Where Do Fallen Angels Go?

By K9


Blair Sandburg slid out of the Cadillac with all the grace of a cat. He smiled at the driver, and winked as the vehicle pulled away.

"Profitable evening?" a voice asked.

Blair turned around to see a young man leaning against the wall. He smiled widely, "Oh yeah, I wish they were all as easy as that one," he sighed, "I barely touch him, and he comes. I almost feel like charging him half price for only having to do half the work," Blair laughed, "Almost!"

"It's that angelic face of yours, gets 'em every time," the young man smiled.

"Hey, I'm not knocking it. It won't last forever, I'm getting old man," Blair said.

The younger man strolled over, and wrapped his arms around Blair's neck. "No way are you old," he smiled, leaning in for a kiss, "You can outlast me even on a good night."

"Mark, that's called experience, not staying power," Blair grinned, tightening his grip on the slighter figure, "You ready to call it a day yet?"

"Yeah, there's not much happening around here today. Not with that maniac around," Mark sighed.

"You remembered what I told you, about trying to stick to familiar faces?"

"I know, but it's not always possible."

"Come on, let's go home," Blair kissed Mark lightly, and slid his arm protectively around the younger mans shoulder.

"I fancy Mexican tonight," Mark said with an appreciative smile.

"Just had one," Blair grinned.

The slighter figure slapped him on the chest playfully, as they walked away.



The weather was chilly, the skies gloomy, and rain had driven away 'casual' custom. Blair looked around with a feeling of intense boredom.

Today was slow, painfully slow.

It was not being helped by the presence of several large men hanging around whose manner positively screamed 'policeman!'.

Everything about them stank of the law. From their arrogance, and self-righteous posturing to the pitiful way they tried to ask questions like normal human beings, instead of the pathetic excuses for men that they were.

Blair hated the law, and particularly policemen.

He could see Magnus, his pimp, patrolling the area angrily. He looked so pissed; someone was going to pay for this later. Blair just hoped it wasn't him.

He watched as one large man in a blue shirt, and dark pants approached him. If he hadn't known he was the law, he could have considered the man quite attractive.

"I'm Detective Ellison, Cascade PD. I just want to ask you some questions, that okay?" the big cop asked politely.

Blair eyed him suspiciously, "Not really, Detective. You are like *so* bad for business," he smiled coldly.

"I'm sorry about that. But I'm investigating the murder of several of the young male…" Ellison stopped, and looked away.

"Prostitutes, Detective. You can say it…it's not painful," Blair sneered, looking the man up, and down.

Ellison sighed, "the young male 'prostitutes', and I wondered if you'd seen anything unusual?"

"In this job you see the 'unusual' every day, Detective. Occupational hazard," Blair grinned at the big cop's discomfort.

"Okay, anything even more unusual?"

"No. None of my business," Blair replied.

"Young men getting murdered is none of your business?" Ellison said, with an angry edge to his voice.

"We're not exactly choirboys, Detective. Danger comes with the territory," Blair replied irritably.

Ellison's jaw twitched, "This isn't just a case of someone getting roughed up here, these young men are being tortured, and murdered," he said in a low voice.

"Their bad luck," Blair insisted, his eyes cold shards of ice.

Ellison shook his head, and pulled out a card, handing it over, "If you see anything, or hear anything…contact me," he said with a resigned sigh.

"If *you* ever need anything, Detective, you can always contact *me*," Blair grinned seductively.

Ellison regarded the young man for a moment, before walking away in silence.



"You gettin' friendly with that cop, pretty baby?" Magnus said suddenly, from a doorway as Blair strolled along Main St.

Blair automatically cowered slightly, shying away from the bigger man, "No! He was just asking questions about the slice 'em, and dice 'em guy," he said defensively.

"I'd better not find you 'chatting' when you should be working, you fucking lazy little whore, or I'll slam your ass so hard you'll be spitting out your balls," Magnus grabbed the smaller man by the shirt, "Do I make myself clear?"

Blair nodded meekly.

Magnus slammed his fist into Blair's ribs, "Answer me you queer little fuck!"

"Yes, I understand. I'm sorry," The young man gasped, curling over, into the pain.

"No fuckin' manners," Magnus spat as he shoved Blair away angrily, "Get back to work."



"Christ, I hate this job," Jim Ellison sighed.

Police Captain Simon Banks looked across the desk wearily, "You only just realized that?" he asked, shoveling in the last of his take-out.

"No, but today I was down on the corner of fifty-fourth interviewing the male prostitutes about the killings, and they just don't seem to give a damn. This one guy? He must be late teens, or early twenties, though he looks younger. He's good looking, and obviously smart. He's selling himself for a few bucks. If the 'Knifeman' doesn't get him, AIDS probably will before he's thirty. It's just so……"

"Depressing?" Simon suggested.

"That, and so much more," Jim said sadly.

Simon placed the fork in the empty carton, "Jim, you can't choose peoples paths for them, and feeling guilty won't help."

"But some of the kids down there probably aren't Daryl's age. How would you feel if it was him?" Jim asked.

"I'd kill anyone who touched him," Simon replied, "But some of those kids have never had anyone who cares enough to kill for them. Jim, we both know that they're the victims not the criminals, but they don't see it that way, and when it comes down to it, only they can decide to stop doing what they're doing. You can arrest them until you're blue in the face, it won't stop them."

"I know, I know. It's just that damn kid, he got to me today. I never thought that some smart mouthed little hustler could shake me up that way."

"Jim, go home and get some rest. Captain's orders."


"Everything okay?" Blair asked as Mark walked back into the bedroom.

"Yeah, of course, nothing to worry about," Mark smiled sadly," Blair, what's going to happen to me?" he asked sitting down on the side of the bed.

"Nothing!" Blair smiled, reaching out for Mark's hand, "Come on get in, let Uncle Blair ride your fears away," he grinned.

"I don't know what I'd have done without you, Blair. I'd be dead by now if you hadn't picked me up a few weeks ago. Man, I was a mess wasn't I?"

Blair pulled the young man onto the bed, and covered him with his body. "Stop it. I don't want to hear any 'what if's'. You know you're welcome to stay here as long as you want, indefinitely if you want to," he kissed Mark hungrily, "And if I don't fuck you soon, I'll explode!"

What about Magnus?" Mark asked nervously, "I haven't made enough to pay him this week."

"Just leave Magnus to me, and stop worrying. We'll sort something out. I have a couple of guys who might like to see you on a regular basis. They go for younger guys, I'm getting a little 'old' for 'em," Blair laughed.

"Oh man, I can't take your guys, this life's hard enough."

Blair covered the younger man's mouth with his fingers, "Enough. I'll talk to them, doesn't mean they'll agree. Just you let *me* worry about *my* guys. Now come on…let's fuck!"

Mark laughed as Blair tickled him, making him squirm beneath his roommate's more muscular body. The younger man shuffled down, spreading himself open for his lover. Blair lifted Mark's legs aloft placing them on his shoulders; he was already hard, his cock weeping, and engorged. It took only moments to slip on the condom, and lube himself, and Blair was ready to penetrate his mate.

"I want it rough, Blair," Mark gasped as Blair buried himself in his ass.

"You sure?" the older man asked.

Mark nodded his head, "Yes, hard as you can give it…I can take it."

Blair smiled gently before withdrawing, and then pounding himself in, again, and again.

Mark was such a submissive bottom, and he lacked the fire that it took to survive in this business, Blair thought, as the young man screamed, and begged for more, harder.

In his heart Blair feared for Mark. So many took this path without truly knowing what they were up against. It ate your pride, and gnawed away on your soul, this life they'd chosen…or rather that had chosen them. And Blair, in the pit of his stomach, knew that Mark was not cut out for the fear, and hatred that dogged their every moment.

"Blair…oh…yes!" Mark screamed, and thrust as he came, spattering hot semen over them both.

Blair continued to pound into Mark until he too was satisfied, and fell back with a gasp. He reached for the wipes, and cleaned them both. Mark already was drifting into sleep.

Gathering the younger man into his arms, he followed his partner into a dream-world where they were always safe from harm.




It had been a truly shitty day. Jim had chased his tail until he was dizzy. Leads that went no where, witnesses that saw the killer…holding hands with an alien and talking to Elvis. And to really finish it all off, his radio had exploded in the truck, closely followed by the battery in his cell phone expiring.

He'd had it.

Wandering into the PD, he threw down the radio, and headed for the coffee machine.

"Hey, Detective Ellison?" a young officer called, "There's been another murder. The lab boys are there right now. We tried to contact you."

"Yeah, my radio's shot, and the cell decided to choose today to die! Any witnesses?" Jim asked.

The uniformed officer pointed over the room, "Just the  'roommate' who found the body. Smart mouthed little bastard…" he said with distaste.

Jim glanced over at the huddled figure; it was the young man from the street corner. Jim took a deep breath, and walked over, "I'm Detective Ellison," he said quietly.

"Fuckin' bully for you," Blair spat.

"I need to ask you a few questions," Jim continued.

"What? Like who sliced up the little queer? As if you give a fuck!"

"What's your name?"

"Why? You want to run it through the computer see if I have any outstanding fines?" Blair looked up into Jim's face defiantly, his face tear streaked, and blazing with anger.

"No, I just want to know what to call you," Jim replied calmly.

"How about fuckin' 'Sir'," Blair growled.

"Very well, 'Sir'. Now can you tell me what happened earlier?" Jim asked, watching the young man begin to swell with emotion. He was biting down on his lip to stop the tears, his pride demanding that he save face.  "Would you like to do this interview somewhere quiet?" Jim asked.

"Why, Detective, you cruisin' for a piece of ass, or something?" Blair sneered.

"No. I'm just trying to allow you the dignity that I would anyone else who was distraught over the death of his friend. Now if you would like for me to conduct this interview in a private room, I will do so," Jim's voice remained calm.

Blair glanced up and nodded, "Sorry," he whispered.

Jim led the young man into an interview room, and ordered coffee to be brought in. He asked if there was anything else he needed. The request was answered by a shake of the head.

"Are you feeling up to this?" Jim asked.

Blair shrugged, "Much as I'm ever likely to considering I just found my friend dissected in my living room," he struggled with the last couple of words.

"Okay. Now, Sir, is there anything you can tell me about who he was with tonight?" Jim asked.

"No. I'd been out since mid afternoon. I had a couple of regular clients, then I went grocery shopping," Blair took a breath, "What I don't understand is how it happened there?"

"What do you mean?"

"We had a rule. We never took clients back to the apartment," Blair said.

"Never?" Jim asked.

"No. It was the one hard, and fast rule we both stuck to. No way did I want to sleep in the bed I'd just been fucked in by some sweaty, drunken, old guy," Blair shivered.

Jim swallowed hard, "So what would he be doing back there with someone?" he asked.

"I don't know. Only a handful of people even knew where we live.  Friends mostly."

"And your pimp?"

The young man glared at Jim, "Yeah, my pimp," he spat.

"Any chance of you telling me where I can find him?" Jim asked.

"Oh, sure. Why not just slit my throat now, and save him the bother!" Blair exclaimed, "I'm sure he'd be thrilled if you turned up on his doorstep, cute though you are."

Jim allowed himself a brief smile, "Just thought I'd ask," he sighed. Suddenly there was a knock at the door, and a young uniformed officer carried in two coffees and some biscuits. Jim took them from the tray, and handed a cup to Blair. "Here, drink this. You're in shock, you need something sweet."

"I never knew cops could be such mother hens," Blair sneered.

"Purely selfish. You're the nearest thing I have to a witness," Jim smiled, "Gotta take care of you."


"What?" Jim frowned.

"My name. Blair. Blair Sandburg."

"Okay, Blair. Let's go over this again, one step at a time."

By the time Blair had described the events of the afternoon and evening, including finding Mark butchered, he was shaking and gasping for air. Trying to take a deep breath he glanced up at the cop who had remained silent throughout, allowing him to tell it in his own words, and at his own pace.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, "I'm usually *way* more together than this."

"That's okay, you've done just fine. It must have been very difficult, and I appreciate you being so forthcoming," Jim smiled, "You mentioned a phone call that Mark had last night. Do you know who it was from?"

"No, we were in bed. Mark got up to answer it, he said that it would be for him."

"Do you have a phone by the bed?" Jim asked.

"Yeah, so?" Blair frowned.

"Why didn't he answer it in the bedroom?"

"I guess it was private."

"Did he have a lot of private calls?"

"No not really. Where's this leading, Detective?"

"I just wondered why he would get out of bed to answer a call when he could have taken it without moving. What could have been so private that he needed to hide it from you?" Jim pondered.

Blair stopped for a moment; "It couldn't have been a client. We never give out our private number to them; they use the cell phone number. That way we can switch it off when we want some peace," Blair replied checking out Jim's surprised expression, "Yes Detective. Even whores need a little down-time sometimes."

"I never said they didn't," Jim mumbled.

"Your face did," Blair said with a short, un-amused laugh.

"I'm not here to judge your lifestyle," Jim defended himself.

"But you do. They all do," Blair said without emotion.

Jim looked up at the young man; "Do you have someone you can stay with for a few days?"


"Well, obviously you won't be able to return to your apartment, it's a murder scene."

"Shit. Homeless too, huh? What a fuckin' day," Blair ran his fingers through his hair.

"That's okay, the department will provide you with somewhere for a few days. I'll go organize something," Jim pushed back the chair.

"Detective?" Blair said suddenly.


"Er…thanks for being…okay….I know I've been kinda manic today…er…" the younger man looked away almost shyly.

Jim smiled, "Just doing my job, Blair," he said.

"Yeah, well," Blair shrugged weakly.

"I'll go find you a place to stay."


Jim pulled up in front of the motel. He slipped his hand in his pocket, and pulled out a key.

"Room 208," he said handing Blair the key, "Not exactly the Ritz, but someplace to rest your head tonight," he smiled.

"I've slept in worse," Blair said miserably.

"One request?" Jim said looking over at the young man.

"Oh, detective!" a forced grin spread across Blair's face.

Jim sighed, "No business from here, please?" he implored.

Blair regarded the cop with puzzlement. "Okay, it's a deal. I'll work my usual stretch of sidewalk."

"I don't suppose it's any good me asking you to stay off the streets until we find this maniac, is it?" Jim asked awkwardly.

"Detective Ellison. When someone shoots at you, do you give up work until they get the bad guy off the street?"

"No," Jim said slowly.

"Thought as much," Blair sneered

"Just be careful," the big detective warned.

"Always am," Blair winked, as he climbed from the truck, and wandered into the motel.



Blair watched the man pull up to the curb. For the first time, a chill of fear ran through him. This could be him. This could be the guy who would end his life. So easy to slip into that seat, and pull away into the night, never to be seen again. And who would give a fuck? No one.

"Hey, " the man gestured for Blair to come closer.

Pushing himself casually away from the wall, Blair strolled over to the car. It was a brand new BMW sports, imported, and probably cost both arms, and legs. Bending to peer into the car, he pushed out his ass, and let his shirt ride up to give a glimpse of the silver nipple ring that always adorned his left nipple.

"Hey, you looking for company, man?" he smiled.

"Sure, get in."

Swallowing his fear, Blair opened the door, and slipped into the leather seat. The guy was seventy if he was a day. A beer gut hung over his pants, and he had an expensive gold tooth fitted. Blair smiled past his natural revulsion, and stroked the man's thigh.

"Where do you want to party?" he smiled seductively.

"I got a hotel room, we can go there. Money isn't a problem," the man leered.

"Mmm, my kinda guy," Blair said sweeping his hand lightly over the man's crotch.

Ushering Blair into the hotel room, the man smiled. Blair turned, and began to peel off the old man's jacket, leaning in to nuzzle his neck.

"Come on baby, get 'em off, I want to see what I'm paying for," he growled.

Blair made a show of disrobing. He slipped his shirt over his head, and shook out his hair, the curls pooling on his shoulders. He ran his fingers lightly down his chest, ruffling the hair, sighing loudly as he touched his own body.

He fingered the ring threaded through his nipple, tugging slightly, moaning in appreciation as it stood to attention.

Glancing up at the old man Blair turned on his most seductive smile, and fingered the button on his jeans, Slowly, he lowered the zip to display nothing but flesh beneath. He heard the man draw in a breath at the sight of the base of his cock peeking from inside the soft denim.

Blair moved across to stand in front of his eager customer, lightly he stroked his finger down the man's chest "You like what you see, baby?" he purred.

"Finish it up and I'll tell ya."

Stepping back, Blair slowly pushed the jeans down, and shook them off his feet. He stroked his hands down his body again, this time lingering over his cock, which jumped at the touch.

"Oh yeah, you're a pretty one," the man salivated.

"An' I taste even better than I look. You wanna taste of me darlin'?" Blair sank back onto the bed, stretching, and flexing his muscles, giving the man a show. He knew that he had a nice body. He was on the short side, but he had hard muscles, and a toned body, though slim. His cock was lengthy, and thick, curving gracefully downwards, and impressive enough even when at rest.

"I'm gonna fuck you raw, son," the man leered, "And I want you to call me daddy.  My own boy left home, and I miss him to death. We were *real* close, you know?"

"Sure baby, I understand. Come on daddy, fuck my ass…please!" Blair spread his legs, and stroked himself, cupping his balls.

The man shed the remains of his clothes, and climbed on the bed, "Gonna have to whup you if you misbehave, son," he murmured as he fingered Blair's cock, "But it's for your own good."

"Yes daddy, I understand."

The big man grunted as Blair reached down, and began stroking his cock, "Can I taste it?" he asked, "Can I suck you, daddy please? Just to help you get nice, and hard for me?"

"Okay, son. If that's what you want," the man dropped back on the bed, and allowed Blair to scoot down, and begin nuzzling his limp organ. After a few moments of attention, it began to harden, slowly. Blair was good, and he knew that. He was talented at what he did, but this was still proving to be hard work.

Suddenly a sharp slap on his ass made him jump.

"Just keep going boy, but I'm gonna to have to punish ya," the old man partly sat up, and started hitting Blair across the ass in slow heavy strokes. With each blow the man grew harder until he pulled Blair from his cock-sucking duty, and shoved him face down on the bed.

The old man fumbled a condom onto his now rigid cock, and absently rubbed lube along its length. In one brutal stroke he skewered Blair's ass. The younger man gasped, despite his experience he was unprepared, and the lube used was woefully insufficient.

It hurt like a bitch.

"That hurting boy?" the man grunted.

"It's okay daddy, I know you don't mean to hurt me," Blair choked out the words.

"I like to hear you scream boy, like to feel my rod up your ass giving you pain."

"Yes, daddy. It hurts…"

The man withdrew all the way, and slammed back in; sweat dripping from him, the smell of sweat, sex and stale beer caught in Blair's throat as he gasped for breath.

"Beg." The man instructed, "Beg for more."

"Oh daddy, please, hurt me more, please," Blair cried out between clenched teeth, "I want to feel you in me, giving me everything, hurting me lots."

It took only minutes for the man to come with a strangled groan, and drop back onto the bed heavily.

He grabbed Blair by the arm, and pulled him into his side. Reaching down, he fisted Blair's cock brutally until the young man spilled into his hand.

Pulling on his jeans, and slipping his feet into his sneakers, Blair tried to control the shaking of his hands.

He turned and smiled at the man as he took the bundle of bills from his fingers.

"I'll be seeing you again, sweet thing," the man grinned.

"Sure, you know where to find me," Blair winked slowly, and strutted from the room.

Once out in the open, the fresh air seared his lungs, and he lost the contents of his stomach in the alley. He leaned against the wall as he took deep breaths, and tried to bring himself under control.

The guy had been no more brutal, or repulsive than any other, the pain he'd inflicted was minimal, and he'd paid up.

But Blair had never been more afraid in his life.



"I want to see a Detective named Ellison," the big man demanded.

Rhonda looked the man up and down. He was around six feet three, blond Caucasian, a muscular two hundred, and fifty pounds, and everything about him screamed 'Pimp'.

"May I ask what about, Sir?" she said politely.

"He has one of my…'friends' hidden away some where, and I want to know where."

At that moment, Jim wandered in.

"Detective Ellison, this gentleman would like a word with you," Rhonda smiled.

Looking the man up, and down, Jim gestured to the interview room.

"What can I do for you, Sir?" Jim asked.

"I want to know where you're keeping Blair Sandburg?"

"And you are?" Jim asked, already knowing the answer.

"I'm a friend of his, Magnus, and I want to see him," the big man demanded.

Jim smiled slightly, amused that this idiot thought he could bully, and intimidate *him* with his sheer size.

"Mr Sandburg is not in custody, he has merely been placed in a safer environment after the death of his roommate. I presume you heard about that?"

"Yeah," Magnus huffed.

"Where were you when this crime was committed, Sir?"



Laughing to himself, Jim Ellison watched Magnus stride from the PD angrily. He had wandered in here with the idea of making waves, and ended up giving a statement as to his where-abouts on the day of the murder.

Not for a minute did Jim think this lumbering oaf was anything to do with the serial killings. The man who was doing this was an organized killer, he had things planned, and his victims chosen before hand, Jim was pretty sure about that. Whereas Magnus was a common, or garden pimp with too much muscle, and not enough brain.

No, this killer was no fool.

Rubbing his already aching temple, Jim decided that the paperwork could wait a while; he needed to get out on the street and try to get a feel of the crime scenes.

He knew that his senses would help him, but he didn't have enough control to open them fully, and allow them to search. He'd only once done that while he was working, and almost gotten himself, and Simon Banks killed.

Jim thought back to his childhood, when his father had first sought help with his son's 'odd behavior'. It hadn't been a doctor, or an expensive specialist who had helped finally, but a dotty Professor from the university. He had recognized Jim's talent as a 'throwback' gene to an earlier civilization. But, before he could do much more than teach Jim the rudiments of how control them, stop them spinning off into oblivion, the kindly old man had died of cancer.

He had always maintained that somewhere lay Jim's one 'true guide'. Someone who would have a natural calming effect on him; be able to 'ground' him when he was in danger of zoning. But, they hadn't had time to investigate anything more before his death.

Jim had long since given up his search for the answers to his 'condition,' and just accepted them as a part of what he was, a part that must be suppressed for his own good, and the safety of those around him.

Shaking himself from his pondering, he set off for the last crime scene.


As Jim pulled out of 54th Street, and down onto the main road, he spotted a familiar figure standing talking to a guy in a black Chevy.

Parking the truck for a moment he watched, inexorably, as Blair smiled, and flirted with the older man.

His skin-tight jeans, and cropped tee shirt hinting at his slender but muscular body beneath, and wild curls framing a beautiful, if careworn, face.

It was not as though Jim hadn't met prostitutes before, and all of them had their own stories to tell, most demanding more sympathy than this cocky, headstrong young man. But somehow he couldn't get Blair Sandburg out of his mind, and sitting here, watching him offer his body to other men, was painful beyond belief.

He watched as Blair slid into the car, and it pulled away. Before he knew it, Jim was following. He saw the car pull into an alley, the loneliness of the location caused his heart rate to increase, this place was so dangerous, Blair could be such an easy target.

Without conscious thought, he reached out with his sensitive hearing, just to check that his young witness was okay, he told himself.

"Come on, beautiful, earn your money," a rough edged voice growled.

"Don't I always?" Blair replied.

"Just get to it, and use that mouth for something useful. I've got a business meeting in thirty minutes, and I don't intend to be late because some little whore was busy 'chatting'."

Jim listened to the sound of a zipper being lowered, followed by low moans from the older man.

Closing his eyes, he could visualize Blair, his tawny curls framing his face, eyes looking up from beneath those long eyelashes, as he took the straining erection in his mouth. The only difference was that in Jim's mind the recipient of this favor was a desperate, sad, old cop, who should know better than get emotional about a whore.

He stroked his hand across his groin feeling the growing tightness, <Jeezus, Ellison. When are you going to learn?> he thought irritably, <How many wet dreams have you had about this damn kid in the past few days?>

The sounds from the Chevy were increasing, the groans coming more regularly, and the breathless rasping of the older mans voice was testimony to Blair's skill.

Jim rubbed his fingers across the head of his cock, painfully encased in the heavy fabric of his pants. The sound of Blair's client panting, while the young man teased, and sucked him into submission, caused Jim to take deep breaths, in a vain attempt to quell his rising ardor.

'For God's sake, get a grip!' Jim thought desperately, 'He's a foul-mouthed little whore with a seriously bad attitude, why are you getting yourself so damned worked up over him?'

He pressed his head back into the headrest, still listening to the man in the Chevy, enjoying what he was forever to be denied, 'Christ, I want him so badly' Jim thought, finally allowing the thought to fly free, 'Why? Because, for whatever reason, and by whatever cruel quirk of fate ordained it…it feels right. *He* feels right. Like I knew him in another life,' he answered himself.

Oh God, he was getting philosophical about it now, he thought miserably. 'Of course it has *nothing* to do with the fact that when he looks at me I almost come in my pants…oh no, nothing as base that surely?' Jim mocked.

Suddenly the sounds changed. The older man gave a strangled grunt, and mumbled something incoherent. Then Jim heard the rustle of money exchanging hands.

"Pleasure to do business with you," he heard Blair purr.

"Just get out, I'm running late," the man growled.

Jim dialed up his vision and watched Blair climb from the vehicle. He was sorely tempted to drive over, and offer to take him back to the motel. 'Bad idea, Ellison, seriously bad idea. Firstly, don't you think he'd be kind of suspicious when you just 'happen' along?  And do you really trust yourself enough to be alone with him right now?'

Jim watched the young man stroll out onto the main street, and head back for the corner of 54th and Main. He took a deep breath, and started up the truck, deliberately heading in the opposite direction.




Jim wandered into the Precinct. He was feeling refreshed after what passed for a good nights sleep these days. It had only taken two showers, and a serious jerk off session to enable him to finally sink into his lonely bed, and sleep. Entering the Major Crimes bullpen, he was greeted by the scowling face of Joel Taggert

"Jim, there's someone in lock-up been screaming for you since last night," Taggert said.

"What for? Don't tell me….they're innocent!" Jim grinned.

"As usual," Taggert smiled. Picking up the piece of paper from the desk he checked the message, "Two uniforms picked up some hustler covered in blood, not his own, who wouldn't explain himself, and kept insisting on seeing you. They reckoned he was high, and threw him in lock-up…er….Sandburg."

"Blair Sandburg?" Jim said with a feeling of dread, "Call lock-up, tell them I'm on my way, I want him handed over to me, and me only. Got that?"

"Sure, Jim."




"Fuckin' fascist fuckin' bastard," Blair spat.

"Watch your mouth you little punk," the guard snarled.

Just as Blair was about to begin another barrage, Jim stepped forward, "It's okay, Murphy, I'll take it from here," he said eyeing Blair.

"Ellison! At fuckin' last!" Blair gasped, "I've been asking for you since last night. Didn't disturb your sleep did I?" he growled.

"Just calm down. What the hell happened to you?" Jim asked seeing the bruises beginning to surface on Blair's face.

"Oh, I just made some new 'friends' in your lock-up last night," Blair grunted.

"What?" Jim gasped.

Blair sighed, "I got my ass fucked by your guests last night. Oh, and again this morning…"

"Jeezus, I'll arrange for you to go to the hospital," Jim said sickly.

"The fuck you will!" Blair exclaimed, "Just get me a coffee, huh? I feel like shit."




Jim placed Blair in a private office, and called out for some coffee, and food plus a med-kit.

"What do you want a med-kit for?" Blair asked.

"Well if you won't have any medical treatment, at least let someone clean those cuts on your face, and wrists?" the older man implored.

"You?" Blair said suspiciously.

"We have a nurse in the building."

"No. You, or no one," Blair replied.

Jim sighed, "Okay, I'll do it. Just don't blame me when I get clumsy with you," he said looking over the battered face with concern.

"I'll survive," Blair said unsmiling.

"So, what happened?" Jim asked.

"Someone attacked me last night."


"As I walked back to the motel. I'd just put the key in the door, and I felt something sharp in my back," Blair took a breath, he tucked his hair behind his ear nervously, "Luckily, I didn't have the door open yet, so I ducked down, and twisted giving him a shove. It was so dark that I couldn't see anything. I must have pushed the knife into him somehow, because when your storm-trooper squad picked me up I was covered in blood, and it wasn't mine. I have no idea how I got away. It all happened so fast…" his voice began to crack.

Jim reached out, and grabbed his arm, giving it a light squeeze, "Okay, take it easy. We can go through all of this once you're cleaned up, and you've had time to gather your thoughts," he said softly.

Suddenly there was a knock at the door, a young woman officer entered with the med-kit, food, and coffee. Jim nodded, and took them from her.

"Sit down, I'll clean these cuts first," Jim instructed.

Blair frowned, "Mind if I don't?" he asked.


"Because my ass hurts!" Blair said finally, "After eight guys have played with it all night, it gets a little uncomfortable."

Jim flushed, "Sorry," he muttered.

"Why are you sorry? You weren't one of them," Blair said with annoyance. Jim looked away, and began to sort through the med-kit. "Man, I'm sorry," Blair said suddenly, "I didn't mean to snap your head off. Shit, you're the only person who treats me like a human being around here, and I'm doing my best to piss you off!"

"It's okay," Jim said looking back at the younger man, "You have every right to be annoyed, and scared."

"Fuckin' scared don't even begin to cover it, man," Blair laughed nervously, "I was so totally freaked last night, no wonder they thought I was using."

"You know that whoever attacked you could be the killer, don't you," Jim said.

"Yeah, even a dumb-fuck like me worked that one out," Blair replied.

"We can't leave you at that motel, and I'm loathe to just move you to another," Jim thought for a moment as he began to wipe the gash on Blair's forehead, "I think the safest bet would be if you stayed at my place for a few days."

Blair looked up at the big detective with an astonished grin, "I'll bet your wife's gonna love that," he laughed.

"I live alone," Jim stated.

"Oh, detective, is this a proposal?" Blair teased.

"You wanna go back into lock up?" Jim asked, smiling down at the young man.

Blair let fly a delighted grin, "Take me home, Detective Ellison!"




"Wow, police officers must get paid more than I thought," Blair whistled as they entered the loft apartment at 852 Prospect, "Either that, or you've been hooking on the side."

"Make yourself comfortable. That's the spare room over there, and that's the bathroom if you want to take a shower," Jim instructed.

"Yeah, thanks. Just wish you'd let me go back, and pick up some clothes, these things stink," Blair wrinkled his nose at the blood stained garments.

"I'll have your stuff picked up later, until then you can borrow some sweats from me. I want those blood stained clothes bagged ready for forensics to check out," Jim said.

"Okay. I'll go take a shower then," Blair smiled.


Jim stirred the sauce, and watched the pasta simmer. He could still hear Blair scrubbing at himself beneath the running water. Despite his unconcerned appearance, he knew that last nights assault had been the last straw for the young mans nerves. Suddenly, he heard the water stop, and moments later the door opened.

"I've put you some sweat pants, and a tee shirt on the bed," Jim said as Blair walked out of the bathroom.

"Thanks, man," the young man replied.

Jim turned around to see Blair dressed in only a fluffy towel, his body black with bruises. "Oh God," Jim grimaced, "That looks painful."

"Oh yeah, you could say that," Blair winced.

"Look, I have some bruise liniment in the cupboard, if you want to treat those bruises before you seize up."

"Thanks, but I don't think I can get my arm around the back at the moment. Don't suppose you're volunteering, huh?" Blair said with a weak smile.

Jim pondered for a moment, "Sure, no problem," he said.

"Okay if I lie on the bed?" Blair asked.

"Yeah." Jim followed Blair into the small bedroom. The younger man stretched out painfully on the bed. With a tug, Blair pulled the towel from around his waist. Jim stood watching the now naked young man shuffle to get comfortable.

"Whenever you're ready," Blair said, his face buried in the pillow. After a few moments he glanced around to see Jim standing, staring, his face slightly flushed. "It's okay, detective, I'm not gonna jump ya," he teased, "Not in any shape for it at the moment, and as you can see, I'm not looking my best!"

Suddenly he felt a cool hand on his shoulder, and the gentle massaging of his tender muscles.

"Just yell if it hurts," Jim said quietly.

"Oh you can bet I will," Blair sniggered.

"You should have had treatment for the assault, you know," the cop mused.

"I hate hospitals," Blair grunted, "Anyway, they'd have just thought what most of the cops did….that I got what I deserved."

"Who said that?" Jim growled angrily, "No one deserves to be raped, and beaten."

"That's not what your brother officers were saying as they walked past while it was happening, detective."

"Are you trying to tell me that someone saw this happen?"

"Yeah, I can still hear the laughter," Blair's voice tensed.

"Tell me who it was and I'll have his badge," Jim replied with growing anger.

"Chill out, detective. No point in making more trouble….no one would believe me over some cop. I'm just a cheap little hustler..."

"You're a human being, and deserve the same consideration as anyone else."

"Detective Ellison, forget it," Blair insisted, "But thanks."

Jim massaged the liniment into Blair's shoulder, and back, but stopped as he reached the cheeks of the young mans ass, "Er…"

"It's okay, I'm not shy if you're not," Blair said with amusement, almost as if he'd read Jim's mind, "But if it's gonna make you blush?" Suddenly there was a sharp slap on his ass, "Ow! That hurt!"

"Serves you right for having such a smart mouth," Jim smiled.

"So," Blair began, "You're not married?"

Jim stopped, stunned at the sudden change in conversation, "Divorced," he replied finally.

"Didn't she like you being a cop?"

"She was one too."

"Oh, man. You married another cop?" Blair giggled, "So did you divorce her, or did she divorce you?"

"What's with the sudden interest in my personal life?" Jim asked.

"Well when a guy is rubbing your naked ass it kinda makes you see him in a more 'personal' light," Blair smirked.

Jim smiled to himself, "I can see how that might happen," he grinned.

"So, who divorced who?"

"She divorced me. Since we're getting personal here, how come a smart kid like you is on the streets?" Jim asked.

"Circumstances," Blair replied, "Were you screwing around on her?"

"No I wasn't. What circumstances?"

Blair sighed, "My mom was a sixties lovechild, I was an unexpected nuisance who got dumped on relatives who didn't give a shit, so I learned to take care of myself. Why did she divorce you then?"

"Because I was a jerk. So, how old were you when you turned your first trick?"

"Ten. You dating at the moment?"

"No. Ten years old? How the hell have you survived?"

"Like you said, I have a smart mouth," Blair turned his head to look at Jim, "and I know how to use it. You only date women, or do men get a look in?"

Jim stared at the younger man for a minute, "Okay, all done. I've cooked some pasta if you're hungry," he said standing up, and walking out.

Blair watched him go, a smile playing across his face, "Mmm, interesting!" he muttered to himself.




Blair walked into the dining area, the table was set out, and something smelled delicious. He pulled out the chair to find a large cushion placed upon it. He felt himself smile widely at the extremely touching gesture.

"Everything okay?" Jim asked.

"Wha…Oh yeah, thanks…for this," Blair said awkwardly.

Jim walked over as Blair gingerly sat down, and ladled out some pasta, "You want water or wine with this?"

"Wine?" Blair exclaimed, "You trying to get me drunk, detective?" he teased.

Jim sighed, "Well, which?"

"Wine, please."

Jim replaced the pot on the stove, and carried the wine over, pouring out two glasses before sitting opposite Blair.

"Wow, I feel like I'm on a date," Blair grinned, noting the slight discomfort on the big cops face.

"Just eat and keep that smart mouth shut," Jim said trying to sound serious.

Blair began to shovel down the pasta, "Mmm, she didn't divorce you because you couldn't cook, anyway," he smiled.

"Why are you so fascinated with my failed marriage?" Jim grumbled.

"Because you're an enigma, detective. I haven't quite worked you out yet, and I don't like mysteries."

"I'm just a simple, boring old cop."

"Now, I don't believe that for a minute. Trust me, I've met a lot of cops, but never one like you before."

"Oh there are plenty."

"No way, man. There are plenty like the ones who stood there last night while those animals fucked me."

"That's not true," Jim said defensively.

"Oh yes it is. They're not the first ones to get off on seeing some two bit hustler get what's coming!"

"I don't know of any officer I've ever worked with who would stand there, and watch a man get raped…and *enjoy* it," Jim said with distaste.

"Well, we're gonna have to agree to disagree on that point," Blair decided, "So, you always been a cop?"

"No, I was in the military," Jim replied.

"Wow, a real action man, huh? Why'd you leave?"

"Circumstances," Jim shot Blair a smile, "And I was getting too old for all that shit."

"So you became a big, bad-ass cop instead," Blair smiled back.

"Yeah, that's about it," Jim replied, "You should get yourself tested, you know, after that assault."

Blair placed his fork down on the plate, his face darkened, "How do you know I wasn't infected before I got my ass fucked last night?" he said with irritation.

"Were you?" Jim asked looking him in the eye.

"No. I had my test results back two weeks ago, they were clean."

"Get re-tested."

"That an order, detective?" Blair growled.

Jim stared down the angry glare, "Okay, please get yourself re-tested, for your own good."

Blair sighed and shrugged, "Yeah, I probably will," he muttered shifting uncomfortably.

"You okay?" the older man asked.

"No, my ass hurts! Why? You want to rub it a little more?" Blair blazed. Jim looked back at his meal, and remained silent. "Man, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to go off at you like that," he rubbed his hand across his face wearily.

"It's okay, you must be pretty tired," Jim said still not meeting Blair's eyes.

"That's no excuse. Shit, you're the only person who's shown any damn concern about me. I am *so* fuckin' stupid!"

"No you're not. You're just tired, angry, and scared. And you have every right to be all of those, and more. Don't beat yourself up about it," Jim smiled.

Blair nodded, "So how come a good looking guy like you lives alone?" he asked.

Jim gave a strangled laugh, "What *is* it with you, and my personal life?" he asked.

"I'm just endlessly curious," Blair laughed, "So why do you?"

"I like it this way."

"Oh, the anti-social type, huh?" Blair smiled eyeing Jim carefully, "Are you attracted to men?"

"What?" Jim gasped, "When did *that* thread change?"

"You haven't answered the question though, have you?"

"No. Now eat your meal, and mind your own damned business."

"Okay," Blair said breezily, but, unknowingly, Jim had already given him all the answer he needed.




"There are more blankets in the cupboard over there if you get cold," Jim said pointing to the corner of the small bedroom, "You sure you're okay?"

"Me? I'm fine. Of course, if you're really worried about me getting cold, you could always slip between the sheets, and keep me warm," Blair grinned as Jim's face colored slightly.

"Get some sleep," Jim sighed.

"Thanks detective."


"What?" Blair said turning to look at the older man.

"My name's Jim."

Blair's face lit up in a mind-shattering smile, "Thanks, Jim."




Blair slid the key in the door; not an easy task with two grocery bags balanced precariously on one arm, and pushed it open.

"Mark?" he called. No one answered. Blair grunted, "Lazy little bastard, I'll bet you're still in bed," he complained, as he made his way to the kitchen, and dropped the bags on the counter.  "Come on, you're supposed to be cooking tonight," he yelled, passing the bedroom, and entering the living room.

As the door swung open, a smell hit Blair like a sledgehammer, "What the fuck…." he gagged.

Suddenly he looked down; there was something sticky on the floor, clinging to his sneakers.

Why were the curtains closed?

Picking his way across the darkened room, kicking something on the floor along the way, Blair swished open the drapes.

Blood…everywhere. Black, and sticky, the smell; like an abattoir heavy, and sickly.

With a growing terror, Blair looked down at whatever it was he'd kicked on his journey across the floor…..Mark, or at least a piece of him. The younger man had been dissected like a lab rodent, and staked out on the floor. Impossible amounts of blood dripped from every surface…Blair screamed, only he heard no sound…….

"Blair?" Jim's voice pierced the nightmare.

Blair's eyes shot open, the sweat dripped from his chin. Instinctively, he launched himself at the figure bending over him, hurling himself into Jim's arms, which thankfully wrapped around him like a security blanket, "Oh God," he gasped.

"It's okay, you were having a nightmare," Jim whispered, pulling the trembling body into his chest, stroking Blair's hair gently.

"No shit?" the younger man whispered finally, giving a short, cold laugh.

Jim pulled back, "You okay?"

"Could you just hold me a minute longer?" Blair asked almost shyly, "Hey, this isn't a come on or anything…I.." he said quickly noting Jim's expression.

The big cop suddenly smiled, "Sure," he said pulling Blair back into his embrace, "This reaction isn't unusual after what you've been through recently. Just take some deep breaths."

Blair clung to the bigger man with a desperation he never thought he could feel, "Oh man, that was *harsh,*" he muttered into Jim's chest.

"You want a drink or anything?" Jim asked.

"No, I just want to sit here for a minute until I've pulled myself together, okay?" Blair replied nervously.

"Yeah, that's okay," Jim smiled, rubbing his hand up, and down Blair's back.

"Oh man, will this ever go away?"

"Yeah, in time," Jim said, settling against the younger man.

Blair closed his eyes, and let the warmth from Jim wash over him.

God this felt so good. Part of him was disgusted that he could feel this way after what had happened, and about a cop.

He took a deep breath, and pulled out of Jim's arms, it wouldn't do to let this man see how attracted he was. Emotional attachment was dangerous, emotional attachment to a cop was suicidal.

This guy wasn't really any different to the rest, he saw a whore, and a male one at that; the lowest order of life on the planet. He was being kind because he needed a live witness, not because he had any interest in Blair as a human being, no one did. And even if he could, by some miracle, be interested, why would a cop jeopardize everything for a hustler that he could 'rent' on a regular basis without the complications?

"You all right?" Jim asked.

"Yeah, fine. Sorry about that, man. Sorry I disturbed your sleep too," Blair said rubbing at his face.

Jim looked into Blair's eyes, a strange expression flitted across his face, "That's okay. No problem. You want me to sit here with you a while?"

"No, no. It's okay. I'm cool now," Blair nodded. His mask slipping back into place.

Jim stood up, and awkwardly shrugged his shoulders, "Okay, if you need anything, just give me a call," he said not looking at the younger man.

"Thanks," Blair replied. He watched the big cop walk from the room before sinking back onto the pillow. Scrubbing a tear from his eye, he buried his face in the pillow. Praying that he would be spared the nightmare this time.