Title: Romeo and Jules

Author/pseudonym: alyjude

Email: alyjude@webtv.net

Rating: NC17

Pairing: B/J (see? I reversed it, just to prove I can be different)

Category: First time

Status: New, complete

Date: July 15, 2000

Series/sequel: Yes, in a way. Part three of my Seduction Series. Each is a stand alone and started with An Innocent Man, then Bandaid and now this one. All can be found at: www.skeeter63.org/k9kennel

Disclaimer: I would never disclaim Jim and Blair! Why the very idea!

Really. Tsk-tsk.

Warning: If you get up on the wrong side of the bed, there are two rules to remember:

1)Make sure the wall is on the other side

2)If you can't make sure the wall is on the other side, make sure Jim is.

Summary: Wherein Blair tries to get Jim to see him.

Thank you Michelle for being my cyberelf and providing me with a home for my stories. I can never say thank you enough. And again, thanks welp! :))


Romeo and Jules

by alyjude


Jim Ellison sleeps with men. But he falls in love with women.

So where does that leave me, Blair Sandburg?

Yeah, I'm a guy. Notes to the contrary. Don't let the long hair fool ya. Or the earrings. I have chest hair, a prominent adam's apple and a five o'clock shadow that begins at noon. I'm also the official spider killer in our little home.

I'm a man's man.

Well, a sensitive man's man. A talky man's man. But a man's man, nevertheless.

I'm just not Jim's man.

Or woman.

But I really have to make him see me.


And how differently would that be?



Blair paused in his writing...then started up again.



Well, radically different.

More than his best friend, more than his roommate, more than his partner.

More than just a man.

I wonder how I would look in heels?



His pen paused on the dot of the question mark, then he lifted it and began to tap it against the table. Repeatedly.

Damn. He really hated it when he got these ideas. These evil, almost Lucy Ricardo plans.

His mother used to call them, Sandburgian Plots and that's when he was ten fucking years old.

He grinned wickedly because ten years old or not, they'd always worked. And this was his best yet. Or worse, depending on which end of the idea a man was exposed to....

For Blair Sandburg - the best.

For James Joseph Ellison - the worse.

The grin faded. This one might be too Sandburgian - even for the inventor.

The grin slipped back. Too Sandburgian? Not hardly.

He closed his journal with a satisfying thunk, placed it back in its hidden slot in his desk, got up and plopped down on his bed.

This was going to take some - planning. And he had to be subtle. Very subtle.

Crap. Now that worried him. Blair Sandburg, subtle? Not in this century.

Yet - for this, his ultimate goal, the prize to end all prizes, he could be so subtle - he'd be invisible.




Sandburgian Day 1 - Saturday


Jim glanced at his companion.

Something was wrong. But damn if he could put a finger on it.

He'd been running errands all day but had agreed to drop off and pick up his wayward partner at the U anytime after four, and following that, they'd eat at Mave's Diner, a once a month tradition.

Jim hadn't seen the man that morning, but now...yep, something was - off.

He gave the younger man another once over; Okay, Blair looked the same - well, except for the no layer look he was currently sporting.

So the same, he looked the same - and yet....

"I don't think I've ever seen you in white jeans, Chief."

Blair turned away from the view and said, "Oh?"

His expression was - different. Sort of - mild. Jim didn't like it.

"Well, no biggie of course."

"I wouldn't think so, Jim. No, Blair Sandburg wearing white jeans wouldn't be a biggie in anyone's calendar of events." He smiled - mildly.

That was it. Jim had it now. Blair looked --- younger. He smirked, proud that he'd pinned it down. He turned his attention back to traffic as the signal changed to green.

"Did you hear about Wally, in Traffic?"

"Mm, no. What about Wally in Traffic, Jim?"

"Bette had triplets."

"How sweet."

Another signal went red, Jim slowed. And glanced at his partner.

"Well, sweet isn't the word I'd have used, Sandburg."

Blair smiled again - mildly, and hummed a bit, his eyebrow arching - mildly.

Jim frowned. "Yes, well, anyway."

The signal changed.

"Um, Jim?"

Blair's voice was light, questioning, almost - sing-songy.

"What?" Jim demanded.

"Just thought - I mean, the light. Green." He smiled that maddeningly mild grin again.

Jim gunned it. When he looked back, the younger man had his elbow propped on the armrest, chin palmed and was staring happily out the window. Jim's eyes went back to the road. Then back to Sandburg. Blair slowly fingered a bit of hair behind his ear.

"Sandburg, what's that?"

"What, Jim?"

Sweet, that was it. His voice was sweet.

Jim stammered out, "Your ear, Sandburg, your ear."

Fingers played lightly with said ear as Blair tilted his head. "It's an ear, Jim. Why?"

"In. The. Ear," Jim hissed out.

"An earring, Jim. Just a plain old earring."

"Number one, you haven't worn any earrings in months and when you did, they were those gold loops. That is not a loop."

"No, Jim, this," he twirled the small jewel in his ear, "is called a stud."

"I know what they're called, Sandburg. What I don't know is where the fuck it came from?"

"My jewel case, of course."

Damn that smile to hell.

Jim compressed his lips and went back to concentrating on the road.

"Jim? What's number two?"




"I'll have the chili size, extra onions and a Heineken."

The waitress turned to Sandburg, who was still perusing the menu.


He bit his lower lip.

"Sandburg? Your order?"

"Just can't seem to make up my mind. Everything looks so good."

The waitress smiled benignly.

"Um." He fingered another errant curl behind the adorned ear. Jim drummed his fingers on the Formica tabletop. The waitress continued to smile.

"You know, I think I'll have the Chef's Salad, but could you scratch the ham and make it turkey instead, and the house dressing on the side?"

The waitress, whose name tag identified her as Sarah, smiled and said between gum popping, "Sure, no problem." With a huge smile, he handed over his menu and added, "And a diet coke please?"

"You got it sweetie." She walked off with a wink. Blair sighed and smiled at his partner. Who was staring at him.


"So many choices? And you choose the Chef's Salad?"

"Now Jim, they had twelve different salads and then there was the grilled chicken breast with cottage cheese and...."

"Cottage cheese, Chief?!?!"

"Low calorie."

Jim Ellison blinked. Four times.

Blair started to hum softly.

Their food arrived and suddenly the chili size looked huge. He gulped down his beer and ordered another.

"Damn." Blair dipped the corner of his napkin into his ice water and concentrated on a small spot of dressing that had landed on his salmon colored shirt. "Just bought this. Wouldn't you know."

Jim blinked five times and ordered another beer.

"Not too hungry?" Sarah peered down at him. He shook his head as he pushed his plate of cold chili toward her. "Could you box it up?"

"Sure." She turned her brilliant smile on Blair and asked sweetly, "You done, honey?"

He grinned and nodded. She took the dishes, quirked her head at Jim's now empty glass and at his nod, she walked off whistling. A minute later she was back with his beer, the carton and their bill.

"You must really be thirsty tonight, Jim."

"Ya think, Sandburg?"

Blair sat back, sufficiently cowed. He glanced away.

Jim threw back the beer, picked up the bill, glanced at it, pulled out his wallet, plucked out a few bills and tossed the whole thing onto the table. Carton in hand, he stood and started walking out. Blair slid out and hurried after him.

"Keys, Jim?"

The man's eyes narrowed, but he handed them over.




Sandburgian Day Two - Sunday


He'd been awakened by something vague.

Pulling on his robe, Jim stumbled downstairs, barely awake. His foot hit the bottom step and froze.

Vague hell.

Jim rubbed his eyes, then re-opened them.

Candles surrounded the whole friggin loft. All colors, all shapes, all sizes, but all with one, light soothing scent.

What the fuck? He checked his watch.

Six-thirty. AM.

All right, where was he? The culprit? The soon to be dead culprit.


He could hear - humming.

Warily and not a little unsteadily, Jim approached the middle of the living room. Blair, the soon to be dead Blair, came into view.

He was seated, cross-legged on the floor, having pushed the coffee table toward the windows. His arms were resting on his thighs, fingers templed. His eyes were closed and yes, he was humming.

He was also - naked.

Completely - totally - naked.

In the living room, at six-thirty in the morning, on a Sunday.

Jim stubbed his toe. On nothing.

He swore, under his breath, and moved closer.

He'd never seen Blair Sandburg - unclothed.

He was just getting a good eyefull when the man in question slowly let his arms rise....

....clasped his fingers above his head, tilted his neck back and arched languidly. He shook his head, loose curls whoosing easily. Then he stood and stretched slowly - almost sensually.

Jim started choking.

Blair whirled, eyes flying open.

"Jim! You okay?" He moved quickly to Jim's side, one hand outstretched to help, but Jim waved him off and backed up, still choking and gasing, face turning red.

"can....candles...," he sputtered, not in the least ashamed of his lie.

Blair cocked his head and frowned slightly. "Oh, dear, I was so sure the scent on these candles wouldn't bother you. They never have before."

He started to move past Jim as he said gently, "Don't worry, I'll extinguish them. So very sorry."

Unable to control his traitorous eyes, he followed the naked man as he started to blow out the candles. Followed the muscular back, the lightly swaying hips, the gentle movement of those firm, round...

"All done, Jim. Maybe you should wait out on the balcony for a bit?

Until the scent is gone?"

Jim came hurtling back to earth.

Spluttering, he nodded, "yes, ye...eys, maybe...i shou..dld."

He made his way to the balcony, pushed open the windows and stepped out.

He closed them after him.

Smiling contentedly, Blair walked into his room, slipped on a pair of old, faded cutoffs and walked back out. He got the coffee on, then collected the candles and stashed them back in his room.

When the loft smelled only of hot, fresh brewed coffee, he strolled to the windows, pushed one open and stuck his head out.

"I think it's safe now, Jim. Got some coffee going." He smiled brilliantly and added, "You must be freezing."

Jim gave a little nod and followed his partner inside, eyes glued to the rear of a pair of cutoffs he'd never seen.


Blair gave Jim a quizzical look. "Cutoffs, Jim?"

"You're wearing - cutoffs."

"Why yes I am. From our old college car wash days." Blair reached up to Jim's face and held the back of his hand to Jim's forehead. "You're not running a fever. Maybe this is a sentinel thing?"

Jim blinked. "What the fuck are you talking about, Sandburg?"

"Yesterday, the white jeans, today, the cutoffs."

"Sandburg, in three years, I've never seen you in white jeans or cutoffs. Okay?"

"Whatever you say, Jim. Let's get you that coffee."

Before Blair shifted away, Jim's eyes were captured by a jaw. Firm, squard, stubble covered jaw. His eye kept going. Landed on the neck. The adam's apple. Then the hair, and against his will, his eyes followed that chest hair down, across, down again....

Surely he could fire his eyes.




He couldn't sleep. It was after midnight.

Jim flipped over, raised his head and punched his pillow. He dropped back down and sighed.

He closed his eyes.

Naked Blair. Naked Blair's everywhere.

He opened his eyes. No naked Blair.

He lifted his head again, punched again. Hard.

Ridiculous. It was ridiculous. He flipped onto his stomach. Back on his back. He sighed again.

God damn. This was Blair. His partner. Roomie. Whatever.

His mentor? Guide, back-up, what -*ever*.

What he wasn't - was his lover. Or boyfriend. Or significant other.

Did he just say boyfriend?

Could a forty year old man have a boyfriend?

God damn, his dick was hard.




Sandburgian Day Three: Monday


Tucking in his pale blue flannel shirt over his dark blue turtleneck, Blair came out of his room. His hair was tied back, his ear - earringless. And he had on a pair of Dockers. Navy blue Dockers.

Jim closed his eyes and sent up a prayer of thankfulness.

"Morning, Jim."

"Sandburg. We interview Watson today."

Stricken, Blair glanced up. "Shit, Jim. I can't go with you. I took Stella's class today. I won't be in until after one. Didn't I tell you on Friday?"

"No, you didn't tell me on Friday. But I'll survive without you." Jim grabbed his jacket and stifled his anger at no Sandburg and no breakfast.

"I have no doubt of that, Jim," Blair answered softly. Frowning, Jim gave Blair another look, but the younger man was already at the table, head down, gathering up his books. Jim pretended that he hadn't noticed the slightly shaking hands.

When the door shut, Blair glanced up and - smirked.




"Officer, I'm telling you, I don't have any tickets, let alone twelve!"

"Well, guess what, Mr. Sandburg? My computer tells me differently. And according to this, you have not one, not two, but three bench warrants issued. Is this your lucky day or what?" Now, step out of the car."

Careful to keep his hands in clear view, Blair stepped out and onto the shoulder. He couldn't believe this. He was about to be arrested.

He was about to be - arrested. Fingerprinted.


A slow grin spread across his face.

He was about to become a - common criminal. My, my.

"You find this funny?"

"Oh, no Officer. Not funny at all. No sir."




This was - unfuckingbelievable. Blair was in jail.

IN - JAIL. His fucking partner.

He slammed the truck door and stormed into the small station. He strode to the counter.

"Blair Sandburg."

The officer lifted his head and said, "What can I do for you, Mr.


Ice blue eyes narrowing, Jim said, "I'm here for Blair Sandburg. He was arrested over a couple of hours ago."

With great calm, the officer clicked on the mouse by his hand and studied the computer screen two inches in front of his face.

"Ah, yes. Blair Sandburg. Three bench warrants." The officer made eye contact again and added, "Would you be his lawyer?"

"No, I would be his partner. And why the hell would he have three bench warrants against him?"

"It would appear he has chosen to ignore several parking tickets. That would certainly do it, Mr?"

"Detective Jim Ellison."

Jim had to give the officer credit. He didn't even blink.

"Well, doesn't that beat all?"

"My partner hasn't received any tickets for as long as I've known him.

He doesn't get tickets."

"His employer wouldn't agree and neither would the courts. According to this, he has twelve parking tickets issued for parking in the handicapped zone at Imagidyne."

"His employer is Rainier University where he is a teaching fellow and doctoral candidate. And when he isn't there, he's with me, serving in his capacity as an official observer and consultant with Major Crime."

For the first time, the man in blue showed some discomfiture.

Jim pressed his advantage. "Do you have copies of the tickets here?"

The man frowned. Jim had the rude impulse to spell out his request, but through great strength of will, he fought it down. The officer stood.

"Sir, if you'll just have a seat, I'll confer with my Sargeant."

Jim smiled. "Thank you."

Ten minutes later, the officer returned, with his superior, Sargeant Willis. The man extended his hand. "Detective Ellison. Good to meet you in person. I'm Sargeant Willis and it would appear that there has indeed been an error."

Jim shook, his smile fixed. "So you're bringing Sandburg out now?"

"Well, you know how these things go. Red tape, confirmation, etc." He finished lamely, knowing full well that the man opposite was not in the least bit impressed. He went on hurridedly, hoping to forstall a scene.

"It seems that when someone entered the drivers license number of the real - er, violater, a couple of numbers were transposed? And of course, the new system immediately attached the tickets to..."

"To my partner. And the someone who entered the number, failed to check the tickets against their printout before engraving it in stone and issuing warrants."

"In a word - yes."

"But of course, you, realizing that I am an officer of the law, would feel perfectly comfortable releasing my partner into my custody while the wheels of justice turn. Correct?" He smiled. It was not a pleasant smile.

The sargeant sighed. "Of course, Detective. Why don't you come back with me now?"




Doors were buzzed, gates clanged open and Jim was inside the main holding area. He concentrated and immediately identified his partner.

"If you'll just hang on a minute, I'll find out which cell and we....."

"Never mind, I've got him. Just get the door open."

In a few long strides, he was at another cell door, and a voice was booming to let Detective Ellison pass. His objective came into view.

There were five other occupants of Blair's cell and while Jim would never have admitted it to anyone, he'd been worried sick about the idea of Blair Sandburg in any jail. His first glance confirmed his worse fears.

Five, big, massive, men. Tattoos. Leather.


At second glance:

On the bunk. Blair. Hair down, sleeves pushed and rolled up, right leg crossed over the knee as he leaned forward, right elbow resting on his thigh, finger on his lips. One big bruiser had his shirt pulled up, revealing his back and he was pointing.

"Oh, my yes. I see what you mean. Now that is one terrific snake. And the colors. So vivid."

"Wait, kid, you ain't seen nothing yet. Check this out." Another bruiser was immediately unzipping and pulling massive jeans down a huge butt to expose the largest rose Jim had ever seen. Tattooed to the guy's left ass cheek.

"Now exactly how many shades of red did they use, Shifty?"

The man in question answered proudly, "Four.

Couldn't sit down for a week, but it was worth it."

The man with the snake pushed the other guy aside and said rather petulantly, "Look, I have over eight colors in this damn snake and he's over two fucking feet long!"

A third giant jabbed his elbow into snakeman's stomach and said, "Watch your fucking language around the kid, you asshole."

Jim had had enough.


The head turned and innocent blue eyes blinked. "Hey, Jim. You're here.

Is this a kick or what? Did they tell you? Twelve tickets, man. Twelve."

Jim looked over his shoulder at the man hurrying up the aisle. "Get this door open.


A key was inserted, a button pushed and the jail cell slid open. Blair stood.

"Well, guys, gotta go. Seems I've been busted outta here. You take care."

Shifty smiled and said sincerely, "You too Blair."

"Yeah, take care of yourself."

Snakeman took Blair's arm, leaned in and whispered, "Listen, if that asshole," he jerked his head, indicating Jim, "gives you any grief, you know who to call."

Blair patted his hand and smiled winningly.

"Thanks Brutus. I've got your number."

"You wanna tell me what that was all about, Sandburg?"

"Twelve tickets, Jim. You know that."

"I'm talking about snakeman."

They were walking down the long corridor to sign Sandburg out and retrieve his belongings and Jim's strides were long enough that Blair had to almost trot to keep up. The small muscle in Jim's jaw, the one he used to eat Wonderburgers, was currently working overtime.

"Oh, Brutus," Blair huffed. "He thinks I'm in an abusive relationship and gave me his card. You know, in case I start looking for a sensitive, caring kinda guy."

Jim came to an abrupt halt. Blair slammed into him.

Blair righted himself and moved around to face his frozen partner.


Ellison was looking down, but clearly not focused. His mouth was hanging open but at least the muscle in his jaw had stopped throbbing. But then, there was the small vein in his left temple....

....not good, not good at all. He could stroke out or something. Brain fade was another possibility. Blair put his hands on Jim's arms, which were hanging limply at his side.

"Jim, hey, you aren't, like, you know?"

Jim's mouth snapped shut. His eyes blinked and the vein slowed down to healthier jaunt.

"No," he hissed out, "I'm not. And just where would he get the idea that you were in an abusive relationship? And who are you in this relationship with and why would he believe that you were in the market for a sensitive and caring man?"

"Gee, I don't know and no one and because isn't everyone?"

Wrong thing to say. The vein started to gallop again. And damn, the Wonderburger muscle was trotting along nicely too.

"And actually, Jim. They all gave me their numbers. I have quite a collection."

Jim rolled his eyes heavenward, then back down. Blair was looking up at him, eyes sparkling with mirth. Something connected, shifted, then disappeared as quickly as it had arrived. Jim blinked and the world was once again - normal.

"Come on, let's get out of here before you get propositioned."

"Too late. Two propostions and three proposals of marriage."




"What about my car, Jim?"

"We'll pick it up at the Impound lot."

Blair was signing for his possessions and as the officer emptied the envelope, he groaned. "Just tell me I don't have to ransom it. Just tell me that."

"You don't have to ransom it."

An hour later a very disgruntled Sandburg was making out a check for $65.

"You said I wouldn't have to do this, Jim."

"You told me to tell you wouldn't have to do this. I told you."

Jim expected the typical Sandburg explosion. It didn't come. Instead, Blair gave him a small frown as he sighed heavily. With shoulders sagging, he moaned out, "I know." And sighed again.

Jim suddenly felt a heel. A grade A, number one heel. And that angered him but he didn't have a clue as to why.

Blair started to tear out the check, but Jim stopped him by placing a hand on the back of Sandburg's. "No, I'll take care of that." He pulled out his wallet and dished out three twenties and a five and placed it on the counter.

"Jim, you don't have to do that. I'm the one that got arrested."

His answer was a gruff, "Yeah, well I'll be reimbursed."

Pocketing the receipt, he gave Sandburg a little push, edging him out the door. "Let's get your car and get out of here."

Blair meekly followed. If Jim had been graced with Sentinel vision in the back of his head, he'd have seen the definite sparkle in his partner's eyes.




Home Sweet, Sandburgian Home


Jim rode up in the elevator, his arms full of groceries. He was smiling broadly. In the bags rested steaks, corn, wine and salad fixings.

When the two men had finally left the impound, it had been decided, by Jim, that Sandburg would go home and rest after his ordeal while Jim finished up at the station. He also assured his roommate that in spite of it being his turn to cook, Jim would happily bring home the bacon.

Now, three hours later, with the bacon in the form of two Porterhouse steaks and visions of barbecuing filling his mind, he exited the elevator - whistling.

As he entered his home, he was surprised to see Blair sitting in the living room. No televison, no stereo, just - sitting.

Jim set the groceries down and addressed his quiet friend. "Uh, Chief?"

"Yes, Jim?"

"Everything all right? You seem - quiet."

"I can be quiet, you know."

"Hey, no offense. Just, well, is anything wrong?"


Jim, suddenly unsure of himself and his partner, decided to rely on keeping busy. He started to unpack the groceries. "I got steaks for tonight. Thought we'd barbecue. First one of the summer, you know?"

"Sounds great, Jim."

Feeling more uncertain, he paused, steaks in hand. He stood a few moments, then placed the meat on the sink and walked hesitantly into the living room.

"Uh." He scratched his jaw. "Thought, maybe, you'd do your special herb grilled corn."

Blair stood and headed into the kitchen. Jim watched helplessly as the younger man passed him.



Sandburg opened a cupboard and took down a couple of bags of dried herbs, then picked up the bottle of virgin olive oil. Jim grabbed up the stalks of corn and handed them to him. As Blair's hand reached out, a brief coldness touched Jim's heart.

"Sandburg, nothing happened, I mean, while you were, you know, in jail?"

The corn was taken with a brief smile as Blair quipped, "Well, I do have a better appreciation for The Pulverizer. I never knew it was such a hot joint."

The Pulverzier? The gay bikers bar? Jim's shocked expression prompted Blair to add, "Shifty and the others. Arrested for trying to tear it apart. Again. I guess they get tossed out on a regular basis."

Jim marshalled his thoughts a bit and shrugged his shoulders. "The place is okay. Not exactly intimate, if you know what I mean. And it gets trashed at least once a week."

Blair had started to strip the corn, but now stopped to stare at his companion and with a surprised arch of his eyebrow, said, "Why, Jim, I had no idea you'd actually been there."

"I - I, haven't exactly been there - exactly."

"Not exactly, Jim? How not exactly?"

Ellison had the head of lettuce in his hand and at Blair's words, he set it down and headed toward the balcony and the barbecue.

"You know, if I don't get the coals going, we won't eat until midnight."

"Uh, Jim? We don't have that kind of barbecue. It's, you know, propane."

Jim barely broke his stride.




The steaks were perfectly cooked, the corn sweet, hot and a bit spicy, the salads cold and crisp, the wine a perfect complement. Jim and Blair ate in silence.

Throughout the meal, Jim kept darting unobtrusive glances at his friend who seemed blissfully unaware of the scrutiny as he ate quietly but heartily.

Jim, whose mood had been ecstatic, found that now, it was - muted. And the silence was killing him, and watching Blair eat was killing him.

Watching him bite down on the corn, then licking his fingers.....

....watching his eyes close with each bite of steak, or those lips close over the rim of the windglass....and watching his throat as the liquid traveled down....

Fuck. He was fucking hard again.

He swallowed. Everything was wrong. And he wanted it right again. He spoke without thinking.

"Who the hell are you, Sandburg?"

The wineglass, half way to Blair's mouth, paused.


He was a runaway train now.

"Who the fucking hell are you?"

The glass returned to the table. Blair took his napkin and dabbed at his mouth. He set it down. "Jim, I'm confused here. Three years and you have to ask? Maybe I should be hurt as well."

A runaway train about to charge over a cliff.

"Why don't you just answer the fucking question?"

"You know who I am."

Jim should have been warned by the tone, but he wasn't. Blair stood, dishes in hand, and walked into the kitchen. He scraped the plates, rinsed them and the glass, then stuck them into the dishwasher. He dried his hands, walked into his room and shut the door.

The train hit the bottom.




The television flickered in the dark room. Jim sat in the corner of the couch, remote in hand, eyes glazing over.

The french doors opened and bare feet padded across the floor. He didn't need sentinel senses to know that Blair had stopped just behind the couch. He ignored him, too confused to deal with the man.

"You sleep with men, but you fall in love with women, Jim."

Blair padded back to his room and quietly shut the door.

Jim Ellison had never experienced a migraine before, but people had described them to him.

They'd described seeing the world through a jagged edged lens, the pain, knifing through the brain.

He could now say that he knew exactly what they'd been talking about.

He was surrounded by jagged edges now.

The television had jagged edges, the window, the walls, his feet, propped up on the coffee table had rough, jagged edges.

He gazed at his right hand. Jagged, dangerous edges.

He rose and walked slowly upstairs. Stairs with jagged edges.

He undressed and slipped under the covers.

Covers with dangerous, rough, ragged, jagged edges.

His skylight had jagged edges.

He shut his eyes and saw only a naked Blair, smiling. No jagged edges.

Just rough, masculine lines.









He opened his eyes just as a paperclip landed on his mouth.




Another paperclip landed on the blanket by his hand.

Plink. A paperclip landed on the floor.

A husky and very masculine voice floated up with the next paperclip.

Which landed on his forehead.

"Fair James."

Jim's forehead crinkled and the paperclip slid down his nose.

"But, soft, what light through yonder bed railing breaks? It is the east and fair James is the sun."

Jim picked up the paperclip and tossed it over the railing.

It landed with a gentle plunk.

"Ah, fair James is awake."

Jim grinned. "Fair James is going to bust your ass."

"He speaks! O, speak again bright angel. And sweet James, thou promises, but so seldom delivers."

Jim rolled over and out, stood and peered down.

Blair stood below, wearing only a pair of briefs. Black briefs. His hair was down and from his left nipple gleamed a small, silver loop.

Somehow, Jim managed to say calmly, "I have never once promised to bust your ass."

"Beautiful James, thou speaketh the truth. Thou has only promised to kick it."

Jim chuckled. "Can't argue that." He stayed where he was, still uncertain.

Blair smiled a sad smile up at him. "Do you see me yet, Jim?"

The jagged edges smoothed out as his partner crystallized before him. His partner, his friend, his conscience, his guide through the labyrinth of his senses, his shoulder, his brace, his soul and yes, his other half. His - heart.

"I see you, Blair."

"Well, it's about fucking time. Do I come up or do you come down?"

"I distinctly remember Romeo did the climbing."

"Sure, sure and doesn't Mohammed always come to the mountain?"

Blair managed not to run up.

When he reached the top, he stopped.

Jim had moved to the end of his bed and stood there, smiling at him, and damn, Blair was suddenly nervous.

"Black briefs, Chief?"

"And silk, Jim. This represents my seducing James Ellison underwear."

"That's the idea here? Seducing me?"

"It was. But I've kinda reconsidered. I've decided that you should seduce me."

"I'm - up for that."

"Why yes you are."

Jim took the required steps to bring him up close and personal with his Romeo. He reached out with one finger and trailed it down Blair's right arm, enjoying the sinewy muscles, feeling them flex as his finger moved over them.

He enjoyed the small bumps of pleasure that erupted on Blair's skin at his touch. His finger ended its journey at Blair's open hand, resting against his palm. Slowly, he let his other fingers join with Blair's.

"I've never been in love before, Chief. Until now."

Fingers still clasped, Blair's left hand came up and he ran it down Jim's side, ending on his hip, under the waistband of Jim's boxers.

"You love me, Jim?"

"Yes. I love you."

"And you know who I am?"

"I know."

"And do you know who you are?"

Jim smiled that smile and nodded. "I know. I'm Blair Sandburg's....."

"...boy toy."

Jim threw back his head and laughed freeing abandon.

Blair just enjoyed the view and the sound.

When Jim had calmed a bit, he choked out, "A bit old to be anyone's boytoy, Chief. I was going to say....that I'm Blair Sandburg's Sentinel."

"Why don't we say that you're just Blair Sandburg's?"

"I'm Blair Sandburg's."

Blair pushed Jim toward the bed and when the older man hit the edge, Blair gave another smaller push and Jim went down.

Blair had been planning this moment for days, but now that it was here, all ideas, fantasies and visions flew out the window. Suddenly what he thought he'd wanted, was something entirely different.

"Do you have - everything, Jim?"

Jim nodded, a bit surprised by the question. He'd been expecting a declaration similar to his own.

Blair slipped between Jim's thighs and with one finger, tipped Jim's chin up. "I always top, Jim. I've never - wanted anyone - inside, before. Until - now."

Jim couldn't have asked for a better declaration. His arms came up and around the solid mass that represented his love and he tugged him in close. They kissed, their first kiss and all the things that making love to a man can give another man, hit Jim as if it were his first time.

The rough, demanding lips on his, the tongue, as strong as his own and just as demanding, the stubble, grazing his cheek, his own rasping against Blair's, the delicious sound of the low, guttural moans of his partner, the sheer strength of the muscles that moved arms and legs, that alternately pulled and pushed and demanded....

....nothing could feel this good, would ever feel this good again, except this man, this body.

His hands moved around to grasp the firm buttocks and he almost came at the first touch. Hard and muscular and yet yielding to his touch, he kneaded the roundess through the delicious feel of the silk, let his fingers slide into the crease, felt the immediate response and smiled into the kiss.

Blair pulled away, his breath coming in short pants and he gave Jim a lopsided grin and hissed out, "You tease."

Somehow, that energized them both. The bed was suddenly full of two, writhing men, briefs and boxers ripped from sweaty bodies, hands fumbling in the drawer, supplies tossed out to land, as yet unused, on the bed, but within reach.

Thighs humped against hard cocks, fingers sought out the silky hardness, made themselves familiar, listened for the sounds that told them they were doing it right, and finally, somehow, Blair ended up on his stomach, below Jim.

The older man blanketed the body beneath him, rubbing and sliding, enjoying the trembling muscles, wanting to give this to Blair, astounded that it would be him to do so.

The fear and nervousness Blair had almost immediately experienced as Jim covered his body, as he lost contact with Jim's face, was quickly replaced as he acknowledged that this was Jim. And God, how he wanted this from the man.

But he was in no way prepared for when it actually happened. Minutes of loving, of stroking, of reaching back and capturing Jim's mouth, of Jim's fingers in his hair, rubbing his scalp, teasing his ears, lapping at his throat, suckling at his adam's apple, then his tongue, moving under a mound of hair, resting at his nape, savoring the taste, then down and across his shoulders, his side, even tickling him, teasing him, relaxing him, loving him.

The kisses at the small of his back even as hands spread his ass, tiny words of love, whispered in his ear, his lobe captured, tugged, nipped. Fingers entering him with little awareness, just this heat, this love, this physical burst of passion.

One of Jim's hands slipping below him, under his chest, stroking the chest hair, tweaking the silver loop threaded through his left nipple and the rush of words from his mouth, words urging Jim to hurry, to hurry....to hurry....

And then, his hips were lifted, Blair helping, and Jim was there, there and moving in, slowly and there was pain, but it quickly moved to a good pain, and he wanted more, and he thrust back......

......and Jim filled him.

Dear God.

Dear God forever.

He gripped the sheets, fingers digging in as he lifted his body, as he asked himself how he could have more, how he could take more, but have he did, take he did.

Sweet Jesus.

The fullness, the incredible - bulk - that was Jim's penis, full, hard, aching and inside of him.

Filling him, and he could feel it, feel it all the way to his stomach.

Pierced. Hot.

He rose higher, his upper body now resting on his forearms. He pushed.

Back. Hard.


He did it again. Jim slammed into him. GOD YES.

Slammed in, all the way in, over and over again, and he continued to push, over and over again.

A hand. His dick. A touch. A tug.

HE YELLED and came.

Romeo and Jules - Epilogue

by alyjude


Jim was spread out over his body, the man's legs slightly off to the left.

It was perfect.

His cheek rested against the pillow, a pillow that even now gave him Jim's scent. He spit out a bit of his own hair and sighed happily.

Slight movement and Jim's hands had found his own, fingers interlacing, arms stretched out on either side of the two men.


He could feel Jim's breath, softly inhaled and exhaled, against his neck, and he shivered as a tongue flicked out and lapped up a bit of sweat.

"I'm never topping again, Jules."

"jules?" Jim mumbled into his hair.

"Short for Juliet."

"ah. I always knew Romeo was a bottom."

"He didn't."

A kiss was placed against his temple as Jim shifted slightly.

"So you liked it?"


"I'm good?"

"You didn't just really ask that, did you, Jules?"

"I'm good."


"I should get off of you."


Neither man moved.

Jim unclasped one hand and brought it down to rest on Blair's left hip.

He then moved it across Blair's left ass cheek where he let it stay.

"When I get some energy back, we move you up here, yes?"

"Umm. You'll need more space."

"We go shopping. And this weekend, we'll build you a new book shelf up here."

"*I'll* build me a new bookshelf. Your's would be crooked."

Jim chuckled and bit Blair's ear.

"You do realize that you're officially stuck with me now, right Chief?"

"Stuck in more ways than one."

Jim bit again, this time Blair's throat.

"You have this biting thing. Romeo thinks he'd better not let Jules suck him off."

"You shouldn't have said that, Chief."

"Oh, shit."

"Oh, shittith."




Damn the phone. He was so comfortable too.

He started to move, but an arm reached across him and killed the ringing.


Jim lifted his head. Blair was sprawled across him, phone to his ear.

"Hey, Brutus man, what's up?"

Jim scowled.

"No, no, really, he's a pussycat. Honest."

"No, he never touched me. I wouldn't lie about a thing like that."

"Yeah, Brute, bark worse than bite. Yeah, kinda like you. You wanna talk to him? Oh, okay. Tonight? Oh, I don't think so. Him being a cop and all. Oh, you didn't know that? Well, yeah. He is. Major Crime Division, Cop of the Year, all that crap."

"Well," Blair shifted slightly, "I think you and Shifty make a great couple, Brutus. No, really, I do. Yes, I'm sure Jim feels the same way."

Blair gave Jim a sideways glance, noted the vein and the muscle were both doing their version of the Irish Jig and he grinned.

"A double date? The four of us? Well...."

Jim grabbed the phone and said, "Say good-bye Brutus."

The End