Disclaimer: Do I have to? Oh,
okay - so I disclaim anything to anybody, don't own 'em, don't make any moola
from them but I do keep them in my basement and take good care of them and they
sing in my ears and talk up a storm. And a heartfelt thank-you to PetFly for
creating them and giving us such a wonderful gift.
Warning: There is one, for those
of you who, like me, need to be spoiled. Just scroll to the bottom of this page,
to the caveat and read the warning. For those of you who don't wish to be
spoiled, simply delete after reading whatever you enjoy reading in part 0.
Note: Thanks to melvin as always
for his inspiration and betaing and to Lisa who stepped in while Greenie is
having fun at Media West and yes, we all hate her! LOL!
Note again: Not a Memorial Day story in the true sense of the word, but
as you read, I hope you sense what I'm trying to say.
Summary: Simon interrogates a
"Just take your time,
"Could I have some
Captain Banks reached over and
clicked off the tape recorder then gave a nod to Joel Taggert. Joel left the
interrogation room but returned a few moments later. He set a plastic cup in
front of the man seated across from Banks. The man took two gulps, then glanced
"All right, let's try again.
In your own words, Detective."
The man cleared his throat and
while staring at his clasped hands, he began to speak.
The man didn't wait for an
"I never believed in true
love. Never. Lust I could buy into, sex too, but real love? Nope. But then -
then I met him. He changed everything."
The man took a sip of water, then
"I was a closed-off bastard
before he came along. Anyone could tell you that. I did my job, damn well too,
but that was it."
He glanced away from his hands
and cocked his head at Banks. "You know why my marriage ended, right?"
At a nod from Banks, the man continued.
"It was a mistake from the
get-go so didn't last long and once again - I was a loner. Hell, I was a loner
*during* the marriage."
The man shot a sideways glance at
Taggert, who stood against the wall with another detective, then he looked back
"How I met him isn't
important, only that he changed me. That's what you need to understand. And,
and, how *good* he was, you need to understand that as well."
The man bent his head and closed
his eyes. His hands remained clasped. Finally
he whispered, "i can't believe this. i can't believe he's - gone."
The man shook his head slowly.
"no, no, i'm all right. i, i just - when i...." he paused, took a
deep, shuddering breath and in a stronger voice, continued.
"When they took me down to
the morgue, to identify him? I never so much as twitched. Dan pulled back that
bloody sheet and I stared down at his beautiful face and I never even blinked. I
wanted to touch him so bad, to brush the hair from his forehead, to soothe him
but I couldn't. Didn't dare. I held
it all in, do you see?"
Again, the question didn't
require an answer.
"During the investigation, I
never let anything slip, kept up the facade. Kept my game face in place, ran it
by the rules. But every night - every night I would hold his clothes, sleep with
them, hold his pillow, wrapped around all of it, wrapped around *him* - and I'd
He swallowed hard.
"You saw the body, Captain.
You saw what Nelson did to him."
Blue eyes suddenly blazed bright
as the voice darkened with challenge.
"What if it had been someone
*you* loved? What would *you* have done, sir? You know he died in great pain,
that he was alive during all of it. All.
Of. It. You know from the reports what was done to him. Can you imagine how you
would have reacted if it had been, say, your *son*? Would you still be hearing his screams in your dreams? See
the twisted, pain-filled features of your son every time you closed your eyes?
Hear his voice, that silky voice, begging for mercy ... except ... he wouldn't
have. Begged. He wouldn't have given Nelson the satisfaction.
"His size always fooled 'em.
Small in stature but God, he was strong. An inner strength that was
unfuckingbelievable. He was the strongest man I ever knew. Nelson tried to break
him, but I saw it in his face, saw Nelson's failure. He may have finally killed
him, but he never broke him. Never."
The man lifted his head and faced
Captain Banks. His gaze was steady, eyes full of unshed tears.
"Does it bother you to know,
Captain, does it bother you to know that I loved a man? That he and I slept
together? That we made love?"
"No, Detective, it
One eyebrow rose questioningly.
"Detective, love is where
you find it. And when you do, you're damn lucky."
The man smiled wryly. "I
knew there was a reason you were Captain of Major Crime. Not an easy gig."
The man took a deep breath, then
another gulp of water. He glanced at the tape recorder and smiled again.
"I'm going down, you know. I
killed Nelson in cold blood and there is no remorse. My lawyer wants me to plead
temporary insanity, but I wasn't insane. In fact, I don't think I'd ever been
quite so sane or lucid as when I killed him.
"Of course - this would be a
whole lot easier if I'd just put a bullet in his head, wouldn't it? But surely
you see why that was too - simple? After
what he did? No, he had to *know* about the suffering he caused, he had to
*feel* that suffering."
A dead grin lit up the man's
"He was alive when I took
his balls. Alive and awake."
"Detective, you're a cop.
And like you said, a good one. You *were* half crazy when you killed Nelson.
Crazy with grief. How can you say you *weren't* suffering from temporary
insanity? The man you loved had been brutally tortured and killed, murdered by a
vicious and crazy man, killed in a manner that will haunt many of us for months,
if not years. Let your lawyer plead
"Turn it back on, please? I
want this to end."
With a resigned expression on his
face, and a great deal of sadness, Banks did as asked.
"You know, we fought that
night. He wanted to move out. Was worried about my career. Like anyone cares?
How many gay cops do we have on board? At least five percent. Hell, five percent
are out of the closet. Maybe we
have closer to ten percent. I told him all that. But damn, he was just so
worried. Always worried about me, taking care of me, protecting me. He took such
good care of me.
"Never had that before.
Ever. No one ever took care of me. I took care of myself, you know? Aw, God. He
loved me so fucking much. Sometimes he'd hold me hard, you know? Like he thought
I'd disappear, or something. Like - I'd leave him. Or kick him out. I did that
once, but that's not important here, is it?
"Anyway, that night we
fought and I stormed out after accusing him of being selfish, of being afraid.
Can you believe that? That I'd accuse *him* of being selfish? Of being afraid?
A great trembling seemed to
overtake the man, his shoulders shaking, breaths coming in deep, great gulps.
Banks reached out to once again turn off the recorder, but the man's hand shot
"NO! I have to finish."
Banks gazed down at the pale hand
clamped down on his dark brown one and he nodded.
"Okay, okay - it's still on.
Sitting back in relief, the man
"You can guess, right? I
leave and Nelson breaks in and takes him. And I should have known. I'm a cop.
And Nelson had to have been shadowing him, stalking him and I missed it. And I -
I - I ... left him." The voice dropped to the merest whisper...
"i left him to nelson. let
nelson take him. hurt him ... kill him."
For a moment - the man appeared
to not have heard the question, but then....
"That's what this is all
about, isn't it? You think there was someone helping me? My confession is on
tape, it's over, but you think I had help."
He smiled a bittersweet grin.
"No, Captain Banks, no one knew, no one helped me. But I *am* a cop and it
was easy to walk into Major Crime, easy to get into your office and take a copy
of the investigation once it had been turned over to you. That's all. I
Banks glanced up to the detective
standing against the wall, shoulder to shoulder with Taggert and the detective
gave a slight nod.
"All right, Detective, I
think we're done." Banks leaned forward, one hand resting on the man's arm.
"Listen to me. You *are* insane. You don't belong in prison. Do you
Sad, fathoms deep sad, forever
sad and dead blue eyes gazed back at him.
"Yes I do. I let him die and
I killed Nelson. I *do* belong in prison."
"No, son, you don't."
Simon gave Taggert a look and the
big man pushed away from the wall and gently took the prisoner's arm.
"Let's go, Detective."
The man gazed up into the gentle
face of Joel Taggert and said, "You really shouldn't call me *detective*
anymore, you know."
Joel urged him up and a moment
later he guided the broken man from the room.
Simon closed his eyes and rested
his weary body against the back of the chair. He kept his eyes shut even when
the other man pulled out a chair and sat down.
"He was a good man,"
Banks spoke to no one in particular.
"Yes, he was."
"There's something you
The other man waited, his stomach
Banks opened his eyes and
connected with the pale blue ones.
"When we searched Nelson's
apartment, we found that he'd - he'd, already chosen his next victim. There were
- pictures on the walls."
Detective Jim Ellison waited, but
the darkness that gripped his soul told him what Simon was about to say.
"The pictures were of
Sandburg. There were over a hundred of them."
In a deceptively easy voice, Jim
asked, "You searched his apartment days ago, Simon."
"Yes, yes we did."
"And yet, I'm telling you
now. And you're wondering why. You're wondering why I didn't tell you at the
Brown eyes bore into the cold
pair of blue ice cubes that stared back at him.
"Jim, you just saw why. Joel
just escorted the reason back to his cell."
The ice melted a bit. "I
"No, you don't see. You
don't see a whole hell of a lot. All things considered."
Jim sat back, drummed his fingers
on the table, then moved to the empty cup and began to play with it. Finally....
"Did you mean what you told
Rawlings about love where you find it? And - not caring?"
Jim nodded, then nodded again as
if answering a question of his own.
"It's late, Jim. Go
Jim pushed himself up, suddenly
feeling every one of his thirty-eight years. And more. As he opened the door,
Banks spoke again.
"Jim, talk. Tell. Then be
quiet about it."
"I knew there was a reason
you were Captain of Major Crime."
Jim unlocked the truck door and
with a *to the bone* weariness that slowed his movements, he slid in and started
the engine. But he didn't put the truck into gear. Instead, he stared straight
ahead, seeing nothing. But he heard plenty. He heard Detective Rawlings' voice,
his confession repeating a drum-like staccato in his brain.
Jim remembered Kevin Lewis. He'd
met the young man at Ginty's one night, what, over a year ago? A handsome young
man, kind eyes, quiet and unassuming, with almost - angelic features. If Jim had
to use one word to describe Kevin, it would have been - gentle.
Not a word he'd have used to
describe Blair Sandburg. Nor would he apply angelic to Blair's looks. So what
word would he use to capture Blair Sandburg?
Yeah, that would work.
Or - stubborn.
And - Incandescent. That worked,
No one word could really do it.
Unbidden, Kevin Lewis popped back
into Jim's brain - but it was the Kevin Lewis of the morgue. The cold, lifeless
Kevin Lewis. The damaged, tortured Kevin Lewis.
Jim dropped his head onto the
steering wheel and moaned softly.
Like the sudden picture of Lewis,
that word appeared on the event horizon of Jim's mind.
Vulnerable. Blair was so god
damned vulnerable. Was Jim the only man who knew this?
Another moan escaped from tightly
God, but how Sandburg could put
up a good front - he had Simon fooled - hell, he had everyone fooled, but damn,
Blair was the most vulnerable man Jim had ever known. He'd never given Naomi the
credit she deserved.
She'd known. She'd tried to tell
them that day in Simon's office. Tried to explain. But he and Simon had simply
chalked it up to a mother bear protecting her cub. An *overprotective* mother
bear. But they'd been so wrong and Naomi had been so right.
Blair was also the strongest man
Jim had ever known.
And the most beautiful.
And Nelson was dead and Blair was
alive, would not be the next victim because of a man enough like Jim to have
been his soul twin. But there was one difference between Detective Rawlings and
Detective Ellison would have
killed Nelson - then himself.
Jim lifted his head and peered
through the windshield, spotted the opening elevator disgorging officers - end
of shift - and realized with a start that he'd been sitting in his truck for
over thirty minutes.
Anxious to clear the garage
before he might be spotted and waylaid even longer, he quickly put the truck
into reverse, checked over his shoulder and backed into the aisle then shifted
into drive and made his exit.
As Jim drove through his streets
he found himself torn in half. A part of him wanted to break every speed law
known to man and get home as fast as humanly, or inhumanly, possible. But the
other half, the frightened, sickened half of Jim Ellison wanted to stop
somewhere; a hole in the wall, someplace dark and smelling of stale sweat,
alcohol, cigarette smoke, someplace where daylight was a dirty word, and that
half of him wanted to get drunk and stay drunk for days.
But he was older now - wiser.
He'd been taught well by Mr. Sandburg. Don't
give into the fear. Push through it and you come out smelling like a rose - or
like Sandburg. Which wasn't a bad thing at all.
Jim sped past several dives, the
ball of his foot adding just that much more pressure to the accelerator.
852 Prospect came into view and
Jim's heart flipped over then sped up. The
lights were on, the shades up. He concentrated his sense of hearing, focused,
narrowed the field and could hear Sandburg moving about, muttering nonsensical
words and strange dire threats aimed at anthropology students and Cascade police
detectives. In spite of the events of the day: Jim smiled.
He parked and suddenly energized,
literally jumped from the truck, jogged across the street and ran up all three
The red pencil was getting more
than its share of work and Blair was totally disgusted. Okay, so there were only
two days left before spring break, and yes, young men's minds turned to flights
of fancy and fantasy, but God damn it - a fucking test was a fucking test and
why the fuck hadn't the fucking sentinel who lived here, called?
The Enya tape playing in the
background was failing miserably at soothing the savage breast of the only
occupant of the loft, and to punctuate that failure, said occupant suddenly
threw the red pencil across the room. Nervous fingers threaded through a tangled
mess of hair, then searched under papers, books, more pencils, a few pens, an
odd assortment of paper clips, a half-eaten bagel, a yo-yo and finally touched
on the object of the search; a much used hair tie.
Blair quickly and efficiently
tied back the attacking fur and sighed. Slightly
ashamed, he rose and walked dejectedly over to where the pencil lay - bleeding
red - on the floor.
"Poor thing. Not like you
did anything wrong and yet - I killed you." He held the pieces up and
scrutinized them carefully. "A burial perhaps? Along with about half the blue books behind me? And one soon
to be dead sentinel?"
Sandburg shook his head at
nothing and walked back to the table. He set the pieces of red pencil down,
picked up another one and with renewed determination, grabbed a book and started
reading. He'd managed three paragraphs, no red pencil needed, when the front
door opened and Jim Ellison blew in looking - damn good.
Blair frowned. Jim sounded -
different, his voice - lower, softer, hell - *nicer*.
"Uh, hi, Jim."
Any anger that had been stored up
for an explosion was quickly replaced by puzzlement and curiosity. He watched as
Jim slipped out of his jacket, then take the predictable walk to the kitchen for
the predictable beer. He shook his head when Jim offered one up for him, adding
a quiet, "uh, no thanks" that left Jim shrugging his shoulders and
answering, "Suit yourself, Chief."
Which had Blair really frowning.
Again with the nice voice? Stunned blue eyes watched as Jim opened the beer,
took his swig, then leaned against the counter and smiled. At Blair. Nice smile
to go with the nice voice.
So now there's an Ellisonzone?
Sure, why not? And that was the only explanation. An Ellisonzone. Because today
- well, today had to be rough. A rough conclusion to a rough two weeks. Which
The smile wavered but remained in
place, even as Jim's pale blues darkened.
Blair stood but stayed where he
was, using the table for support.
"Are you - okay?"
"Yes. He was waiting for us,
even held out his own cuffs."
Blair's hands pushed down on the
table, his fingers whitening with the strain. "What will happen to him
"We're hoping his lawyer
will be able to persuade him to plead temporary insanity. But he's fighting
that. He *wants* to go to prison."
Blair dropped his head and said
quietly, "Not temporary insanity, Jim.
Jim sense-searched his partner.
He'd long since come to realize that scents, like fingerprints, were unique to
each individual and what he sensed coming from his partner was the was the odor
of sorrow. Blair Sandburg understood Rawlings competely.
"No, Chief, not
"Yeah, Blair. He simply
walked into Major Crime and read through the files."
"I see. So no one involved,
no leak. Must be a relief for Simon."
Something in Blair's voice
alerted Jim to a problem. He frowned and tilted his head. "Yeah, it was. He
wasn't too thrilled with the idea that someone in Major Crime might have tipped
"No, he wouldn't be."
There it was again. That tone.
"Chief, what's up?"
Blair fixated on a pale blue
paper clip as he answered almost absent-mindedly, "Nothing."
Sometimes, like now, Jim wondered
about the *detective* in front of his name and just maybe - this whole sentinel
thing was a - dream. After all, apparently Jim Ellison could be pretty dense
sometimes - gee, now there was a news flash.
"No one thought it was you,
"Bullshit. Not that it's
important. In the overall scheme of things, a friend is dead and a good cop is
going down for taking out the bad guy. You've
been run ragged and everyone's been walking on eggshells for two weeks. I'm just
glad it's over."
"Blair, no one thought it
Blair gave Jim a wry grin as he
walked into the kitchen. "You know, I think I'll have that beer now."
He pulled a bottle from the shelf, twisted the cap off and took a gulp. When he
swallowed, he said, "Everyone knew that Kevin and I weren't
"Blair, Simon never once
considered you. Not once. No one in Major Crime did."
Sandburg tried to study Jim's
expression, his own mirroring his disbelief. Jim noticed the attempted perusal
and with an encouraging grin, said, "I wouldn't lie to you, Chief."
Satisfied with the words, Blair
nodded slowly. Now that the issue of *how* Rawlings had found out about their
suspect was settled, Blair returned to worrying about Jim. Not that he ever
didn't. Worry about Jim.
"So you're really all
"Tough couple of
Neither man had moved from their
positions of standing across from one another. The only source of illumination
was the light over the kitchen table.
"Yeah, tough ... but good
cops doing a good job. Cascade, " he paused and dropped his eyes, then
whispered, "cascade is lucky. too bad they don't know *how* lucky."
"Kevin might not agree,
"He would, Jim. He would
agree." Blair lifted his head to meet Jim's gaze. "Did I ever tell you
that he and I had a talk after the party at Ginty's?"
"No, Chief, you
"It was weird, you know?
Working on the same campus for years, seeing each other in halls, crossing
paths, the occasional hello and then we discover we both have ties to the
Cascade Police Department at a retirement party for a Jewish cop at an Irish
Blair chuckled. "Yeah and
getting smaller as we speak. Anyway, a few days later we met up for lunch and he
seemed - relieved - to have someone to talk with about Rawlings."
Blair moved away and walked
slowly into the living room, still talking.
"Man, he loved the guy. He
was worried though. Worried about how their relationship would affect Rawling's
Jim followed his partner.
"Rawlings mentioned that today. Said they'd actually fought about it."
Both men sat on the couch and
took healthy swigs of their beers. For several minutes Jim found himself doing
another Sandburg-sensing, but this time, for himself.
Focusing on subtle body shifts,
scent, the warmth radiating from Sandburg's skin, the way his hair moved -
fractionally - as restless fingers twirled the beer bottle....
As he watched the bottle turning
... Jim found his breathing starting to match the thrumming of Blair's
He blinked and shook himself,
then answered, "Yeah?"
"You sure you're all
With that word, a gentle quiet
descended. Jim watched Sandburg take another sip of beer, observed the muscles
in Blair's throat move, watched lazily as one hand came up and rubbed the pug
nose ... and Jim found himself saying, "Rawlings said something interesting
"Yeah. He estimated that
five percent of the Cascade PD is gay. Well, actually, he said five percent were
out - but that another five percent were still closeted. Said he was always
trying to convince Kevin."
"For Kevin or anyone?"
"For Kevin. He's - he *was*
"Ah. But if he'd been raised
here in Cascade?"
For the first time since Jim had
arrived home, Blair smiled. "Where are you going with this, man?"
Jim shrugged nonchalantly.
"No where. Just curious. Just making conversation."
"You are so weird."
"Seriously? No. Feel right
at home." He grinned again. "Always figured that was why we got along
so well. Like minds and all."
Jim turned to face Sandburg and
asked easily, "You think our weirdness would get in the way of, say, a
Blair shook his head and gave an
"Jim, Jim, Jim. Has it ever?
And besides, it's the *second* date we both seem to have problems getting, what
with the weirdness factor, not the first."
With a punch to Blair's arm, Jim
huffed, "Sandburg, I *meant* a date between *us*."
Blair seemed to trip on a rough
patch of air and his body lurched forward. He shot out his right hand for
balance and Jim caught it, steadying him. Blair blinked twice, then said
Jim watched as a cloud passed
over the handsome features and he hoped that when his heart reached his knees -
some kind soul would kick it back upstairs where it belonged.
"No, no, not at all."
Then realizing how that must have sounded to Jim, he hastened to add, "I
was just a bit disappointed."
Somehow Jim managed *not* to
squeak as he repeated, "Disappointed?"
"Well, yeah, I mean - a
*date*, Jim? A date?"
His voice rose on the second
"Jeez, man, we've been
living together for...."
They both finished with grins....
Laughing with Blair, Jim felt his
heart backstroking happily upstream.
"So what you're saying is
that dating might be - anti-climatic?"
"So no date."
"Hey, dates are fine - for
other people. But not for us."
"What if I wanted to woo
"You'd be wasting a whole
lot of woo."
"So you can be had?"
"So no wooing."
"Maybe *I* want to be
Jim grinned broadly and inched
closer to Sandburg. Smiling back, Blair did his own inching.
"You don't seem all that
surprised by this, Chief."
"Jim, the world is round and
two ships passing in the night are bound to come face to face in the daylight -
eventually. If they keep moving."
Jim tilted his head to the left
and made a motion with his hand as if trying to dislodge water from his ear, or
maybe a bull elephant.
"You just topped the
"Yeah, cool, ain't it? Bet
it didn't squelch your lust one iota either, did it?"
Jim snorted, then hooked his
index finger behind the waistband of Sandburg's jeans and tugged. The jeans -
*and* Sandburg - came easily.
"So, we're really gonna do
this?" he asked, smiling down at the upturned face.
"Would appear so, and man,
are you in for a treat."
"Shy and retiring, too. Now
are we gonna do something here or jaw all night? I have exams to grade."
"Oh, we're gonna do
something all right and as for treats, well, hold onto your seat, buddy
The first kiss cut the second
yadda off at the knees. The second and third kiss were accompanied by frenzied
hands ripping and tearing at clothes, stripping the eager bodies down to skin.
The fourth kiss found Jim Ellison flat on his back, Blair Sandburg on top of
him, tongue buried nicely in his mouth.
A small part of Jim's brain was
still functioning on the human thought level and he remembered Blair reading
from some romance novel that a date had left behind, and as Sandburg had doubled
over in laughter, he'd read, "Rod's silky tongue caressed her most private
parts, sending her...."
Silky. Blair's tongue *was*
Jim distinctly remembered
laughing with Blair over the *silky tongue*.
He wouldn't laugh anymore. Nor would he tell Sandburg that he had a silky
tongue. Blair did, but he didn't need to *know* it. Wouldn't, probably,
appreciate knowing. But God, Jim certainly appreciated it.
Silky, quick, artful,
unstoppable, relentless, probing ... and Jim knew that if Blair so much as
Smiling into the kiss, Blair
rubbed the palm of his hand against the hard bulge in Jim's jeans....
Ellison came, body thrusting up
hard, a muted groan torn from his throat.
"Fountain of Youth."
Blair lifted his head from Jim's
shoulder and in typical genius fashion, said, "uh?"
"You're the Fountain of
"I knew that." Then,
"But maybe you'd better explain for those of us who *didn't* know."
"I just regressed to the age
of sixteen. Horny and too fast out of the gate."
Blair's chuckle reverberated
through Jim's chest and tickled his heart.
It was the weirdest and greatest
sensation of his sentinel life.
"Do that again."
Blair immediately moved his hand
to Jim's groin, let his fingers walk through the nest of hair and just as he was
about to wrap them around Jim's dick, the older man swatted the eager hand away
and said, "Not that, you idiot, the chuckling. Do *that* again."
"You are so weird,
"Just do it."
"Well, you gotta give me
something to chuckle about, you know? I don't just *chuckle*, I have to have a
"Simon in a tu-tu."
The laughter burst from Sandburg
before he could stop it. The tingling sensation exploded, sending bolts of pure
pleasure throughout Jim's body. The sound echoed within the chamber of his
heart, traveled to fingers and toes via his veins and arteries, brought goose
bumps to his skin and even his lips tickled.
Scratch that thought. The
sensation of Blair's laughter morphing its way into Jim's body had just hit said
"I think I'm discovering
something about this sentinel thing you need to test, Chief."
Head nestled back between the
soft juncture between shoulder and pecs, Blair asked softly, "Yeah?
"That's it? That's all you
have to say? I offer up my body for testing and the King of lab rats says,
*yeah, what*? You're slipping, Sandburg." "No, not slipping, just -
Jim glanced down at the curly
head on his shoulder, his neck and chin meeting as he tried to angle his head to
get a look at Sandburg's eyes. Failing
that, he asked, "Waiting?"
"Uh-huh. *Waiting*. I'm a
firm believer in reciprocation. I'm *waiting* for you to reciprocate, you putz."
Odd. All this time, concentrating
on the *sound* of Sandburg and he'd failed to notice the *feel* of Sandburg - as
in one semi-hard dick pushed against his thigh.
Oops. Not good. Not good at all.
"Oh, yeah, I'm sixteen all
over again. Getting my rocks off and leaving behind the...."
"Spare me the details. And
you were sixteen the first time?"
"Tell me you don't want to
hear that *now*?"
"I don't want to hear that
"Thank you. So, where was
"I can tell you where you
With that, he placed his hand
over Blair's dick. And waited.
"Uh, Jim? You gonna do
"I *am* doing something. I'm
"Placing your hand *on* my
dick is not reciprocating, Jim."
"Hey! That's all you did for
"Oh, really? I distinctly
remember a deep, probing, mind-altering kiss - I'm famous for those, you know,
and then I did - this," he placed *his* hand on Jim's dick, allowing his
palm to press gently, then rub....
Jim's hips bucked and his dick,
already awake and lively, thanks to the laughing Sandburg, really stood up and
As quickly as his palm had given
pleasure, Blair pulled it away, then flopped over on his back, hands behind his
head. He started whistling.
Until a large detective-like body
dropped down on him....
mind-altering kiss, Sandburg? Try this one on for size...."
Mouth suddenly invaded, Blair
could do nothing more than hold on... and enjoy. Hail the conquering invader!
Jim let his senses engulf the man
below him, allowed his sense of touch to experience every taste bud, tooth and
slick cheek, and as he let the flavor of the kiss overwhelm him, he pressed his
body down and into Blair's, gave a mental jump for joy when legs parted and one
came up, knee digging into his side....
Blair was rolling his back,
almost rocking as he brought up his other leg and latched onto Jim's strong
body. The extraordinary feel of his dick rocking against Jim's, the man's
tongue, their kiss, the way Jim was holding his head, fingers buried deep in his
hair, gave Blair the sense of being - owned, possessed, wanted, and owning and
possessing in return. He controlled the motion of their bodies, but *Jim*
Blair's heart started beating
wildly and he tightened his hold on Jim, with both his legs and his arms. Never
letting go, he thought, never....
The change in his bed partner
finally made itself known to Jim. Carefully,
lovingly, he pulled away, ending the kiss, his eyes roving over the face below,
frowning at what looked like - tears - at the corner of scrunched up, closed
"blair?" His whisper
sounded almost painfully loud to him but when Sandburg's eyes opened, Jim's
"stupid, uh? so
stupid," Blair muttered, eyes flicking away from Jim.
Blair's face had always mirrored
every emotion the man was feeling, and now those emotions were so *there*, so
visible, so *about* Jim, that Ellison found himself unable to breathe.
*He loved me so fucking much.
Sometimes he'd hold me hard, you know?
Like he thought I'd disappear, or
something. Like - I'd leave him.
Or kick him out....*
Detective Rawlings words. About
his lover, Kevin. His dead lover.
And photographs. Of the tortured,
violated Kevin. And of Blair Sandburg.
The next victim....
Jim took Blair's face between his
two hands and turned the head until Blair *had* to look at him, *had* to.
"Never. Never leaving. Never
gonna lose me. Never gonna lose *you*.
Never. Do you understand, Blair?
Do you believe?"
Words spoken harshly in
gentleness, demandingly spoken, convincingly spoken.
Blair nodded, robbed of all words
by the intensity of Jim's gaze and *his* words.
"Say it, Chief. Say it
Tears that had been hiding in the
corners of Blair's eyes - now slid down his cheeks as he did as Jim commanded.
"I believe you. Never. Never
leaving. Never gonna lose me. Never gonna lose *you*. Never."
Gentle kiss, lips barely
touching, almost unsure, eyes wide, then....
"i love you, blair sandburg."
"i love you, jim ellison...
but please," blue eyes started twinkling with mischief as Blair went on,
"could you get back to the reciprocation, please? i'm really into your
The corners of Jim's mouth turned
up as his eyes crinkled with his smile.
"I can do that."