirt rucked up to her hips.

Blair groaned. He wouldn't have to tell. One sniff and he was going to have some serious explaining to do, as is. Gripping her upper arms, he started to push her away when a glance down told him she wasn't wearing any panties. Fire raced across his nerves, and he felt himself harden. "No," he muttered, "no, Molly, this is the one I want forever."

She was plastered against him, now, working on the buttons of his shirt, kissing as she opened it. "So? What difference does it make whether it's a wife or a girlfriend you're screwing around on? Having someone never stopped you in the past. For old times sake, umm?"

Instinct had him arching up into her, even as his hands fastened more tightly on her arms and pushed her away. Laughing, she leaned in and caught his mouth. Without meaning to, he moaned then tore away. "It matters to me! Maybe trust never mattered before, but it does now! Molly..."

He fumbled behind him, reaching for the doorknob. Molly was making silky noises deep in her throat, working herself against his erection. God, he loved it when a woman came onto him like this, and something inside rolled. For one second, only one, he wanted nothing more in the world than to turn with her in his arms, lay her over the car seat, and pound into her. She kissed him again, and he froze in indecision, but not before he caught the door handle in a death grip.

She worked a hand between their bodies, reaching for his hard-on, and that panicked him into trying, ridiculously, to back away. His hand slipped on the door handle, pulling it down and the door opened, tumbling both of them out onto the road.
 
 

Thankfully, he was upstairs, the loft dark, when Blair got home. With Blair unable to see him, Jim clenched his fist, heart shivering into dust as the scent of female musk, male arousal and woman's perfume hit him. A little longer, he thought frantically. I wanted to keep him a little longer. Is that so much to want?

He listened as Blair went into his old room, undressed, and slipped into the shower. When the younger man came upstairs, Jim was rolled onto his side, pretending to be asleep. At the sigh of relief from Blair, he bit his lip. Just a little longer, please. Blair slid under the sheet, spooning himself into Jim's back.

Feigning waking, Jim muttered, deliberately indistinctly, and caught one of Blair's hands to hold snugly against his chest. At Blair's soothing murmur, he allowed himself to be lulled, falling truly asleep, still thinking, just a little longer, please.
 
 

Taking a sip from his coffee, Jim moved to the balcony doors to check the weather. Though sunshine poured through now, he knew it was supposed to rain later. He had been amusing himself for years by looking at the water and guessing whether or not the forecast would be accurate.

He enjoyed the view for a moment, then turned to share his prognostication with Blair, who claimed to be using the information as part of his research - Sentinel Weather at 6: Hypersensitivity as a Natural Barometer. The memory of the various rifts Blair had pulled on that had him smiling, but it faded as he saw his Guide at the kitchen table, reading the paper and sitting in a pool of warm light.

The sunshine had gilded each individual lock of Blair's hair, making it glimmer with a thousand colors and shades. One splash of pure light trailed over his cheek, and, as Jim watched, he absently brushed it back behind an ear. Jim knew the texture of that lock, that ear and the echo of that caress slipped over his skin. So very, very beautiful, he thought, moving to make the echo real.

At his touch, Blair looked up, a welcoming smile already in place. Brushing his fingertips over the curve of those lips, Jim followed up with a gentle kiss that rapidly grew deep and rugged as his hands warmed from the weight of Blair's sun filled hair. He knelt beside the chair Blair was in, anchoring himself as Blair dropped the paper and leaned into the kiss, one hand resting on Jim's chest.

Breaking away, he pulled in a ragged breath then began to cover Blair's face with butterfly kisses and licks. As Blair's arms came up to hold him, he worked his way toward Blair's ear, his weak spot.

Only to have Blair flinch as he came close. It was a tiny rejection, one someone less attuned to his partner might have missed.

The fire that had begun to burn inside him died, but he turned the aim of his touch to Blair's shoulder, laying his head there, briefly. "Yeah, you're right, Chief. I shouldn't start this if I don't want to be late. And we're under the microscope as it is, with this sniper business."

Blair's heartbeat, which had spiked when he flinched, settled a little, telling Jim that he was going the take the out provided. "Sorry, babe. I am *just* so behind, it isn't funny. I got up early just to catch up."

Sure his face would show only what he wanted, now, Jim lifted his head and gave a quick peck to the end of Blair's nose. "Keep, the thought, mmm?"

"Absolutely!" The agreement was real, as was the relief under it.

Unable to bear any more, Jim quickly stood and went for his jacket and keys. "It won't hurt me to get in early, for that matter." He hoped he didn't sound rushed. "Clear off some stuff, get it out of the way, you know?" He leered from the door, "No need to hurry later, right?"

At Blair's smiling agreement, he raised a hand in farewell, and dashed out the door, practically running to the truck when he was sure the door was shut behind him.
 
 

The smile faded faster than the door shutting behind Jim. Taking a shaky breath, eyes closed, Blair tried to calm himself. It didn't work, and he bent until he could bang his head on the table a few times. "One of maybe four times he's come onto me, and I freak because I think he's going to be able to tell somehow that Molly was all over me last night." he thought to himself.

It wasn't as if they hadn't talked about getting their buttons pushed, and being honest with each other about it, he thought. With a stab of pure lust, he remembered watching Jim pleasure himself, the last time a woman had gotten to him. Groaning, he reached down to adjust his growing erection.

Maybe if he told Jim about Molly and last night, he would want to watch Blair do the same. Another memory surfaced - Jim watching him prepare for the first time he had taken Jim into himself - and the stab of need hit him again. "Damn, damn, damn," he swore softly. Still frustrated by last night's fiasco with Molly, his body was letting him know in no uncertain terms that he needed relief. Now.

Licking his lips, he looked at the door Jim had just left through. "I really, really can't wait, Big Guy. I'll make it up to you," he promised in his mind. With a huge sigh he freed himself from his jeans, deciding to take care of it where he was. The smells of cooking and the open balcony doors would take care of the scent of his semen.

Closing his eyes, he built the image that had been haunting him for weeks now. Jim, behind him, deep inside, holding him upright, one arm around his waist to support him, the other crossing his chest, fingers toying with his nipples. Moaning, he could almost feel the hard strength of Jim's chest, feel his mouth on the soft flesh behind his ear, feel the long thrusts of Jim's cock fill him.

Even as he stroked himself frantically, he imagined Jim refusing to touch him, refusing to give him release. "Take it, Teach, take it. Just me, just this, that's all you get. Take it, take it." In his mind, each 'take it' was punctuated with another thrust.

"Take it," he murmured. "Take it." Back arching against the chair, he gave one more savage pull on himself, shouted "Take it!" and climaxed. Panting, he pumped once or twice more, but now that the pressure was gone, so was the pleasure.

Using a dishtowel from the table he quickly cleaned himself, not even bothering to fight off the mild depression he felt. Tonight, he promised himself, he would come clean with Jim, do something special. Tonight.
 
 

Downstairs, in the truck, Jim sat hunched over, holding his ears against the pounding sound of the heavy metal band playing on the radio. He made no move to turn it off. Never sure of his sentinel abilities, he was afraid that he would still be able to hear Blair up in the loft, even from here.

Berating himself for going back for the cell phone, berating himself for ever thinking he would be able to satisfy Blair, berating himself for being alive, he tried to use the pain of the music to drown out the pain in his heart.

Last night had been bad, but he had never expected Blair to give up women. But Blair preferring his own hand to sharing with him - it felt like betrayal. Telling himself that he was over-reacting, that it was easier to jerk off, sometimes, did not help.

Finally, the fear that Blair would come downstairs and find him sitting there overpowered the pain, and he was able to move. On the drive to the precinct, he pulled his concentration together enough to decide to volunteer to work a double. Simon had been asking for them, because of the sniper that had been taking pot shots at officers at crime scenes. It would give him time to think, to find some way to deal with the cold darkness that had taken up residence where his heart had been.
 
If the day hadn't been routine he wouldn't have made it. Habit got him through most of it, and pure bluff worked when his inattention could have gotten him in trouble. The evening shift was quiet, no need for the extra backup, and while he pretended to do paperwork, he thought long and hard about his life.

About Blair.
 
On the drive home he admitted to himself that all the scenarios he had come up with - confronting Blair, making a joking reference, punching him out and leaving it to him to figure out why - none of them were going to happen. He had had a dozen imaginary conversations with Blair during the day, and none of them rang true. 

Jaw tight, he knew he wasn't going to do anything that might rock the boat. As badly as he hurt, losing Blair was going to hurt worse. Until then, he would deal with whatever came as it came. In his mind's eye he saw Blair as he had been this morning - light, warmth and beauty. No price was too high to have that as long as humanly possible.

Feeling normal for the first time that day, he pulled into his parking space and made for the loft faster than he had left that morning. He started to call out as he came in, but spotted Blair lying on the couch, asleep. The last of his anger and pain melted, and he sat down gingerly on the edge of the couch.

Apparently Blair had fallen asleep reading; a book was face down on his chest, and he was wearing his glasses. Gently Jim removed the glasses, putting them and the book on the table. Using feather touches, so not to wake Blair, he traced the resting features. As always he had no outlet for the tenderness he felt, so he contented himself with that simple touch.
 
 

Sometime before dawn, Blair woke, stretching luxuriously against the hard body half covering him. Vaguely, he knew there was something wrong, but comfortable and content where he was, he didn't give it much consideration. It wasn't until he opened his eyes to see the wrong ceiling that it sunk in.

Cautiously, he peered down Jim's length. Yep, they were on the couch. Somehow Jim had managed to tuck the both of them into the tiny space, even though parts of the bigger man were hanging precariously close to the edge. Jim was going to be one huge ache tomorrow if he spent the entire night like this.

Moving carefully, Blair snuck a peek at his watch. As early as it was, he wouldn't be able to go back to sleep. He almost never could, which is probably why Jim didn't try to move him in the first place. But there was plenty of time before Jim's alarm went off. No reason for him not to spend the rest of the night in a more comfortable position.

"Come on, Big Guy, let's take this upstairs." He pushed hard on the shoulder laying half across his chest. "Jim, I'm too small to be a mattress, and too lumpy for a pillow. Move!"

Jim lifted his head from the crook of Blair's neck, and blearily answered, "I like your lumps." He put his head back down, but moved easily enough when Blair gave another shove. Shaking his head, with a tiny smile in place, Blair helped Jim to his feet and up the stairs. Some people are grumpy when they're half- asleep; Jim, the hard-assed cop, was a sweetie. Go figure.

"What were you doing on the couch, anyway?" Blair asked as he settled Jim into bed.

"That's where you were," Jim mumbled.

Startled, Blair paused in pulling covers up. A thousand times Jim had said, "I love you." That simple statement said it again, but with a power that went through Blair with painful intensity. Feeling the unexpected bite of tears, he made himself finish tucking Jim in. Then he lay beside the sleeping man.

"Tomorrow," he vowed. "I will get everything straight with Jim. Please, to anybody and everybody, let me get straight with Jim. Don't let me mess this up."
 
 

Life and chaos in general can help make broken promises. Every day Blair planned to talk with Jim. Every day, something stopped him. That first morning Simon woke them with the news of another sniper attack; this time someone was hurt. All day he looked for an opportunity to speak with his lover, but at the end of the day they had had almost no time. Exhausted, they both fell into bed and sleep.

After a week of double duty for both of them, with little or no time together, let alone intimacy, Blair persuaded himself to let the issue slide. Too much time had gone by; love-making was too catch as catch can to bring any stress to it; Jim didn't need a relationship problem to deal with now.

When Banks called them to the office, they both thought there had been a break in the sniper case. Jim had nearly gotten him a few days ago, and they were both hoping the partial description had helped.

Instead, a stone-faced Banks had asked for Blair's observer ID.

"Hey, what I'd do, man? Don't I even get a chance to defend myself?" Blair backed away, as if the piece of plastic were going to be taken by force.

At the same time, Jim leaned on Banks desk and yelled, "Are you trying to get me killed out there?"

"When was the last time you zoned, Detective?" Simon's emphasis on the last word was slight, but there.

"Not for a while, but because Blair is usually there, *sir.*" Jim's emphasis was sarcastic. At Bank's dead stare, he moderated his tone slightly, but went on stubbornly. "You know how it is with a partner, Captain. Half the time they know what you're going to do before you do. He stops a zone before I get there."

"This isn't my decision, and it's not up for discussion. The higher ups are wondering why it's taken two years to research for a thesis. They're starting to think he's some kind of cop groupie."

"That's not fair." Blair insisted. "I pull my own weight around here, and you know it. And not just with Jim. Half the cops in this department come to me for feedback."

"They don't want a civilian here, right now, Sandburg."

Jim caught Blair's eye; at his barely perceptible nod, he lowered his voice dangerously. "Is that really the problem, Captain? Or do they just object to having a fag cop and his lover riding together?"

Simon closed his eyes in shock. When he opened them again, it was their friend looking back at them. "That's not the best way for me to find that out, Jim."

Straightening, Jim rubbed his face with both hands, then sat on the edge of the conference table. "You're right, Simon."

Blair perched next to Jim. "I guess we both thought you had figured it out."

Shaking his head ruefully, Simon confessed. "It crossed my mind once or twice. I always told myself I needed to get more sleep; I was imagining things. And I'm sure the brass hasn't had even that much of a hint. Jim, they're just afraid of how the press is going to play this if they get wind of a civilian working this sniper case."

"So he rides without the badge until things cool."

"Everybody expects to see me with Jim. They won't notice no I.D."

"And if he gets hurt?" Simon asked softly.

"That won't happen," Jim answered, grimly.

"There's always been a chance of that, Simon. Why do you think they had me sign fifty million waivers?" Blair said more reasonably.

Simon took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. "Jim, even you can't promise that. It would be my job and yours if we ignore this."

Jim's face had gotten more and more blank; his back more and more rigid. Pulling his badge off, he leaned to put it on Bank's desk. "And it's mine, no matter what."

Two hands, one from either side of the desk, caught his wrist to keep him from dropping the badge.

"Hey, wait, man. You don't have to do this."

"Jim, this won't help."

Voice empty and precise, Jim answered. "This is wrong, Simon. Our case record should put us past any bullshit the idiots upstairs can come up with. And who are they to judge how much research Blair needs? They can't, any more than you can judge how much guidance I need from Blair. Furthermore, putting me out there without him doesn't just endanger me. It puts anyone who is counting on me at risk, too."

By the simple expedient of stepping away, he forced both men to release him. He took off his weapon, leaned in to put it beside the badge. "It's wrong. It's a shitty way to treat Blair after what he's gone through for this department, and it's a shitty way to treat one of their own. It's wrong."

Not giving either of them time to react, he backed away one more step, then turned and left, moving quickly. Blair and Simon exchanged one concerned look, then Blair fled after Jim.
 
 

Stopping by his desk for his backup, Jim marched himself to the elevators, reaching for and holding that blankness of mind the military called 'being at attention.' No thoughts, no feelings, just a goal and his goal was to get to his truck and get to the loft. Fast. Before the freezing dark inside consumed him completely.

Fine tremors were racing through him by the time they peeled out of the station's garage, but if it hadn't been raining, he still might have made it. But, even a Sentinel's vision wasn't up to driving at night at 65 mph through city streets in a downpour. After the third near miss, this one so close Blair stifled a scream, he pulled into the first dark alley he could see.

Hands locked on the steering wheel, he started shaking, hard enough for the truck to quiver slightly on its shocks. //I'm going to lose him now, // he thought wildly. //Without the job, without the thesis to hold him, I'll lose him now. //

Blair insinuated himself between Jim's chest and the steering column, wrapping his arms around Jim's waist as he did. "It'll be ok, we'll think of something. Simon will help us." He murmured, face against Jim's chest, over and over.

Lies, little guide, lies, he thought.

He let himself lay his cheek on the top of Blair's head. That bit of warmth eased him, and, instinctively, he opened himself completely, filling darkness with Blair.

It wasn't enough. Desperate, he pulled Blair into his lap, crushing him to his chest with one arm, using his free hand in Blair's hair to force back his head. Dropping his mouth to Blair's, he plunged in his tongue, stroking his way over and under the pliant, willing occupant. Greedily he went over the familiar, precious ground, trying to taste or touch every bite of it.

Dizzy from lack of breath, he finally pulled away, giving a quick lick to bruised lips as he did. He drank in the sight of Blair's dazed, aroused expression, and lost whatever control he might have had of the situation. Something deep inside broke free, and he felt it roar through him. Relieved, he willingly went with it.

With a sound that might have been a snarl, he attacked the vulnerable line of Blair's throat, licking, biting and sucking until Blair was writhing against him, whimpering. Roughly hiking up Blair's shirts, he targeted the nipples peeking from the curly silk on his chest. He swirled his way from one to the other, relishing the change between smooth, soft skin and springy, tickly hair.

He thought about continuing downward to drink his fill, but Blair hissed, "Fuck me! Jim! Jim, now, fuck me!"

His cock leaped in his jeans. "Hands and knees." he ordered, twisting to put Blair on the seat. Freeing himself from his pants, he moved to his knees, positioning himself behind his lover. Hands shaking, Blair was undoing his pants, and heedless of damage, Jim yanked them down, revealing the pale, smooth bottom, and the tiny opening to Blair's body.

Mindlessly, he touched the puckered entrance with a tentative finger, then drove it in. Not really hearing Blair's yelp, he hesitated; something was needed. Wildly he looked around, then began to fumble in the pocket of Blair's jacket. Reaching around, Blair helped him open the tube he found there, and together they squeezed a good amount of its contents onto Jim's fingers.

Covering his cock with one sweep, he spread what was left into Blair. Then, one hand on Blair's hip for balance, he shoved himself completely in. Oh, hot, so hot, he thought, setting the pace just short of ruthless, driving both of them hard. Moans, flesh hitting flesh, panting - the sounds filled the small area, adding to the pleasure both felt.

Jim felt the inevitable climax beginning to swell inside him. He dredged up the control to stop for a moment, wanting the connection, its sensations, more than he wanted completion. Blair wailed, and tried to impale himself back onto Jim's erection. When Jim wouldn't let him, he reached under himself, taking his hardness in hand, and began to stroke.

"No." Jim caught Blair's hand, pinning it to his chest. With easy strength, he sat back on his heels, taking Blair with him, so that Blair was half sitting, half kneeling astride his lap. Jim clenched his teeth on a scream as he felt his cock plunge more deeply into Blair than he ever had before.

Blair did scream, then tried to reach for his aching cock with his other hand. Easily, Jim caught that one, too. "Just this, babe," he whispered into an ear, thrusting as he did. "Just me. It's all you're going to get tonight; it'd better be enough." He bit the soft area just behind that ear. "And you'd better take it fast. I can't last. You're too good, too hot." Moaning the last words, Jim began to pound into his beloved, reveling in the command he had over Blair's pliant body.

He bit Blair again, hard, on the neck, and moaned, "Take it, Teach." He bit again, on the shoulder. "Takeittakeittakeit..." Orgasm hit both of them, a blinding, deafening explosion that filled the them to the exclusion of anything but ecstasy.

When Jim could focus his eyes again, the truck had begun to grow cold, and he was shivering. Blair was crumpled on top of him, as he lay sprawled, legs stretching the length of the truck. Automatically he sharpened his senses to check on Blair, trying to shrug out of his jacket without dislodging him as he did.

Blair seemed awake, and, though he was beginning to shiver, too, somehow Jim didn't think Blair had become aware of that yet. Feeling an absurdly smug smile blossom, Jim draped his jacket over the smaller man, noticing as he did the large wet spots covering Blair's shirt- front. Oh, well, the jacket needed cleaned, anyway.

Cuddling into the jacket, Blair roused enough to open his eyes and smile back at his lover. Jim smoothed Blair's hair away from his face, smile fading the tiniest bit. "You ok?"

"Wow." Blair answered, succinctly.

Laughing, he replied, "That's an OK?"

"Wow."

Still chuckling, Jim finally gave some attention to their surroundings, quickly checking that no one was near or had noticed what had to be some very wild rocking from the truck. Deciding the rain was so heavy even someone standing next to the truck wouldn't be able to tell who was in it, he dismissed sight, and listened intently. Just rain. He stretched, beginning to really feel the bite of the cold.

The coldness inside him stretched, too, but he resolutely pushed it away. Much as he hated to even think of moving, if he was cold, Blair would be freezing: it was time to get home. Reluctantly he moved to sit up, settling Blair beside him, head on his thigh.

Carefully, he drove the rest of the way to the loft, Blair dozing as he did, one hand resting protectively on the smaller man's shoulder. In the garage, he took a moment to make both of them presentable - from a distance at least - and together they stumbled up and into the loft.

Once Jim had Blair on the bed, he began kissing him, unwilling to surrender either of them to sleep just yet. When Blair's responses went from dreamy compliance to active participation, he backed off, reassuring Blair with gentle touches and strokes as he did. "I want to clean up, first. Wait for me here?"

Clumsily, Blair started to get up, only to be held down with a hand on the chest. "I'll take care of you, too. Just wait, ok?" At Blair's wide-eyed nod, Jim kissed him again, hungrily, then hurried downstairs. In and out of the shower in record time, he brought a small wash basin, a wash cloth, and a towel back up with him.

After putting his burdens on the night-stand, Jim gathered the clothes that Blair had shed and put them into the hamper. Blair had also gotten under the sheets, and had them literally pulled up to his chin. Peering over the edge, he studied Jim, somewhat apprehensively.

Sitting beside him, Jim brushed a finger over Blair's swollen lips, then traced one of the bite marks on his neck. "Hurt?" he asked. At Blair's solemn shake 'no,' he went on. "I must have really mauled you if you're afraid to let me see."

"Jim, I loved it. I mean it. And I bruise really easy. And I've done worse to you, there's just so much more, you know, of you that it doesn't stand out..." Blair's voice trailed off as Jim slowly peeled down the sheet. Bite marks, scratches, and bruises were scattered over Blair's throat and chest, and he knew there were probably many more on his back. He lifted one of Blair's hands, and began to gently lick the bruises on the wrist.

"I. can't. apologize. " he said between licks. Placing a final lick in the center of the palm, he slid down to lay beside Blair. "I loved putting them there, and I love seeing them on you." He bent to lick the finger-shaped bruises coming up on the front of one thigh. "Just. like. I. love. the. ones. you. leave. on. me."

Reaching down, Blair caught Jim by the chin and pulled him up, bringing them face to face. Jim held his gaze calmly, feeling somehow that they had reached one of the crucial moments that would shape their lives together. He made no effort to hide the complete need and love he felt, and tried to say with his eyes whatever it was Blair wanted to know.

Apparently satisfied with what he found, Blair kissed him, still holding him by the chin. It was a strangely chaste kiss, but before he could question it, Blair's tongue began teasing at his lips. Losing his chain of thought, he opened his mouth, welcoming the invader, letting himself get lost in the sweetness.

He started to stroke down Blair's chest, but when he hit a sticky patch, he started to chuckle, and had to pull away. "I did promise to take care of that, didn't I?" Reaching over to the night-stand, he retrieved the soapy wash cloth, and started giving Blair a bed-bath.

"Hmmm," Blair purred, as Jim washed, slowly stretching and arching under Jim's attentions. By the time he was dried, both were erect again, and Jim had become so absorbed in his devotions that the universe consisted only of Blair.

Tossing the towel aside, he trailed his fingers through the hair on Blair's chest, taken with the crinkle of it on the tips. On impulse, he rose so that he was hovering over his partner, and traced a path from nipple to nipple with the tip of his penis. The sensation sent a shudder through him, and he looked into Blair's face to catch his reaction.

Blair regarded him quizzically, then wet his lips with the tip of his tongue, suggestively. Half watching Blair's heavy-lidded expression, half watching himself, he lightly teased both nipples erect, still using his hardness as a tool, then began a path upwards. He ran the head over the contours of Blair's mouth, then pressed on the middle of the pouting lower lip.

At this request for entry, a pink guard darted out and pushed the visitor away. Jim grunted, and pressed more insistently. The gate yielded, hesitantly, and the guard swept over the tip of the invader, as if to determine if it were dangerous. It found itself being chased back into its home, then captured underneath the slow entry and withdrawal of the intruder. Not defeated by any means, it gave battle by sensually massaging the length, encouraging its movements.

As awkward as the position was, Jim continued to move slowly and rhythmically, cupping the back of Blair's head with one hand to bring the incredible heat and suction into better position for fucking. Silently, he still watched his partner as he worked in and out, eyes glittering with lust at the absorbed expression on Blair's face. When he felt himself on the edge of coming, he retreated, cherishing the cry of disappointment Blair made.

Breathing hard, he knee-walked down the bed, then straddled Blair's hips. He set the tip of Blair's cock to his anus, took a few deep breaths, and drove it completely in with one movement.

"JIM!" Blair arched, froze, and began thrusting frenetically.

Going with it, Jim rode his lover, head back, angling his body to take it in as far as he could. "Gawd, oh, gawd. Take it, Chief. Deep, hard, make me taste it when you come."

"Yes, yes, yes..." Blair reached for Jim's cock, but Jim caught his hands for the second time that night. He held them in place on Blair's abdomen.

"Just this, just you." Jim moaned, and put his strength into meeting Blair's strokes.

"Hurry, Pet, hurry," Blair managed through gritted teeth.

"Oh, no," Jim whispered, "no, no, no..." He shook his head in denial, trying to fight off the inevitable, but was unable to stop from speeding up his movements.

It was too much for Blair, and with a howl, he shoved a fraction of a inch deeper, spurting. With a keening sound, Jim followed suit, spilling over his stomach and their joined hands. Somehow he managed to stay upright, though he was trembling with reaction and exhaustion. When his head cleared enough, he collapsed to his side, rolling to take Blair with him.

"I love you," he whispered, "so very much."

Blair nuzzled into Jim's chest. "Love you, too." Suddenly he shuddered, and Jim tightened his arms and legs around him. "Listen to me, Jim. I love you."

"It'll be ok, Blair. I don't know how, but it'll be ok." Wrapped in the warmth he needed, for a little while at least, he could believe his own lies.
 
 

"Damn it, Sandburg," Simon growled as he barreled through the door to the loft, "I spend the night worrying myself into an ulcer over you two, and *you* spend the night like honeymooners!"

"Good morning, Simon. Good to see you, too," Blair murmured, shutting the door behind the Captain. "Would you like some coffee?"

Banks shot him an irritated glare, but nodded his head as he shrugged off his coat. "Phone off the hook, you looking like a hooker in Frisco after the fleet got in, Ellison - where is he anyway?"

"Working out." Blair moved past him, adding as he went, "If I didn't know better, I'd say you were jealous."

Simon kept his peace until Blair rejoined him, handing him a cup of coffee as he settled on the couch. He studied the contents of the mug, then answered. 'I am."

Freezing in the act of raising his mug, Blair shot a panicked look at Banks, then wildly around the room as if looking for escape. Simon laughed much of the tension in his shoulders and face leaving as he did. "Not of you, Blair. Of what the two of you have." Serious again, he went on. "He gave up the most important thing is his life for you. You have to know how much he's hurting."

Blair put his cup down and locked his hands between his knees, leaning on them. "I hurt as bad, for him. There has to be a way around this, Simon."

Sighing, Simon took Jim's badge and gun from a pocket. "Officially, last night didn't happen. Officially, Jim's taking some personal time. And before I go back to the brass and pick a fight, there is something I have to know. How important *is* it for Jim to have you with him, now? It really does look to me like he's got this sentinel thing under control."

Getting up, Blair began pacing around the room, unconsciously taking on his 'teaching' persona. "In a lot of ways, he does. It's become second nature for him to apply whatever sense will do the most good in almost any situation. He can handle focusing in on one of them without a zone."

Stopping in front of Simon, Blair sat on the coffee table, and took a sip of his coffee. "What he needs me for is what all cops count on their partners for - back up. Look, I know outsiders see him taking me for granted. They're *way* wrong. What he's doing is putting total trust in me. He doesn't have to look and see if I'm watching his back. I am. He doesn't have to worry about a zone. I'm there, watching for it. If something unexpected comes up - not with just his senses, Simon - I'm there to help him through it."

Thoughtfully, Simon drank some of his own coffee. Blair let him consider, absentmindedly getting up and pouring a third cup of coffee. He sweetened it the way Jim liked it, trying to think of some other argument that would help them deal with this situation as he did. When he heard the key in the door, he carried the cup with him, handing it to Jim as he came through.

Jim gave him a smile in exchange for the coffee, and a brief touch of thumb to chin in greeting. Blair opened his mouth to bring Jim up to speed on his conversation with Simon when Jim abruptly turned, moving quickly to the captain's side, abandoning his coffee as he did. "Simon! What's wrong!"

Blair followed, understanding Jim's concern at the sight of Simon's face. "Hey, man, easy. Easy. You look like you saw a ghost." He reached to offer support, echoing the gesture Jim was making on the other side.

Shutting his eyes, Simon visibly pulled himself together. "If I hadn't seen it before..." he muttered.

Blair and Jim looked at each other, Jim questioning. Blair just shrugged. "See what, Simon?" Jim asked.

d, forcing both of them to step away. "It's one thing to know you two are together. It's another to see it." Was all he said. He walked into the kitchen and put his cup in the sink, putting an end to the topic. When he turned back, Jim had picked up his shield, and was staring at it as if he didn't recognize it.

"Does this mean Blair rides?" He looked at Banks.

"Are you willing to talk compromise?"

With a classic Ellison jaw tight look, Jim began an answer, stopped as Blair put a hand on the crook of his elbow, and exchanged another look with his partner. "What do you have in mind?" he said finally.

"Look, the problem here is that it's bad enough having this sniper taking pot shots at cops. The press is already having a field day with it saying not being able to protect our own just shows how incompetent we are. Who's going to trust us to take care of them when we can't take care of ourselves?

"If Sandburg gets hit, or if the press notices that a civilian is working with us, it's only going to make matters worse. You have to be able to see that much reason, Jim."

At Jim's reluctant nod, Banks went on. "I ride as your partner during the day, when you have to answer a call. It'll do me good to get out from behind that desk, and away from that damn phone. Brass can play it to the press, too.

"In the evening, you 'unofficially' patrol, with Sandburg, to answer back-up calls for officers. It'll be an edge against the sniper, too, since hopefully you'll be coming up from behind him. You have the best chance of spotting him again, given the range this guy shoots from.

"If something comes down, and we get any heat, you were on your way somewhere with your room mate and heard the call on the scanner."

Both of the other men started to protest, but Banks held up a cautioning hand. "In return, I convince the brass not to pull Blair's observer status. He's at a critical stage and needs to stay at the station on occasion to confirm his data or double check his research or count the number of doughnuts in the cafeteria. Something. OK? But he *stays* at the station when a call comes in."

Blair grinned and bounced on the balls of his feet. "And you've got the prefect motivation to get your best man behind finding this sniper *right now!* Great, Simon!"

"That's why they pay me the big bucks," Banks answered dryly.

Jim glared at both of them. "You're both forgetting something. *I* haven't agreed to this."

"You don't trust Simon?" Blair asked innocently.

"Of course I do!"

"You like having Sandburg out there with some nut shooting at anybody acting like a cop?"

"Of course not!"

"Well, what's the problem?" Simon and Blair chorused.

Looking at both of them in disgust, Jim snorted. "What, you two rehearse this? Let's do some male bonding slash bullshitting and railroad Jim into our plan?"

"Hey, no way." Blair protested. "Simon knows how well I can do improv. He fed me my lines and let me run."

Jim snorted, but offered Banks his hand. "I owe you one for this."

"Oh, you'll pay," Simon assured him. "Next time I need a really dirty job done, I'll know exactly whose going to 'volunteer,' right?" He laughed at Jim's pained expression, and at Blair's enthusiastic yes! yes! victory dance.

Jim caught the dance out of the corner of his eye, and started laughing, too. Blair joined in, throwing himself at Jim and giving him a hug.

Simon watched, then began to make 'have to leave now' motions, picking up his coat, and taking out his keys. Jim broke away from Blair and followed Simon to the door. "Simon, considering how much I owe you, I hate to ask for a favor..."

"Which isn't going to stop you," he interrupted.

Jim flushed a bit, embarrassed, but finished. "Do you think you could find out why now of all times they noticed Sandburg? Two years, some high profile cases, like that kidnapping, not a word. Suddenly, he's a risk, because of the sniper?"

"Oh, man," Simon moaned in despair. "The wonderful thing about paranoia is that you can't afford to be wrong *this time,* no matter how many times you've been wrong before."

"Name the last time I was wrong," Jim replied, tightly.

It was Simon's turn to look pained.
 
 

"No way, Joel," Blair blurted. "You *didn't* answer her honestly."

Taggart looked mournfully at him. "What can I say? We'd just finished, I was lying there in a melted puddle, hardly able to talk, let alone lie. Come on, Sandburg. How do I get out of this?"

The two of them walked into the squad room, heading toward the Captain's office. "I don't know, man. How good are your groveling skills?" If possible, Taggart's face grew more mournful. "Thought so. Look, it kinda de...."

Blair's voice faded away, and he abruptly halted. Taggart actually walked away, before realizing that he had lost his companion and turning around. "Sandburg?"

A trickle of blood began to creep from one nostril, but, face expressionless Blair made no sign of noticing it.

"Sandburg?" Joel grabbed the smaller man by the arms and gave him a shake. "Blair!" When there was no response, he turned to one of the uniforms who had stopped to see what was going on. "911, now! I think he's having a seizure." Blair began to collapse, and Taggart caught him, helping him to the ground.

"All right, everybody. You're cops. You know better than to hang around when there's an emergency. Clear! Now!" Banks knelt beside the two of them, fingers at Blair's throat to check the pulse.

To their surprise, Blair caught the hand before it could touch him, and focused on Banks. "Where's Jim?" he demanded and tried to sit up.

Holding him down, Banks reassured him. "On his way. He can meet us at the hospital."

"No." Blair struggled with them. "He's in trouble. Something's happened." He managed to get into a sitting position, and caught Banks by the front of his shirt. "Simon. Where is Jim?" He spoke slowly, trying to convince Simon he wasn't hysterical.

Sitting back on his heels, Banks studied him for a minute, then reached to pick up the phone on the nearest desk. Dialing in Jim's cell number, he waited, handing Sandburg a handkerchief for the blood as he did. When there was no answer, he dialed dispatch. "Banks. What's the location of Detective Ellison? Multi-car at I73? Is there a black and white at the scene? Patch me."

Blair jumped to his feet, wild-eyed, but Banks held him by the arm, coming to his feet as well, to keep him from running. By this time Taggart was standing, shooing away anyone who got too close. "Captain Banks, Major Crime. What's going on there?" Listening intently, Banks let Blair go, but made it clear with his eyes he expected the young man to stay put. One hand over the phone, he reported, "Loaded school bus, tractor trailer, fire, three or four other cars. Jim was first on the scene, started helping kids off the bus."

"Sniper?" Taggart asked.

Shaking his head, Simon kept listening. "There's something going on - I can hear Jim in the background..." Banks pulled the phone away from his ear, stared at it, then hung it up. " Taggart, get down to dispatch. Find out exactly what's happening and contact me. Come on, Sandburg. I'll drive."

Blair braced himself on the dashboard and door, not even hearing the squeal as Banks took the corner too fast. "Simon, man, thanks for believing me."

Sparing Sandburg a glance, Simon accelerated again. "I didn't have much choice." At Blair's confused expression, he muttered an obscenity. "You two don't even know, do you?"

"What?" Blair asked in exasperation.

"Sandburg, from your point of view, what happened the day Jim spotted the sniper?"

"What does..."

"Just answer."

Mentally scrambling, Blair forced his thoughts back to the robbery arrest at a convenience store that he and Jim had gone to as backup a few weeks earlier. "Jim got out of the truck, started scanning - we'd talked about it earlier, and he was listening for the sound of the rifle bolt being pulled back. I was in front of him, checking the roofs. If he didn't hear anything, we were going to try pinpointing the best place for a shooter. He pulled his gun, brought it up, I dropped because I was in his line of sight, bang, bang, he's on one knee just in front of me, yelling the location of the shooter, you, him, and two or three other guys take off. I wait a few more minutes to make sure there's not going to be any more bullets, get up and spend the next ten minutes trying to decide if I can get the oil I fell into off my favorite leather jacket.

"And what has any of that got to do with anything?" Blair's voice had gotten more pissed sounding with each sentence.

"Blair, how did you know Jim had drawn his weapon and that you were in his way?" Banks asked very, very quietly.

There was a long pause. "I must have seen him."

"I was there. He was behind you. He didn't say, anything, either." When Blair didn't reply to that, Simon went on. "The other day in the loft. Do you remember giving Jim a cup of coffee at the door? How did you know to pour it? Unless you've developed his hearing, you had no way of knowing he was on his way into the loft."

Blair's eyes had grown wider and wider as Simon spoke, and he pulled his knees up to his chin and locked his arms around them. He rested his head against them, eyes closed. "I can't think about this, right now, Simon. It's.. I..." He went very still, letting the seat belt hold him against the motions of the vehicle. "Are we going to the accident site?" He suddenly asked.

"Yeah." Automatically Banks began to slow.

"I think we should head for whichever hospital is closest to it."

"Sonovabitch!" Banks cell went off, but he negotiated the change in direction before answering it. "Banks." After a few minutes, he folded the phone, putting it in a pocket. "Your partner has lost his mind, Sandburg, literally. He'd gotten all the kids off the bus, was going back to get the driver, instead began screaming and hitting the bus with his fists. Couple of firemen ran over to help and he started swinging. Took five men to bring him down."

"Shit, shit, shit. They sedate him?"

"Tried, apparently. Blair, they had to strap him down."

Despite claiming he couldn't think about it, all Blair *could* think about was what Simon had said. And what had happened the night Jim had tried to quit the force. At the time, he had considered himself one of the luckiest people in the world for having a sexual fantasy happen without needing to tell his partner what he wanted. Jim had even known what words he needed to hear.

Except it had been more than wish fulfillment. What he had thought he wanted was Jim to be out of control, to be rough. What he had needed - and gotten - was past the last of Jim's barriers. He had taken his naked heart and put in Blair's hands, telling him that he wanted to mark and be marked; each belonging to the other for anyone to see. He couldn't have felt more committed to Jim at that moment if they had been standing in front of a judge with rings to exchange.

Since then he had felt what, happier? Serene? Despite not being able to follow their normal routine the two of them had fit as well as they always had. They fit too well, eerily well, and had for some time, according to Simon. If that was true, he was right about something else, too. They hadn't noticed. They hadn't noticed because it felt right.

He didn't feel any different, now. There wasn't a voice in his head telling him to find Jim; he hadn't had a vision. What he knew was that he was freezing cold inside, like he was watching Jim walk into a shoot-out blind and unarmed.

"I'm coming. Whatever's wrong, I'll be there. Wait for me. Hold on. Wait for me. Hang on, Jim," he muttered the last words out loud, not aware of the prayerful tone of his voice.

"Amen." Simon seconded, and he tried to get more speed out of the car.

Blair remained withdrawn, chanting 'hang on, hang on,' like a mantra. When Simon pulled in at the hospital, he was out and moving before the car stopped completely. Trusting the PD plates to keep it from getting towed, Simon left it where it was and ran after him. He barely made the elevator Blair jumped into, after he had stopped briefly at the front desk.

"Hurry, hurry." Blair pounded a wall. "He's in psychiatric," he told Simon, not really paying attention to the other man. At the door to the ward, Simon pulled his badge to get through the door without a long explanation. They had to wait for a doctor; the orderly refused to even tell them the room Jim was in without authorization. Barely containing his impatience, Blair tried to sneak a peek at the charts behind the desk, only to be stopped by one of the duty nurses. Turning on the charm, he managed to coax the room number out of her before the doctor came, clearing his throat in noisy disapproval.

Simon stepped in front of him before Blair could say anything. Flashing his badge again, he identified himself. "Captain Simon Banks, Detective Ellison's commander. This is Blair Sandburg, his partner. We'd like to see him, please."

"I'm afraid that isn't possible, Captain," the doctor said off-handedly, looking over the chart. "Your officer is extremely violent right now, and hospital policy is family only, if that. He'll be coming down off the steroids in a few hours, and will calm down. Maybe then."

"STEROIDS!" Blair and Simon bellowed.

"No way," Blair went on. "He wouldn't touch that poison. Damn it Simon, he wouldn't even take cold medicine right now, and you know why."

"Dr," Simon looked at the man coldly, pointedly, then insolently plucked up the man's i.d. to check for his name when he didn't volunteer it. "Wells. Have you got evidence backing up that accusation?"

Mild uncertainty crossed the Well's face. "It's really a rather classic case," he said, somewhat haughtily. "Older man, obviously into body building, body conscious, job with extreme physical demands. Tension filled situation, and the hormone levels soar out of sight... really, Captain, you should be doing screenings at the department."

Banks grew murderous, but Blair moved between them. "If Jim is out of control, wouldn't having someone he trusts with him be a benefit? Keep him from hurting himself?" Blair wasn't going to waste time arguing diagnosis. He had to get to Jim.

In front of his eyes, the doctor grew more arrogant. "He wouldn't even recognize you. The restraints will prevent him from harming himself or anyone else. And really, you wouldn't want to see him right now, and he wouldn't want you there. He's more animal than human."

"I'm his partner." Blair said, tightly. "He'll want me there. I *can* help."

"Unless you're family, neither of you can go in." Wells resorted to repeating himself.

Blair began clenching and unclenching his fists, and put himself in the doctor's face. "If I can't go in, I want proof from you that your diagnosis is correct. Where's the blood work? Has a regular physician seen him and agreed on your evaluation? How about a search? Were drugs found on him?"

Sputtering, the doctor began backing away. He turned to Banks, trying to dismiss Sandburg. "Really, Captain. How dare you let your officer question..."

Simon took up where Blair left off, "I agree with my man, *doctor*" He was plainly contemptuous of the physician. "You might know your medicine, but I know Ellison. I'm asking again, where's your evidence?"

Plainly outraged, the doctor began to defend himself to a rock-hard Banks. Out of the corner of his eye, Simon saw Blair move away, and he planned to keep the whole floor busy if he had could, to give the young man a chance.

Forgetting about the altercation behind him, Blair moved as quickly and unobtrusively as he could down the hall. Relaxing somewhat as he turned a corner, out of sight of the desk, he read room numbers, looking for the one the nurse said Jim was in. He turned another corner, and saw an orderly coming out of a room, keys in hand. Putting on his most "professorial" manner, he approached the man, holding out his I.D., thumb obscuring part of it.

"Dr. Sandburg, Cascade PD. You have one of my men here?"

"You mean the maniac in 5? Man I hope he *never* pulls me over for speeding. He's had enough meds to put down an elephant, and it still takes five of us to get a blood from him." Automatically the orderly walked down to the right room and began unlocking the door. "You need me to stay, just in case?"

"We only need observation on him, for our records. I'll sit in a corner, watch him fight the aliens or bugs or whatever's got him going for a few minutes, then get the hell out and back to my place. I've got plans this evening," Stomach squirming from the incoherent screams issuing from the padded room, Blair barely managed the proper inflections on the last words to get the orderly to laugh knowingly.

"Dr. Wells will be here a few minutes with another officer. You don't need to wait. Got plans yourself?" Blair went on, nonchalantly slipping through the door.

"Don't I wish. Here til midnight. Give a holler if he decides you're one of his aliens or whatever, Dr. Sandburg." So saying, he shut the door, leaving Blair alone with Jim.

"Man, I thought these things were strictly Hollywood drama stuff," he said, looking around and finding Jim easily in the white empty room. Swallowing hard, he crept toward his lover, not wanting to stress him by coming seemingly out of nowhere.

He wasn't even sure he could get through to Jim. The big man was sitting in one corner, backing himself into it as if trying to become part of the wall. Eyes closed, head hanging to his chest, he would alternately fight the straitjacket holding him, screaming, and pant, banging his whole body into the wall. Barefoot, he couldn't get much purchase for his efforts, and he kept sliding down and forcing himself back up.

Unable to stop the tears, Blair began whispering, "Shh, shh, it's me, Big Guy. It's ok, shh, shh." Acting on impulse, he took off his jacket, and sitting cross-legged a few feet away, tossed it so that it landed on Jim's upraised knees. On the next cycle of panting, Jim stilled, then buried his face in the fabric. Blair wriggled closer, still crooning.

The screams didn't restart, and the panting steadied, punctuated with pain-filled moans. Blair sidled up to him, not quite touching, so that they were sitting side-by-side.

"Chief?" The hoarse voice was barely recognizable as Jim's.

"I'm here, I'm here." Stubbornly, Blair forced away the tears, making his voice steady.

"Hurts, Babe. Hurts." Jim began moaning, again.

Carefully, Blair pulled him to his side, so that his head was resting in his lap. "Where, Jim? What hurts?"

Unable to answer, Jim's cries began to build, his entire body shaking. Helplessly, Blair patted his head, then yanked his hand away, staring at it. There was an oily residue, and he rubbed his fingers together, sniffing experimentally. "Tanker. Simon said there was a tanker and a fire. Chemicals from it?"

He bent over the man in his lap, pulling away the straight jacket from Jim's neck. Underneath the jacket, Jim was still wearing his shirt, and checking, Blair found more of the residue. Looking closer, he saw that the skin under the shirt was reddened, even beginning to blister in places. "Man, oh, man." Frantically, Blair began to undo the buckles and velcro of the jacket.

"Officer Sandburg, what do you think you're doing?" Wells demanded as he and Banks came through the door, orderlies behind him.

"Simon, what was that tanker carrying?" Blair didn't even look up from pulling the jacket off Jim.

"Officer Sandburg!" Wells gestured to the orderlies. "Stop him you idiots, before he lets that man free. Or do you think the two of you are enough to put him back in it?"

Stepping in front of the partners, Banks made as if to draw his weapon. "I don't think that's necessary, gentleman. Sandburg has matters in hand." Uneasy, the orderlies hesitated, which gave Blair enough time to rip Jim's shirt off and throw one of the fragments at the doctor.

"That shirt is soaked with something. Look at his skin; he's having some sort of weird allergic reaction to it. We need to wash him off with distilled water, lots of it. Where's the nearest shower?"

Banks took the rag from the doctor and sniffed it, still keeping an eye on the orderlies. "Do you have someone specializing in toxins and poisons on the staff?"

The indignant rage was fading slowly from the doctor's expression, to be replaced by one of concern. "I.. no one else from the accident reported any symptoms." He took the rag and examined it himself.

"Detective Ellison has a history of chemical sensitivity." Blair told him, working Jim's pants down as he did. "Good, the heavier denim gave a bit more protection. No blisters, yet."

Surrendering, Wells motioned to the waiting men. "Help him with Detective Ellison. Get distilled water from the nurses station." He turned to Banks. "I'll call downstairs and see who's on duty."

As Wells left, the two orderlies warily approached where Jim was lying. Blair took Jim's face between his hands, and spoke low, urgently, as if guiding him. "Listen to me, Big Guy. There are a couple of guys here that are going to give us a hand, ok? You're too big for me to handle by myself, no news there, right? Ready?"

Blair nodded to the waiting men, and though Jim shook, he didn't fight during the process of getting him into the shower, seated on the bench, and rinsed off. Finally he rewarded Blair's steady stream of reassurances and instructions with a half smile/half grimace. "Chief, what the hell happened?"

"Jim are you really with us, here?"

"Unless this is an hallucination, yeah."

"Can you tell me exactly what's going on with you? The doctors need to know."

"I feel like I was dipped in fire. Eyes, nose, throat, mouth, skin - it's all burning. Not so bad now, 'cept for the eyes. And this incredibly awful taste in my mouth."

"Eyes - I didn't even think of your eyes." Quickly Blair opened a bottle of water and tilted Jim's head back, pouring the water directly into his eyes. "Better?"

"Mmm," he answered with relief. A moment later, he added, "I don't hear anybody nearby."

"Simon is with the doctors, dealing with the paperwork, and trying to find out more about that tanker. Our helpers are making another water run. The only places around here with enough pure water are in the burn unit and labs, and we didn't want to wait to transport you there. I'm going to pat your face dry, and you tell me if you think you need more."

"Wait, there's something I need to do first. Open your mouth for me, babe."

"Open? ..mmm" Unerringly Jim found Blair's lips with his own, catching Blair by the back of the head to pull him down close enough. The kiss was so slight as to almost be illusionary, but Jim's tongue dipped in to tag it's counterpart, and he gave a satisfied murmur as he did.

"Gawd. Much, much better." He said, letting Blair go. "Even the onions you had with the tuna is better than the taste I had."

"And here I thought you were trying to start something."

"What did you have in mind, Chief?" Jim waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Laughing, Blair patted Jim's face dry. "Now I know you're feeling better." He slowed, then paused, thinking. No, I'm the one feeling better; you did that to comfort *me.* You look like you've been catching some rays in Death Valley, and you're still taking care of me. You gave me what I needed. I wouldn't have even noticed, either, if Simon hadn't made me overly-sensitive to it.

"Babe?"

Filing it under 'later, much later,' he finished drying Jim's hair, refusing to pay attention to the fact that his hands were shaking. "Just trying to figure out how to get you out of here before they decide to make you their favorite test subject."
 
 

"Jim, this isn't working." Blair sighed and turned to his side in the bed to face his lover.

"I'm not doing it on purpose," Jim mumbled back. "I can't get comfortable. This is worse than any burn I've ever had, and I can't concentrate long enough to get the dial turned down."

Hesitantly, Blair put a fingertip in the hollow of Jim's throat, one of the few places that escaped hurt. "Hey, I know. But every time I move, it hurts you. I can't touch you, I can't even kiss you!"

Jim turned his head away from Blair, hiding his features. "And I'm keeping you awake with all my grumbling."

"Sleep, what's sleep? That's the motto of grad students the world round. That's *really* not what's going on here, Jim."

Wanting to turn his back on Blair, but unable to move without causing himself more grief, Jim somehow found the control to say evenly. "Maybe you should sleep in your old room for a few days." Please say no, Chief, please say no.

"It might be a good idea. That way when you do drift off, I won't yank you out of it by rolling over or something. I'll stay until you get sleepy, if you like."

"Jeez, Sandburg, why don't you offer to check the closet for monsters, too." Ok, so he sounded petulant.

"Right after your bedtime story." Blair laughed.

Unwillingly, Jim smiled, grumping when he did because it hurt. "Maybe you can tell me your version of what happened at the station that day. Five different people have told me five different stories about the 'Amazing Sandburg, sees all, tells all.' Blair, what's wrong?"

"You know, Ellison, sometimes you're a real pain in the ass!"

"What? What?! Your heartbeat spikes, you break out in a sweat, and anyone could see how white you just got. You expect me to ignore it!!?"

"Maybe for politeness sake, you should learn there are times when people don't want you calling attention to the fact they're human!"

Jim locked his teeth together so fast he almost bit his tongue. "Blair, if you don't want to sleep with me, you don't have to pick a fight to do it," he ground out between them.

"I am *not* picking a fight!" Jim didn't say anything; he let the ringing of the loft from Blair's shout speak for itself. Blair tried to out wait him, but after a few painful minutes admitted, "Maybe I am trying to divert you. I *really* don't want to talk about the thing at the station." He sat up on the edge of the bed, back to his partner. "You can't believe how out there I am from it. It's something you're supposed to read about, or know the friend of a friend that it happened to. It's not supposed to happen to you."

Forgetful of his pain, Jim reached to comfort Blair, only to have him move out of reach before he could touch. He cried out, softly, but Blair heard him and looked back, pulling on his pants as he did. "Man, I'm sorry, I should have warned you before moving. Look, you can't rest with me up here, and I need some space, right now, OK? In another hour or so, if you're still hurting, we can try a different med from the ones they gave us."

He put a kiss in the general direction of Jim's forehead, careful not to jostle the bed. "Sleep well."

Jaw still tight, Jim didn't reply, and watched him go downstairs. "God, oh, God, I'm watching Blair fade away from me like green before the frost, and there's not a fucking thing I can do about it. Maybe, he thought to himself, as the cold inside him dropped a few more degrees, if I quit fighting it, I'll freeze all the way to my skin, and we won't have to worry about more painkillers. For any reason. Shutting his eyes, wishing he knew how to cry, he willingly went with the pain covering his skin.
 
 
 

Each day after that, Jim was more cold and distant, not only with Blair at home, but with his co-workers when he returned to the station. He heard the comments and saw the worry, especially Simon's, but couldn't find the strength to care. The growing cold brought a blessed numbness, and all he wanted was to be able to get through the day and do the job.

A few times Blair made passes at him, but Jim fended them off gently, making Blair laugh when he could. Still lost in his own head, Blair didn't notice it, or that Jim never touched him if he could avoid it. He did miss sleeping with his lover, but, without thinking about it, he was waiting for Jim to invite him back upstairs.

It was only at night, listening to Blair's heartbeat and breathing, that Jim would let himself miss what they had had. Hating himself, he recognized what he was becoming again, as Carolyn would have if she'd been there. Like then, cold and dark was easier to deal with than pain. Life was easier, too. He had lived this way before and he could again. He just wasn't sure there was any reason to.

And, like before, it made him a frighteningly efficient cop. Conceding that Jim was the best chance they had to get the sniper, Simon reluctantly agreed to let him try to make as many crime scenes as he could. If the other officers had compared notes, they might have been astounded at how often he succeeded.

After almost ten days and two more incidents, he got the break they had all been working toward. Circling the address of the call, looking for vantage points, he thought he saw movement. He pulled over the truck, telling Banks where he had spotted it. Getting out and walking away a few paces, he dismissed the sound of Banks calling it in, giving his location.

Only to have it bounce from the direction of the shooter. Piggy-backing sight and sound, he pinpointed him - her, he realized. She was carrying a scanner, apparently to fix on calls and locations. As he watched, she swung around, bringing up the rifle and aiming it - at him. Detached, unconcerned, he calculated the shot and admired her precision: dead center of his forehead. Less than 10 seconds after getting his whereabouts, too. Must know the area really well; they'd been checking out that angle. She was getting ready to squeeze the trigger; good rifle, professional marksman model.

She fired; wind must've pulled it high, he mused. Without conscious decision, he would have stood there for the next shot if Banks hadn't tackled him, as the next bullet went through where his head had been. Oh, damn, he thought wearily.

"Ellison!" Banks shouted as they went down. "Jim! Damn it, how does Blair pull you out of these things?"

Shocked into reacting, Jim used their momentum to roll until Banks was under him, protecting him from the third shot. When no third shot came, he lifted his head to try and find her again. Not bothering to correct Simon's assumption he had zoned, he said, "She's changing her pattern. Usually she fires three shots."

Cautiously, now, he stood, giving Banks a hand-up. "She?" Banks asked.

"Yeah, young, Caucasian, brunette, wearing shades, carrying a SigSaur Hunter deluxe, probably .308. Might be something there; those aren't common and female sharpshooters aren't, either." Inwardly, he was calling himself every obscenity he could think of for endangering Simon, but his voice was even, vacant.

Later, when Banks praised him to the squad, he accepted it in a shrugging manner, guilt breaking through the ice enough to make him unwilling to acknowledge the compliment. Simon pulled him into his office afterwards, and he expected a dressing down for his so-called zone out.

To his surprise, Simon gave him the information he had asked for what seemed years ago: the name of the person who wanted to break up his partnership. Amazingly, Simon didn't hear the crack as all his frozen emotions were freed by the anger burning through every iota of the detachment he had had. Wild feelings surged through him, and he groped to find one that he could survive. Staggering, steadied by Simon, he sat down heavily, as understanding managed to come to the front.

"Makes sense, doesn't it?" he mumbled.

"Jim, it doesn't make it right."

The man who turned up his face to Simon Banks was a destroyed one, and Simon had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop the cry of pain he felt for him. "It's the one fight I can't win, the one that I shouldn't even try to win."

"Ellison, you listen to me like I'm a god and you're trying not to get fried!"

"Sure," Jim said, dully.

"What you and Blair share is stronger than even this. All you have to do is go to him, tell him what you know, and decide to work together. Trust me!"

For a second he almost broke down and told Simon everything. Someone banged on the door to get his attention, Simon looked away to wave them off irritably, and the chance was lost. Jim stood, pulling the fragments of his control into place. "Thank you, sir." He produced a weak smile. "I think I'm beginning to get a phobia or something about coming in here. You're always saying what I'd rather not hear."

"With your hearing, I could always stay in here and leave you at your desk. That way, everybody could be treated to your wonderful charm and good-natured acceptance of bad news, not just me.

Six hours and eight bars later, Jim crept into the loft, still sober enough to stay quiet. Unable to face going to his empty bed, he went to the door of Blair's room, and leaned there. He opened all his senses as wide as he dared, trying to make a snack do when he needed a meal.

Deeply asleep, probably under a ton of blankets, he decided the beginnings of a true smile on his lips. Blair claimed the only time he was warm enough was when they were tangled together. He'd had to dig him out of his burrow after a late night, more than once.

Acting on its own, his hand silently opened the door, and Jim sharpened his vision. Only Blair's curls were visible, and Jim's smile broadened. Cat-footed, he entered, and knelt by the bedside. Patiently he pulled away the blankets from Blair's face, enjoying the blossoming of scent and warmth that resulted.

He bent closer, to inhale that, and risked feathering a kiss over relaxed lips. When Blair didn't stir, he tried a deeper kiss, letting it go until he felt a change in Blair's sleep. Immediately he backed off, waiting until Blair went back under, then un-wrapped him a bit more. By bits and pieces, he worked, stopping when there was the slightest sign of waking. Eventually, he had a nude Blair, who was curled into an almost fetal position, to adore with his eyes.

Wanting more, he considered what to do next. One of Blair's hands was resting next to his chin. Using tongue tip, Jim traveled over the knuckles and nails, coaxing the hand open. It unfolded gracefully; he filled it with a kiss. With the same technique, he gradually, carefully, brought Blair into a abandoned sprawl.

Knowing he should stop, but too far gone to be able to, Jim licked and nibbled, always, *always* holding back if Blair began to wake. He scrapped his teeth over the shadow of beard on Blair's jaw line, bit the pulse point, nipped ears. Hiding his face in the curve of shoulder and neck, his hands trailed over arms, sides, chest, stomach, hips.

He cupped the lax genitals, rolling the sack between palm and fingertips. At Blair's sighing moan, he paused, waiting, and the penis began to fill, though Blair didn't stir.

This is the same as rape, he told himself, but it didn't make a difference. He had to go on. This one time Blair was going to be all his: no past, no present, no future. He was going to have anything he wanted, any way he wanted it from this beautiful body with not even Blair to say no. Black fire scorched him, and he barely stifled the moan of want. He had been erect for ages, and his hips began to grind on the mattress for relief.

Keeping Blair asleep was part of the pleasure; it was no problem guarding against it. With many starts and stops he brought Blair to full hardness, suckling on his nipples as he did. Sometimes Blair would make tiny noises of pleasure, driving Jim to the edge of sanity. Finally, perched over Blair on his hands and knees, not touching except for the hand filled with Blair's cock, he reached his limit. Anything I want, any way I want it, he promised himself again.

He crawled to the foot of the bed, and, hunched half on and half off, took Blair into his mouth. Petting himself through his jeans, he sucked, taking Blair as far into his throat as he could. Blair began a minute thrusting motion, dreamy in it's speed, and Jim went with it. Utterly delectable, utterly consuming - he lost himself in taste, scent, sound, motion.

With a blurred, "Oh!" Blair came, and Jim greedily drank, viciously rubbing at his own cock. He yanked his head away, bit the mattress, and killed the scream in his throat as he followed suit. Panting harshly, he crumbled on the floor, head spinning.

Reason returned much too soon. The black heat he had felt earlier became self-loathing, shame and guilt. His gut turned, and for moment, he thought he would be sick.

"Babe?" Blair asked, sleepy, confused, not really awake.

Galvanized, he hurriedly gathered the blankets and began tucking Blair back into them. Though he would have excused himself as just wanting to say goodnight, he didn't need to. Eased by the familiar feeling of being cosseted, Blair smiled sweetly, and dropped back into deep sleep.

Like a shard of ice in a super-cooled liquid, that smile crystallized the cold Jim had been battling for so very, very long. The last of the heat and light leached away, leaving behind a man made of hard emptiness. Hopelessly, he held onto a sliver of his life, barely long enough to place an innocent kiss on his beloved's lips.

"Thank you, Blair," he whispered. "Not everyone gets a chance to love like we did. You'll never know what a gift it was, to me."
 
 

It took three days to get everything in place. Several times, over the years, he had been solicited by various government agencies - some not found anywhere but in need-to-know files. A couple had wanted him to work undercover, permanently, in assignments ranging from almost impossible to suicidal. He chose the one that seemed would do the most good if he had even partial success.

They were more than willing to help him disappear.

A lawyer drew up the papers that would allow Blair to get the loft and his assets. Though he couldn't ask, he knew that Simon would be there while Blair got over him. Being busy would be good, too, so he insisted that his new 'employers' arrange for Sandburg to be approached by prestigious university. It was backing a special anthropology project involving long months of travel, and Blair was more than qualified for it. There wouldn't be any questions about his invitation.

He would have to abandon his sentinel research, at least for the time being. Maybe when he got back from his travels he would be able to use what he had in some form. That troubled him as much as anything could, but nothing really touched him.

By his last night in Cascade, even Sandburg was beginning to notice the changes in him. Disregarding the assessing looks Blair gave when he thought he could get away with it, Jim went on as routinely as possible. It's important, he told himself over and over, that nothing look suspicious.

Despite the danger that was why he let himself be coaxed into an evening at home to watch a game on the tube. Pretending intense interest in the playing, he was able to avoid Blair's attempts to cuddle or get affectionate. Prickles of unease touched; he wasn't sure that he could endure a blatant move for sex. Giving the TV enough attention to pass muster, he began to work on an escape.

The ringing of the phone was heaven sent, from his point of view. Nudging with an elbow, he got Sandburg to answer.

"Mom!" Blair said with surprise and delight.

Inwardly, Jim nodded to himself. It hadn't taken long. The Scene Sniper case had been cracked only this morning. Thanks to an "anonymous" description, a sharp-eyed uniform noticed a woman matching it carrying a musical instrument case toward an empty building. Tracy Lee Coswell was busted in the act of pulling the trigger.

Daughter of a deceased officer, Ms. Coswell had a long history of mental illness, along with her closet full of sharp-shooting awards. In her twisted mind, she was helping the force by making them put more men on duty. Apparently her father had died because back-up hadn't been available, and he chose to go in, anyway.

Prosecution would probably go easy on her, he mused. Though she had hit a number of men (they wouldn't take me seriously if no one got hurt), there hadn't been any fatalities. "I only *wanted* to kill one," she had claimed. "The weird one who kept looking at me."

Jim had stifled a sarcastic laugh when he heard that on the news. Sorry, lady, lost your chance.

He wouldn't be the only one listening to the news, either. Without the excuse of the sniper, Blair - being Blair - would be agitating to get things back to normal. Without the higher-ups to intervene, Naomi would have to deal with getting him out of the precinct herself. Jim had had no doubt that they would hear from her, soon.

"No, Mom. No I don't see why not."

Jim brought himself back to the conversation at hand. "Tell her, no problem."

"Even Jim says no problem. See you in a couple of hours? Love you, too." Blair hung up and turned to his roommate. "Jim are you sure? I mean, it'll only be for a couple of days, but ..."

"No buts, Chief." Jim picked his words very, very carefully. He wanted Naomi here for Blair, but didn't want his answer to be out of character. "Blair are *you* all right with it? " He laid an arm over the back of the couch, close enough that Blair would take it as an arm around him. "I mean..."

Blair found his hands very interesting all of a sudden, and didn't meet Jim's eyes. "She's my mother, man!"

"And one of the most tolerant, open-minded people I know."

Smiling a little, Blair nodded. "Yeah. One of the most protective, too."

No shit, Chief. "You think she's going to have trouble with *us.*"

"I don't know, I don't know!" Blair jumped up and restlessly began tidy. She shouldn't, but she's my *mother.*"

Jim joined in on the last three words, making both of them laugh.

"Seriously, I want to tell her, not have her find out when I kiss her good night, then go upstairs and make wild, noisy love with you."

Jim's stomach began to hurt. Oh, I wish, babe. "I said no problem, and I meant it, Chief. We'll use the same arrangements we did last time she was here. When and if you decided differently.." Not wanting to even imply promises, Jim shrugged. "I better pick up some groceries. It'll give you a chance to do a run through the loft and remove any incriminating evidence," he grinned lecherously, "and a chance to talk to her privately, for a while."

Standing, he started to leave, unconsciously detouring around Blair to do so. He didn't look back, didn't see Blair hug himself tightly and shiver, staring after him.
 
 

Next morning, Jim stopped by the couch, stealing a few moments to say good bye. It would be safe; he wouldn't be tempted with Naomi only a door away. Kneeling on the floor, he traced Blair's sleeping features with the lightest of touches, as he had many times before.

I know this is going to hurt, babe, he thought, but ripping the bandage off is faster and less painful than peeling it off a day at a time. I know; I went through it with Carolyn. In a few months some pretty co-ed will crawl into bed with you, and it won't be so bad anymore. A year from now you'll chalk it all up to some sort of delayed adolescent experimentation.

Even with chaperonage, he didn't dare risk a kiss, but he did lean close and inhale deeply, trying to fill himself with the scent, hoping it would give him the will to do what needed to be done. He lingered, but the phone rang, waking Blair.

Answering it, he turned it over to his room mate, and went upstairs to pack a few things. When he came back down, Blair was pulling on his clothes, muttering under his breath about inconsiderate advisors. His new one needed him to sub a class, and was delivering the notes required for it. "He was on his car phone, Jim, on the way here. I'll go downstairs and wait there, so he won't wake Naomi."

"I'll make breakfast for you. Toast and tea, or omelets?"

"Toast," Blair answered, on his way out the door, smiling a thank you to him.

Good. He could hear Naomi stirring. With Blair out, there were a few things he wanted to say to her, and he was actually looking forward to seeing her reaction when he did.

Going into the kitchen, he set up the coffee maker, put the teakettle on and bread in the toaster, moving efficiently in the small space. By the time Naomi came to lean against the divider, he was able to hand her a cup of herbal tea.

"Good morning. Sleep well?" he asked cheerfully.

"Umm," was her non-committal response.

Picking up a piece of toast, he began to cover it with fruit spread. "I've got the day off - comp time for all the doubles I've put in the last few weeks. Thought I'd head down to my favorite spot and catch a few waves. Storm out in the Pacific should be whipping up some real big ones. Want to come? Or do you and Blair have plans?"

"You are *really* into that aren't you?"

Shrugging, he held up a slice, wordlessly asking Naomi if she wanted some. She answered by pushing one of the jars of spread over to him. "It was love at first try for me," he replied, smiling.

Picking up his breakfast, he sat at the table, Naomi following slowly, munching on her toast. "Is the danger in surfing the attraction for you? Adrenaline high and all that?"

Pretending to give it serious though, Jim said slowly, "No. For me, it's the freedom. You have no idea how close it is to flying; closer, I think, than parachuting, cause when you jump, you're just falling. Balancing on your stick, the wave carrying you high and fast - it's what a bird must feel, riding on air currents."

"It's the freedom." Naomi gave a laugh, and Jim wondered if she knew how false it sounded to him. "Funny, from a man who cages people like animals."

"Calling some the scum I pull in animals is an insult to beasts everywhere. Caging them may not be the best that can be done, but it's better than leaving them out there to hurt people. It's all we have, right now.

"And I would never cage a wild thing. I hate zoos, even the ones with so-called 'natural habitats.'"

Would she rise to the bait? "Some people are wild things, too, Jim," she said softly.

Bingo. "You mean like Blair? Of course. But if they break the law, hurt people, they're choosing to risk being caged. I can't imagine Blair doing that, can you?"

"Sometimes we walk into situations not seeing them for the trap they are," Naomi replied thoughtfully.

"True. I think you're seriously underestimating Blair if you think he would walk into a trap, though. First time he felt the tiniest bit choked, he'd break land-speed records getting away." Jim hoped his laugh rang more sincere than hers had. "Just ask around campus if you don't believe me, and *believe me* I've seen him do it often enough."

He took several large bites from his toast, and washed them down with coffee. Naomi did the same, using her tea, then went on. "I suppose you're right. He's always been restless, ready to move on. In fact, I've been wondering why he's still here. I think it's the longest he's stayed in one place since he started college."

Jim rolled his eyes. "Blame me. I hope you don't mind; I got parental on him when I saw the last couple of places he was thinking about. One of them, the cockroaches would have carried him off to put in their larder."

"He can't afford much else."

"I know. Something decent will come along sooner or later. That or he'll take off on some expedition."

Naomi seemed to be choosing her words carefully, now. "He told me he had been offered a six month trip by the head of Rainier's Anthro department."

Nodding as if he knew, too, Jim said, "Has he decided to take that one or the one Phelps from Columbia offered?"

Clearly, Naomi hadn't been told about that, but she too, went on acting. "It's a hard decision to make."

"Well, the Rainier one is with people he knows, and it'll give his dissertation a lot of cache. But the survey Columbia is doing of the tribes is so extensive; it's an anthropologists dream." He sneaked a peek through his lashes, afraid she would see his triumph if he looked at her directly. "As long as it'll take, he'll have to put off his thesis for a while. Couple of years at least, but he started young enough that would put him even with most doctoral candidates, wouldn't it?" Thought it was bad having him ride with a cop, Naomi? At least you knew he was being take care of and you could see him.

Not giving her time to answer, he stood, taking his dishes with him. Without thinking, he pulled whole grain bread out, and placed several slices in the toaster. Taking juice from the fridge, he poured a cup and set it on the table, hiding his face by looking down. He was enjoying his success at his game of one-upmanship, mean and petty as the pleasure was.

The only trump Naomi could play now was any suspicions she might have about the nature of Blair's relationship with him. Obviously Blair hadn't said anything last night, or he wouldn't have bothered to sleep on the couch. With Blair having spent the past week sleeping downstairs, his room had an occupied look, giving her no room for speculation on that point.

Still, Blair was his mother's child. Naomi wouldn't just walk away. Because he was expecting it, he was able to keep his features clear when Naomi looked around speculatively and remarked, "This place is going to be awfully empty when Blair leaves."

Naomi, you have no idea. Managing a chuckle, he looked around too, saying, "I guess he does have a way of leaving his mark on his environment, doesn't he?"

Her laugh was genuine, this time. "He does at that."

From the door Blair asked irritably, "He does what?"

Jim poured water for tea, and answered. "Snores."

"Hey, no fair talking about me behind my back!" Blair sat at the table, emptying his juice in one swallow.

"You were on your back, Sandburg. The snores could be heard in Kansas." Jim walked over, handed him the cup of tea, continued on to the door. "Got a date with some waves." He gave what he hoped was a nonchalant wave and left.
 
 

Behind him, Blair stared into his cup, hugging it tightly with both hands. God, I'm so cold, he thought, fuzzily. Why am I so cold, lately?

"How does he do that?" Naomi asked with a mixture of exasperation and amusement."

"Do what?"

"Make breakfast in time for it to be ready when you come in."

Not really paying attention to his own words, Blair answered, "He probably heard me coming up the hall that's all."

"That's all?"

The tone Naomi used jerked Blair back to the loft, and he went on defensively, "If I'm up and I hear Jim coming, I put on the coffee for him or get a beer. You taught me to be a good guest, Mom. Jim returns the courtesy."

Placated, she sat finished her tea and leaned back in her chair. "Tiring, isn't it?"

Grateful his obfuscation worked, Blair admitted, "Sometimes. And some of Jim's rules are *so* anal."

Knowingly, Naomi agreed. "It's usually better to move on before it gets to be too much of a drag. This trip could be perfect timing."

"I haven't decided about that, yet."

Naomi stood, "Well, you should think about Jim, too. You're invading his space, disturbing his order. He'll start trying to control you with those rules of his without meaning to..." She went on, moving toward Blair's room as she did.

Blair didn't hear a word. Realization had hit him so hard he dropped his cup into his lap, not even feeling the sting of the hot liquid. He had automatically started to tell Naomi that Jim never tried to control their relationship.

Because *he* did. From the start, and every step of the way. Understanding tinged with horror, rose inside him, and he sat, unable to move, as he replayed all his memories of their time as lovers. Though Jim had been the one to confess his feelings, first, Blair had been the one who determined which steps they took, when and how. He had even insisted on teaching Jim how to make love his way, with those stupid lessons, instead of letting Jim come to him in his own time and way.

Holding himself and beginning to rock, he thought of the times he had left Jim's bed, not returning until he wanted to. Of how he had shut Jim out, over and over, assuming correctly that Jim would be waiting there for him when *he* wanted him. Damn it, damn it. How long had it been this time? Almost two weeks!

"Blair, baby, what is it? What's wrong?" Naomi knelt beside him and tried to pull him into her arms.

"How utterly selfish can someone be?" he asked her, eyes screwed shut in pain. "Coming in, taking what you want and need, taking off again when it gets to be too much work. Calling responsibility a fetter, a leash - it's just the upkeep, Naomi. Why haven't I ever seen that? A home or a relationship - they're your shelter and protection. Why is taking care of them too much to ask?"

"Baby, what are you talking about?"

"About being so afraid of being used by someone, you become the user. About freaking totally and completely because some one needs you. You don't want them to because it gives them a hold over you."

Beginning sound hurt, Naomi started to protest. "You have a right to be free, Blair, to enjoy your life. As long as you're up front, telling them what to expect, what harm can it do?"

"None, as long as you don't claim to love them, Mom. Please tell me you understand why that changes it all, because if you don't, we're probably going to have a fight. One neither one of us is going to be able to process through it."

Sadly, "You're sleeping with him."

"Yes, for some months now." He answered, absently. He leaped out of his chair, tumbling it in his haste. He'd been so centered on himself! Caught in the suffocation he felt from being linked so tightly with Jim, he'd been ignoring every warning it had been giving him.

He raced upstairs, checking to see what Jim had taken with him. Twenty/twenty hindsight he thought, on the way. When was the last time my touchy-feely lover so much as patted my hand? Kissed me? How many rejections can a man take before he's too hurt to try any more? And Jim, my Jim, shuts down when he hurts. It's the only way he knows how to deal with it.

"Blair. You can't just make an announcement like that and run off!" Naomi stood at the top of the stairs, effectively blocking them.

Blair ignored her comment, still visually sweeping through Jim's things. "Did Jim say where he was going? I have to find him, like right now."

"Blair Sandburg!" Able to count the number of times his mother had used a mother's voice on him, hearing it now got his full attention.

He stopped, went to his mother, and held her shoulders between his hands. "Mom, I know he's a cop and you don't approve of that. I know you don't like that I get caught up in his cases. Or that being a part of his life puts me at risk. But he's my life and whether you approve or disapprove, that isn't going to change."

"I hear you, Blair," was all she said.

Tenderly, he kissed her cheek, hugging her as he did. "No, Mom, *listen* to me. I'm going to spend the rest of my existence with him, if he'll let me. Whether that's fifty days, fifty months, fifty years, I don't care. I hope you can find a way to be ok with that. If you can't, you might want to be gone when I bring him back because I'm going to bring him up here and nail him to the mattress, big time."

He gave her another quick peck, darted around her, and was gone.
 
 

It felt almost like being at peace, he decided. All decisions made, for now, nothing to do but to wait for things to happen. Tired, good tired from a physically hard day, full belly, a mild buzz from really decent beer, and a bonfire- added together it was close enough to peace for him.

He dug his butt into the sand for a better seat, leaned back against the rocks, and let his mind go with the waves. Confident no one would find this hidden cove before dawn, he had changed into clothes, leaving his wet suit and board where the tide would carry them away. Eventually someone else who knew about this particular spot would find the things he would leave behind to suggest his being here. They might report the wallet, etc. to the locals. They might not. It didn't really matter.

With his board and wet suit gone, his disappearance would be chalked up to drowning. He'd be just another careless surfer who mixed booze, waves and solitude. Blair would be the only one to question, and he worried about that, some. Not much really, he tried to convince himself, half hypnotized by the flames. Kid was probably looking for a way out by now. Oh, he'd be all tragic, but he'd also probably feel guilty for being secretly relieved.

A tiny thread of conscience throbbed. Trying to get away from it, Jim watched the sparks from the fire fly heavenward, letting their movements make patterns to amuse him. Funny he couldn't remember ever mentioning to Blair that he could see the wakes sparks left behind, like comets with tails. Wonder why? Would've tickled him.

As if conjured by his thoughts, Blair stood on the other side of the fire, framed by the dancing trails of the fire's children. Not believing what he saw he studied his hallucination. So very beautiful, he thought, walking with light even in the darkness. Sad, too; why would Blair be so sad and solemn?

The evening breeze shifted slightly, and it carried Blair's scent to him. Jolted back to reality, Jim jumped to his feet. "Blair! What's wrong!"

Walking around the fire, Blair went straight to Jim, locked his arms around Jim's waist, and buried his face on Jim's chest. "You're leaving me." he said simply.

Never before had Jim been unable to decide what to do with his hands when holding Blair. Resisting an imperative to hug Blair back, he waffled, finally leaving them resting by the fingertips on his shoulder blades.

"Please don't. Please." Blair went on, when Jim didn't answer him.

"I... don't know what you're talking about, babe," Jim fumbled for his reply, still in shock at Blair's announcement.

"Don't lie to me. Gods know, I deserve it, but don't, ok?"

"NO! No you don't deserve it; look, I can't talk about it. Trust me here, Chief."

The sound Blair made was half sob and half sigh. "If I had, you wouldn't be planning this."

Denial was his first thought again, but maybe some honesty would get Blair out of here before it was too late. "Look, it's some undercover work. Very deep under; I'll be away a while. What we're trying to do is important. I couldn't say no."

"Take me with you."

That tiny thread from earlier became a rope and started growing tentacles. "You can't. You'd have to walk away from the university, your work, your friends, everything. Even your mom."

"I can. I'll walk away from all of it, but don't you walk away from me."

"There's no place for you in the plan, no way to explain you."

"I'll be your houseboy, your personal assistant, your whore, whatever they can fit me with. Or I'll make my own place; I'm an anthropologist, it's what I do."

"Come on, be reasonable here, Sandburg." Maybe anger would work better.

"This is as reasonable as I can be. I won't fight, Jim." Blair never changed the even, determined level of his voice, though he didn't look up from his refuge. "And I won't be left behind."

"You can't give up everything for me. It isn't right."

"Why not? You were ready to do it for me."

Dumbfounded, Jim didn't know how to counter that fact. Tell him it wasn't the same? He looked into the heart of the bonfire, felt the numbness of the past weeks give way before the truth in Blair's words, and couldn't answer with less than that, himself.

One hand flat on his back to balance him, he put a finger under Blair's chin to tilt his head back. "Blair, I can't do this anymore. From the start, things haven't worked quite right. I tried to learn to love you the way you wanted, and the lessons are memories that could make me hard five minutes after I've died.

"I failed the final exam, Teach. I can't love you with open arms, letting you come and go the way you need. It hurts too damn much, and the pain.." he faltered, thinking of the time he caressed Blair as he slept, " the pain makes me do crazy things. I have to leave."

Slow tears had begun to seep down Blair's cheeks, and he shrank away from the hold on his chin. Inhaling and exhaling deeply, he shut his eyes momentarily. They were strangely calm when he opened them again, and his voice was steady. "Then let me say good-bye to you on my back."

His gut knotted at the words. "On your back?"

"Or on my knees, or my stomach, or whatever. Anything you want, Jim, any way you want it."

Jim's legs gave out, and he fell, carrying Blair with him. He tried to get away, pushing at Blair to get him off, but Blair wouldn't be pushed. They wound up on their sides, both breathing hard, Jim holding his lover as far away from him as Blair's unrelenting grasp would let him. Cornered, needing to get away now!, Jim drew back a fist, not even sure he could let it fly.

Blair gave him no chance. Pursing his lips, he whistled, loud and shrill. With a shout of pain, Jim clapped his hands over his ears and cringed, his entire heading reverberating with the sound. In rapid succession he felt Blair's hands leave his waist, the touch of cold metal on his right wrist, and Blair's weight leaving him.

Laying flat on his back, he spent a few minutes stargazing, ruthlessly pushing away the smallest semblance of thoughts. When his heart rate and Blair's had returned to normal, he turned to face his lover. Visually he traced the chain of the handcuffs that connected them. Blair was curled up, facing the fire, with his back to Jim. Tentatively, he tugged on the chain, as if checking its reality.

"I don't suppose you'd care to tell me where the keys are?" he asked conversationally.

"I threw them in the ocean."

"You don't really expect this to stop me?"

"No, just slow you down long enough to tell you something."

Dear god, but Blair's voice sounded the way he felt; numb, old, and tired. Against his better judgement, he closed the small distance between them. He aligned himself along Blair's back, almost but not quite touching. "So tell me."

"Jim, sometimes when a student fails, it's the teacher's fault, not the student's. Sometimes, he's not even teaching the student what he needs to know." Blair never stopped staring into the fire, though he began to idly pick up handful of sand and let it dribble from his fingers. "Maybe instead of you learning to love me my way, I should have been learning yours."

"No, I.." Heart literally quaking in pain and fear, Jim scrambled to find words. "It would have been wrong, babe." Remembering his words earlier to Naomi, he went on, "You've been free all your life, how could I cage you and still live with myself?"

"A home isn't a cage. But I don't know how to make one. I don't know how to build a permanent place with someone. I've never seen it done or had a reason to try." Blair turned onto his back, looking up into Jim's face, not trying to hide his pain. "Teach me, Jim, please. If you only give me one lesson, it'll be more than I had. Maybe I won't fuck up again if I'm lucky enough to get another chance."

He raised trembling fingers to Jim's face, touching his cheek lightly. "Teach me, please." he repeated. "Show me how to surrender to you. Just once," he was begging now, tears coming again. "*Anything* you want. *Anyway* you want. Please, please, ple...."

Incapable of enduring more, Jim covered Blair's mouth with his own, cutting off his pleas. Need was snarling through him, robbing him of everything but the hunger Blair had just begged him to release. His mastery of their kiss was complete; he held Blair's head still with both hands and devoured his taste.

Raising himself, slightly, he fit himself over Blair, then pinned him to the sand. The feel of that compact form, resting trustingly under his was enough by itself to make him hard. He moved against him, seeking and finding Blair's growing erection. Stroking his length along it, he encouraged it, teased it, until Blair was moaning deep in his chest and matching his movement.

Ripping his lips away, he looked down at Blair, and dropped enough of his weight onto him to stop his motions. When Blair opened his eyes, Jim swept a lock of hair from his forehead, and kissed him there. "Open my shirt, " he ordered.

Blair did as he was told, kissing the skin he revealed as he did. Sighing his pleasure, Jim guided the kisses with a hand on the back of Blair's head. "Licks and bites, too," he murmured, showing his appreciation of the attention by letting his hips undulate into Blair's. He groaned when Blair found a nipple. "Bite me there, harder. Both of them, be rough, damn, like that, like that." He felt a pulse from Blair's cock, and forced himself to break away, sitting back on his heels, pulling the chain taunt.

Reaching for him, Blair half sat up, too, but Jim eluded his hands. "On your knees, like me," and he began unbuttoning Blair's shirt. In short order it was hanging open, and Jim was undoing the top button of Blair's jeans. Carefully he took out Blair's cock, running his thumb over the leaking head as he did.

Sucking his thumb, he sat back, as far away as the chain holding him would allow, and exposed himself to his lover's eyes. He repeated his thumb's journey, this time on himself, then offered the result up to Blair. Blair took it greedily, hand on Jim's wrist to hold it steady. Once clean, he tasted the rest of Jim's fingers, and would have begun to work on his hand, but Jim stood and removed his pants.

He turned, and his bare backside was all the invitation Blair needed. Hot, wet sweeps of feeling moved over the cheeks of his ass, and he grunted, spreading his legs wider. Moving his free hand over his chest, pinching his nipples, he threw his head back and let the sensations pour over him. When Blair finally began to taste the opening to his body, he reached for himself, using the fingertips to slip up and down along his cock in time to Blair's tongue.

"Oh, lick me, lick me," he muttered, but made himself break away again after a few torturous minutes.

"JIM!" Blair cried, and pounded on his thighs in frustration.

Turning and dropping to his knees, Jim plundered Blair's mouth with another kiss, making trails of nail marks under his shirt and down his back as he did. He pushed his hands down the back of Blair's jeans, and filled them with Blair's bottom. Caught, all Blair could do was arch toward Jim, whimpering.

Jim found what he wanted, and slipped in one finger, surprised to find Blair lubed and ready. "Oh, you slut," he growled against Blair's mouth, and added another finger. "You wanted this. You came to me ready to be fucked."

"Wanted you," Blair panted. He pushed back onto the fingers inside him. "Always want you, Jim."

Giving him a third finger, Jim began to rotate and twist them, looking for and finding the bump of Blair's prostate. Blair bucked against him, small screams escaping his throat as he did. "Is this what you want?" he demanded, shoving the fingers in harder. "Is this what you need?"

Somehow Blair managed to focus on Jim's face, matching the intent stare from him. "No," he whispered. "Want *you.* Need *you.*"

With an inarticulate cry, Jim dragged Blair onto his thighs, trying to push off his pants and pull him onto his cock in the same moment. Hindered by the handcuffs, but helped by Blair's eagerness, they maneuvered until Blair was nude from the waist down. Wrapping his legs around Jim's waist, he was plunged down on Jim's cock. His hands were bruisingly tight on Jim's shoulders as he used them for leverage to meet Jim's mindless thrusts.

Jim was past knowing or caring. He was enveloped by the incredible tight, slick heat, lost in it. Every sense he had burst in on him, intensifying with each stroke. The slippery sound of flesh moving past flesh tingled through the taste of ear and metal blended with sea/sex/Blair scent drove him in harder

As if Blair were he and he were Blair, he felt the rise of their seed within them, scalding and powerful.

He held it off, holding Blair still on him by force, soothing the fever in them with soft words, telling Blair over and over that he loved him. When Blair's shaking subsided into trembling, he kissed him, open-mouthed, and began to move again, sensuously.

He built their passion again, and again denied them both. And again. And again.

Muscles screaming in agony that couldn't be felt over the rapture, he laid Blair onto the sand. Holding Blair wide open by the thighs, he plowed into the vulnerable hole, and the sight of his cock sliding into it ambushed him. Bellowing like a beast, he voiced his coming to the sea and stars, hearing Blair echo him.

Their cries rose in crescendo that ended abruptly as they fainted.
 
 

Blair was still quivering when he regained consciousness. He and Jim were laying side by side, his head on Jim's shoulder, legs jumbled together. Jim had one arm across his back, holding him against his chest, and their clasped hands were cradled between them. Gradually he realized that the chest against his was heaving, not from exhaustion, but from crying. Even as pain spiked him, the arm enfolding him squeezed a bit more. "Joy," was all Jim said.

Heart rising with the same emotion, Blair lifted his head to drink the tears as they fell. Eventually he found Jim's mouth, and drank from that until Jim broke away with a gasp. Hiding his face in Blair's hair, he rested until their breathing returned to normal. Then he took a fist full of curls and tugged Blair's head back until he could look into his face. "Ahh, babe, how am I going to let you go now?"

"So don't. Keep me with you," Blair answered, grinning impudently.

Not smiling back, Jim asked, "Are you sure? I can't share you any more, babe. Not now, not after that."

"Jim, I never, *never,* intended for you to. The closest I've even come was Molly." Blair told him the rest while Jim listened patiently, combing Blair's hair with his fingers as he did.

"..so I fall backwards, knocking the wind out of me, and Moll lands on top, but she gets a foot stuck in the steering wheel and the horn starts blowing. I can't move, and she can't get untangled, lights are coming on up and down the street, and I know it's only a matter of time until someone calls the cops. Thinking great, it'll be all over the station by morning that Sandburg had to be rescued from one of his women, I grab her by the butt to pull her the rest of the way out of the car, but I forgot she wasn't wearing any panties, and a finger.. Jim, stop laughing."

Jim tried to choke it back, but it kept escaping around the edges. "Sorry (snort), sorry (laugh) and she (laugh harder) let you live!?"

Laughing now, himself, Blair went on, "Someone stuck their head out a window to yell, and I think she was so embarrassed being caught mooning the world, she forgot all about me. Last thing I saw was a Molly colored streak going through her door!"

Shaking his head, not even trying to stop now, Jim cuddled the smaller man closer, and laughed. "Serves you right," he chuckled later. "Leading her on like that!"

"Leading.. " Blair stared incredulously. "Leading! See if I'm sympathetic the next time some woman gets to you!"

"You weren't sympathetic the last time. You were horny." Jim replied smugly.

"No, what you did about it made me horny," Blair shot back.

Jim lost his smile. "It's what you did about it, too, Chief. Only you didn't wait for me. I thought.." he hesitated.

"You thought we agreed to do it together when it happened. How'd you know?" Blair's voice was small and shamed.

"I forgot something, came back upstairs. It was pretty obvious to me what was happening on the other side of the door."

Blair was quiet for a very long time, then he offered, timidly. "What if I promise, let you tear up my dissertation promise, that I'll never, ever touch myself again without your permission?"

They were pressed together so intimately, both of them felt it when Jim's penis shifted, straightened at the suggestion. "It might make personal hygiene challenging," Jim blustered, anyway.

"You love the idea." Blair stated flatly.

With a deep sigh, he answered, "Yeah. Listen, Chief, a part of me would like to put a collar and chain on you, and keep you naked, beside me, every moment of the day. The hairy, ignorant caveman part so to speak.

He went back to finger-combing Blair's locks. "But I want, I need you as my partner, not my boytoy." He smiled ruefully, "Which means occasionally we're both going to have to do battle with the caveman, I think."

Idly Blair began skimming a fingertip over Jim's throat. "If it was the hairy caveman behind that pounding I just took, I could stand a visit once in a while."

It was Jim's turn to sound shamed. "No, that was pure me. I... God, Blair, did you have any idea at all what was going to happen when you offered yourself like that? Please tell me you knew I'd lose control. Tell me I didn't rape you again."

"It's impossible to rape someone who's enthusiastically cooperating, love," Blair reassured him, then paused, considering, "Again?"

"A few days ago," Jim started, hesitantly, "You were sleeping, and I," strangled, he stopped, then made himself finish. "I'd been drinking. That's no excuse, but you looked so sweet and I, we, hadn't in so long! I couldn't wait any more, I wanted to drink you all up but I was afraid you wouldn't let me." Helplessly, he shrugged. "I took it slow so you'd sleep through it."

This time it was Blair's body that betrayed its interest. He studied Jim's throat, feeling the blush rise with the stirring of arousal, and mumbled, "Ok, ok, so I like the idea of you needing me so much you just take it. No surprise, right? Is it still rape when you would've said yes if you knew?"

"No consent is no consent. Then you smiled at me, still trusting me after what I did... I knew I had to leave before the pain made me do something that destroyed you." For a minute he was living the agony again, shuddering with it.

"Did you give any thought at all to how I would feel when I realized you were gone?" Blair said, for once ignoring his lover's misery. "Did you really think I'd buy whatever it is you had planned here?"

Nonplused at Blair's reaction, Jim brought himself completely back to his partner. "Of course, I did. Knowing it was going to hurt you was the only thing that kept me from walking away that same night.

"And you would have bought it - there wouldn't have been any reason not to. It's simple enough; I hike up over those rocks, leaving a few identifying things behind for the authorities to find, meet my ride, everybody assumes I drown surfing. Who would know differently?"

"I would know - the same way I knew you were leaving."

Uncertain, Jim mentally reviewed every step he had taken. "What mistake did I make?" he asked slowly. "What gave it away?" He inched away enough to see Blair's face.

Swallowing hard, Blair said, "The Amazing Sandburg, sees all, knows all, remember?"

Like he was treading on nitro, Jim asked, "Like when I was burned? At Blair's nod, he went on, "Are you ready to talk about it now?"

He waited expectantly, but Blair's next question caught him off guard. "Just now, how did you keep me from getting off? There's *no way,* man, you were together enough to think about what was happening with me." This time the flash of excitement was stronger, but they both ignored it.

Jim looked away, into the coals of the fire, and tried to give the question hard thought. As he did, he made a long arm and grabbed a stick to stir up the fire.

"Why did you do that?"

Still thinking, he replied, "Because you're getting cold."

"How do you know? I'm not shivering, no goosebumps."

Reflexively, he answered, "I just know." He repeated, more slowly, thoughtfully, "I just know. Whether you're hungry or upset, how far way from me you are, if you need something." He looked deep into Blair's eyes. "That's what it is, for you, too. You just know. Sentinel and Guide?"

"Maybe."

Obviously still deep in thought, Jim went on. "When I was blind on golden, and found that pizza on my desk - the first words out of my mouth, practically, was 'where's Sandburg?' We weren't even lovers, then." He nodded to himself, as if resolving some minor problem that had nagged. He moved to fill the few inches he had put between them earlier, nuzzling onto the top of Blair's head.

"This doesn't bother you a bit, does it?" Blair questioned softly. "I flip to the point I'm ready for your padded room, and you act like I told you 'I love you.'"

With infinite care, Jim outlined Blair's mouth with the tip of his tongue. "Didn't you?"

It wasn't a flash of passion, this time, it was a steady rise, and neither ignored it. Blair rocked his torso, slightly, from side to side, rubbing his chest hair over Jim's bare muscles, "I guess I did. Jim..."

"Mmmm," he was tracing Blair's cheek, now.

"Why did you go ballistic when I asked to say goodbye on my back?"

Jim had found an ear, and was moistly defining, it, earrings and all. After a second, "Because I knew damn good and well I couldn't take you and walk away again. Because the first time I masturbated with you in my fantasies, you were offering me anything I wanted, any way I wanted it. I couldn't have refused you if our lives depended on it. And I thought it did."

Suddenly he pulled away, "Blair, are you more - I don't know - sensitive - to us than me? If you were missing, I don't think I'd 'just know' where you are."

Blair chased him, taking his turn at using his tongue intimately, painting a line across Jim's jaw. In a bit he answered, "Uh uh. I drove along the coast until I found your truck. Went the wrong way at first and had to back track. Found your truck, only one way to go on this beach. I was just guessing you really did mean to go surfing. Or at least make it look like it." He kissed Jim, probing his mouth pleasurably.

Half laughing, half moaning, Jim returned the kiss, sucking and dueling until they were riding against each other lovingly. "Man, I *can not* believe this," Blair said against Jim's mouth. "Again? After what we just did?"

Jim moaned in reply, but there wasn't as much pleasure in the sound this time "No, we're not making love again. Not here, anyway."

Yanking away, Blair stared at him open-mouthed.

Jim took the opportunity to sit up, dusting at himself. "Making love on the beach always seems romantic until the sand starts to get into everything. I'm rubbed raw in a dozen places, and it'll be worse by the time we get home." He reached behind himself and scooped sand out of the crack of his ass.

Stubbornly trying not to giggle, Blair stood and started brushing, too, working on Jim's back where he couldn't reach for himself. "Funny how you didn't notice, at first. Guess you had other things on your mind."

Shooting him a grin and starting to brush away sand from Blair's legs, Jim asked, "Do we still have some of the salve from the hospital? We're going to need it."

Blair stopped moving. "Damn. Damn."

"What?"

"I'll have to sleep downstairs. I don't want to be downstairs."

Instantly Jim stopped worrying about sand and stood, himself, enclosing Blair in an enormous hug. "Blair, you're not sleeping downstairs. Not tonight, not ever. It's the one thing I'm going to insist on, the one thing I want you to promise me. I'd rather spend an entire night tossing and turning in pain than laying there missing you. Promise me."

Blair hugged him back, and topped it with another kiss. "I promise. In fact, tonight I don't have a choice."

Jim looked at him oddly, then started laughing as Blair lifted their joined hands and ogled the handcuffs still holding them.

The End