CUP RUNNETH OVER

(c) August 2003 by Charlotte Frost

PART THREE

Jim picked up the phone at his desk. "Ellison."

"Hey, Jim. I just picked up the mail and guess what?"

"What?"

"You have an envelope from Carolyn. Since you said she was sending the ten grand....  If you want, I can bring it by, so you can take it right to the bank or whatever."

Jim didn't feel a need to rush the money to the bank but since Blair was willing to bring it by.... "Uh, yeah, that would be a good idea. I have to leave my truck with the mechanic, anyway, since he has to check the carburetor."

"Okay, I'll come by and get you when your shift is up."

As they were driving along in Blair's temporary Mercury, Jim noticed that Blair's eyes kept shifting to the envelope, which was opened and had indeed contained a $10,000 check.   

"What?" Jim finally asked.

"Nothing," Blair shrugged.

Jim gave Blair a long-suffering look.

"Okay, okay," Blair said with a nervous chuckle. "I want to ask you a really rude, personal question that's absolutely none of my business and I don't know how to go about it. I was taught you should never, ever ask anyone this question."

"Just ask it, Chief."  

"Well...," Blair's eyes stared at the road ahead, "how much money do you have?  I mean --"  he quickly glanced at Jim, "it's just that I don't know of too many people who could just up and loan somebody ten thousand dollars -- and not even think they're going to get it back -- and not have it be a big deal."  He was looking back and forth between Jim and the road. "You live like a regular guy. I've seen you pay credit cards in installments and such. Yet, you give Carolyn ten grand like it's nothing."

Jim could understand how ten grand might seem like an enormous sum of money to someone who never had any to spare. "I've always been pretty disciplined about building a savings account; you know, in case I ever get put on suspension without pay or something like that. They say that you're supposed to have three to six months of living expenses put away for emergencies. So, I've just built it up over time. "

Blair shook his head. "Wow. Three to six months?  I can't imagine ever building up that much money."  Pause. "So, that's where that was from?" He nodded toward the envelope.

"Uh-huh."

"You don't have some big stock investments or some big trust fund?"

"Nope. Never was interested in the stock market. Carolyn played in it some but she eventually spent it all on gambling."

"You probably could have had a lot more money, if you'd followed in your dad's footsteps, huh?"

"Probably. But why would I have wanted to?"

Blair grinned and looked over at him. "I'm glad you didn't."

"Being a cop," Jim considered, "I see too much of the attitude of making money for its own sake, and how destructive it is. A wealthy lifestyle rarely leads to any real happiness."  He rubbed his chin. "Money is just a tool. Nothing more. Too many people make it into some kind of god to worship."

"I hear that," Blair said cheerfully.

Jim had heard it said that money was what couples argued over the most. Yet, he and Blair seemed to see eye-to-eye on the subject, despite Blair's having almost a non-existent income.

They were approaching the bank. "Are we going inside or to the drive-up?" Blair asked
 
"Inside."

As Blair accompanied him inside the bank, Jim wondered what it would be like if this was how they always were -- a couple, of sorts. Running errands together.

Jim filled out a savings deposit slip from his checkbook.

Blair was standing so close that their jackets brushed. "Didn't you take the money out of a CD?" he asked.

Jim nodded. "I'd have to see Customer Service to create another CD."  He looked toward the desk. "The line is too long. I'll transfer it later."

When they got in line for the tellers, Jim handed Blair the check and deposit slip. "You can hold that," he said, thinking Blair probably had never had much opportunity to hold five figures in his hand, unless it was just briefly when receiving student loan checks.

Blair accepted it and stared at the deposit slip.

Jim fantasized about Blair fantasizing about the deposit slip having both their names.

Then he fantasized about both their names being on the account.

"Next, please."

Jim walked up to the teller with Blair next to him, wondering if the young lady behind the desk thought they were a couple.

Hoping that she did.

She looked up at Jim. "Since this is an out-of-state check, there will be a ten-day hold."

"That's fine," Jim said.

She handed him a receipt. As they walked away, Blair said, "How come they didn't give Carolyn a ten-day hold?  She used up the money right away, right?"

"I gave her a cashier's check."

Blair huffed, "Seems like she could have returned the favor."

Jim shrugged.

Jim held the door open for Blair, then put his hand on Blair's back as he walked through. He wished he had an excuse for some horseplay, to tease Blair or hit at him or grab at him.

But this was a public parking lot.

Blair only had three days left on his celibacy gig before Jim lost the bet. He thought about bringing up the subject but he didn't want to remind Blair that his self-enforced celibacy would soon end.

For that matter, he was somewhat surprised that Blair didn't seem more eager for it to end or was bragging about how he had some lady waiting in the wings for the first day after the bet was over.

Is it possible that he's not really that interested any more?

He was a fool for thinking -- hoping -- that, he knew. Besides, Blair had plenty of excuses for not being particularly interested in sex lately. There had been the car accident, and then his emotions and whole sense of self had been thrown into a tailspin because of learning about his father and brother. Then the changing his thesis topic.

Surely, life would get back to normal for Blair before long.

Jim squeezed Blair's shoulder, then dropped his hand. He put both hands in his pockets, so he wouldn't be tempted to take what he couldn't have.

Blair bumped Jim with his shoulder. "You okay?"

"Yeah," Jim said, making his tone one of surprise.

"You just seemed... down, all of a sudden."

Am I that easy to read?  

"Jim?"

Jim stopped.

Blair looked up at him with concern. "Are your senses okay?  You haven't mentioned anything about them in a while."

Jim felt a sense of nostalgia for how he and Blair used to work so closely together for the purpose of his senses. "Nothing to mention. They work fine."

"They haven't faded on you or anything?"

Faded?   "No."  To prove it, he cocked his head and listened, his hearing zeroing in on a man and woman in a car that was pulling out of the lot. He pulled back. "Those two in the black sedan are having an affair. They're arguing about the wife banking here, too, and how they might run into her."

Blair made an expression of amazement, then he chuckled. "Sheesh. Talk about living on the edge."

"Maybe he sort of wants to get caught, eh, Chief?"  As Jim said the nickname, he remembered his recent journal reading. He nudged Blair. "Hey."

"Yeah?"

"I was reading in one of your journals the other day," he waited as Blair perked up with interest, "and you were wondering why I called you 'Chief'. You thought it might have something to do with a sentinel needing to look up to his partner, or something like that."

"I remember wondering about that."

Jim shook his head. "Remember my childhood mentor, Bud, who was Mick Foster's last victim?"

"Uh-huh."

"He called me Chief. I liked it. The nickname is a fond memory for me. That's all there is to it."

Blair put a hand to his mouth. "Oh."

"You could have asked me."  Jim realized his voice sounded a touch scolding.

"If I had, you might have answered differently. Not because you were trying to be untruthful but just because I was making you think about it, which thereby could possibly influence your answer."  Blair paused. "Besides, you'd suppressed all that stuff about Bud."

Jim supposed Blair was right. Still, he called Blair "Chief" because it was a name that meant something positive and good. He hoped Blair realized that.

It took a long time, but a smile finally found its way across Blair's mouth.

Blair sighed. He was sitting at his desk at Rainier, twirling a pencil between his fingers.

Things had been so good lately. Now they were starting to drift back to normal.

All of Jim's attention, all that extra touchy-feelyness... Jim had started to draw it back. Blair wondered if that was a direct result of his own life having reached some equilibrium.

That didn't seem quite fair. Things go bad with me and things with Jim and me get great. Then things get more normal with me and Jim and me get... more normal.

Not that normal was bad. It just wasn't as much fun.

Or maybe he's just tired of me.

No. Jim had read more of Blair's journals. He had even given input as to why he called Blair "Chief".

Blair grimaced as he looked at the clock. Time to check in with Professor Reynolds. He gathered his file folder, feeling self-conscious that it probably looked like a feeble amount of work for a week's time.  He suspected that Reynolds dreaded their weekly meetings as much as Blair did. He wished Reynolds would get to the point of dreading them so much that he'd beg the committee to drop the requirement.

Blair walked slowly up to the fourth floor. He noticed that he didn't feel even mild pain from his injuries, which indicated that he was completely recovered from his accident.

I'm a hundred percent and now Jim's not treating me so special anymore.

For that matter, the bet would be won in another two days. He could start having sex again, instead of focusing so much on what Jim was thinking. It would be good for him. He needed a thoroughly uncomplicated lay to start out with.

Blair entered the offices for the Anthropology Department. "Hi, Denise."

The secretary smiled at him. "Hi. You can go right in."

Blair entered Reynolds' office. They greeted each other with tight smiles and Blair sat down.

"Let's see what you've got."

Blair handed the file folder over to him. He pointed as he spoke. "I started the introductory chapter and from there I brushed up my outline. I came across some more material from my prior project that I think I'll be able to use. There are notes in the back."

He wondered what Jim was working on right now.  The case with the knife stabbing had, unfortunately, reached a dead end. Blair wished he could have been more help with that.

"Your introduction seems rather unorganized," Reynolds said with a smile that wasn't sincere.

"How so?"  Blair leaned over it. He had put it together rather quickly. But then, seat-of-his-pants production had usually served him well.

"You repeat yourself in a couple of paragraphs. See here, where you mention that tribal societies won't allow anyone to advance another member to the top without going through the proper hierarchy. This second time, you expand further to mention that all steps to leadership must be achieved and there's no skipping levels. You could combine that with the first paragraph where you introduced it. Also..."

While Reynolds talked, Blair's thoughts returned to Jim's recent cases. They'd gotten some good leads on a gun dealer, but that had been taken over by the FBI. No sooner had Jim complained about it, than he'd been put on a homicide where there were suspected links to white collar crime.

"So, for next week," Reynolds went on, "I think you need to brush up this first chapter. Also, the extra data you've discovered doesn't seem like that much. You might want to consider more sources. As it stands, I think this is turning out to be a weak thesis. I know you're capable of better."  He presented another of his artificial smiles.

Blair nodded and didn't bother with a lie of his own about how he appreciated Reynolds' critique.

He knew when he got home that what he was going to do was log some more of his old sentinel research into the computer. That's what made him happy. That's what felt valuable.

Just as Blair reached his office, the phone rang. "Blair Sandburg," he answered.

Simon's voice was gruff. "I thought you should know. I sent Jim to Mercy General. He had a real bad headache. I think it has something to do with fumes at a paint plant, where he was questioning a witness."

"I'm on my way," Blair said, slamming down the phone.

Even as he grabbed his stuff, locked his office, and raced toward his car, he was aware that he was probably over-reacting to something minor.

Still, it felt so good that Jim might need him.

He turned the idea of headaches and sense of smell over and over in his mind as he made the trip to the hospital. Mentally, he turned the pages of his research notes, drawing up past incidents that could be helpful to this one.

For starters, Simon had said that he'd sent Jim to the hospital, which meant he'd had to make in an order. That meant Jim wasn't in unbearable pain, but incapacitated enough that it was noticeable to others.

When he entered the emergency department, Blair was both relieved and annoyed to see Jim sitting amongst the throngs of people in the waiting room. His eyes were closed and his face was pinched. So much for it being a "real" emergency, Simon. There weren't any empty chairs near him.

Jim's eyes opened as Blair approached. Was that relief on his face?

"Hey, Jim."  Blair spoke quietly as he knelt in front of him.

"Hey."

"You're like, what, number eighty-two on the list?"

"Something like that."

"Is it a throbbing headache or more than that?"

"Not throbbing."  Jim's eyes closed again. "It's a constant pain. My whole head, not just my temples. My face, too."

"Dizzy?  Faint?"

"Only from the pain."

"You were at a paint factory?"

"Yeah. The fumes were bad. I was only there thirty minutes, but an hour after I was back at the station it was still bad."

Blair laid his hand on Jim's knee. "Okay. I think I can help, at least while you're waiting for them to call you. How about we go outside? Being in this stuffy room isn't helping anything. Can you stand?" He reached for Jim's arm. "You'll hear them if they call for you."

Jim kept his eyes closed as he stood.

Blair put his arm around his waist. "We're going right outside. I saw a couple of nice trees."

"Trees are outhouses for dogs."

Blair laughed. "They have other uses, too. In fact," he said, guiding Jim out the automatic doors, "they're one of nature's great masterpieces."

"Masterpieces," Jim muttered skeptically.

"Yep. See here," Blair said, leading him toward a well-shaped pine, "let's sit here in the shade."

"Why the shade?"

"So you don't have to squint from the sun," Blair said patiently. "Cross your legs, if you can, and do your breathing."

Jim slowly folded his long legs into an Indian-style position.

"Good. Close your eyes and listen to my voice. Take a nice, slow, deep breath."  Blair waited while Jim did. "Now release it."  He waited some more. "Do you smell the pine tree?"

"Yes, but it's faint."

"That's okay. But it's a more pleasant smell than what you've got in your head right now?"

"For sure."

"Okay. We're going to replace one with the other. Take nice slow breaths -- don't rush it -- and focus on the pine smell. Let your body go completely and relax."

Blair watched Jim as he obeyed. Then he talked him through replacing the paint smell with the fresh pine smell. He had to scold him once for trying to force the process, to get him to slow down and kept his breaths farther apart.

He waited until Jim had fallen into a regular rhythm and his face had relaxed. Then he asked, "How do you feel?"'

Jim hesitated, as though he hadn't even been thinking about it. Then his eyes blinked open and he said, "My headache is gone."

"Good," Blair said, smiling.

"I can still sense the paint odor in my sinuses, but it's not like it's strong enough to affect me."  He grinned at Blair. "We can leave then."

"Yep. But first," Blair pulled out a bottled water from his backpack, "take a few slow sips of this."

Jim did, then grimaced. "It has an aftertaste like the paint."

"That's because the smell is still in your nose and throat.  Food will help wash that away."

"A salty burger and fries ought to do it," Jim said, as Blair helped him stand.

Blair took a step toward the parking lot while Jim hesitated and looked toward the emergency room entrance. "Maybe we should tell them I'm leaving."

"They'll figure it out."

"Simon will want a written report."

"I'll take care of Simon," Blair said, enjoying the thought.

They headed off to Blair's loaner car. Blair said, "You didn't drive did you?"

"Rafe dropped me off."

After they got in the car, Blair hit Simon's office number on his speed dial.

"Banks."

"Simon, Blair. Jim and I are leaving the hospital."

"What did the doctor say?"

"We didn't see the doctor. We would have been waiting hours. All Jim needed was a quiet place to relax and focus. I helped him with that and he feels fine now."

"Blair, you aren't a doctor," Simon said brusquely.

"No, and I'm not a cop, either. But that hasn't stopped me from being an asset. Besides, I'm the number one authority on Jim's senses and I know how to help him with things like this.  His sense of smell got overloaded. Doctors can't help with that. All they would do is try to give him drugs that would treat the symptoms, rather than the problem."

"Put Jim on," Simon commanded.

Blair rolled his eyes and handed the phone to Jim. "He wants to talk to you."  Blair started the car.

Jim listened a moment, then said, "Simon, I'm fine. I'm great. I feel better than I did when I walked into work this morning. Blair knows what he's doing."

Blair felt a warm glow as he pulled into traffic.

"It's my health," Jim went on after a pause, "and I wouldn't entrust it to just anybody. You did the right thing by calling him."

The conversation became calmer after that.

A half hour later, they were sitting in the parking lot at Wonderburger, munching on their dinner.

The aroma of burger and fries had banished the paint smell completely. Jim felt his sense of taste was back to normal by the time he'd finished. He sipped his soft drink and watched Blair slowly chew his chicken sandwich.

"You had your meeting with Reynolds today?"

Blair nodded without looking up and continued to chew.

"Sore subject," Jim said with a sigh.

Blair shrugged.

God, Blair seemed so unhappy with school now. Jim wondered if there was anything he could do.

He decided that, at the moment, all he could do was change the subject. "Thanks for helping me out with the headache, buddy."

Blair looked at him with a big grin. "Seems like it's been a long time since you've needed me."

Jim couldn't be sorry that he had better control of his senses, but he was sorry that Blair didn't feel needed as much as he apparently wished.

Blair wiped his hands and turned in his seat. "You really shouldn't even need me for something like this afternoon. You can heal yourself, Jim. You just have to be willing to put yourself in a situation where you can relax, concentrate and focus. You have to be willing to work through the process, without being told to."

Jim knew that was true. Still, "It's easier when you're coaching me through it."

"Glad to help."

Blair started the car and drove up to the nearest trash bin. He waited for Jim to throw out their trash, then they started home.

"I can be at the PD tomorrow."

"Good. The evidence we're trying to compile against a group businessmen is mainly gathering a lot of paperwork."

"Right up my alley."

Jim was glad that Blair seemed more cheerful.

He kept his eye on Blair as they drove to Prospect Street. He considered what he could do or say that would keep Blair feeling upbeat.

Obviously, sentinels were one subject. But Jim had shied away from reading more of Blair's journals, once he realized how strong his own feelings were becoming.

Where do I put them?  he wondered. Blair, at least, was able to write his feelings down. That gave him an outlet.

Jim didn't have an outlet like that. He wondered if that was dangerous; if something, somewhere down the line, was going to explode.

I love him. He glanced at Blair yet again.
 
Blair's hair was down and he was wearing his glasses. In some ways, he was the same person Jim had first met. In other ways, he had changed so much.

The biggest similarity was that he still wanted to hang out with Jim, do things for him -- especially where his senses were concerned -- and be partners with him.

Probably the biggest change was that he'd become a little wiser to the world, a touch less idealistic and naïve. 
 
"I realized," Blair said, his eyes on the road, "while I was walking up to the fourth floor today, that I'm completely healed. My injuries don't even twinge anymore."

"That's great," Jim said. The accident seemed like something from the distant past, because so many more emotionally intense situations had happened since then. "Hard to believe it's just been a couple of months."

"Yeah."  Blair was still smiling. And then his mouth corners leveled out, as though he, too, was thinking of all the things that had happened since.

They pulled into the lot across from their building, then rode the elevator in silence. Blair rummaged around in his backpack to retrieve the bottle of water. "Your head still feel okay?" he asked after taking a sip.

"Great," Jim replied.

He was cured. Blair was cured. The mess with Blair's parentage and his dissertation was as well behind him as it could be. His own annoyance with Carolyn was behind them.

It was as though a slate had been washed clean -- and was ready to be written upon, once again.

Tell him, a voice whispered in the back of Jim's mind, as he watched Blair leave his backpack on the counter, move toward the refrigerator, and ask,  "Are there any oranges?"

Jim didn't know if they were out. Oranges were generally Blair's, but he had one on occasion.

For that matter, the segregation of their food, which Jim had insisted upon in the early days of living with a roommate, had become less and less an issue. Most of it was co-mingled now.

Blair grunted before closing the refrigerator, empty-handed. "We should have stopped at the grocery store when --"

He stopped speaking as he turned around and looked up, with wide eyes, at Jim standing right in front of him. "What?" he asked worriedly.

Now or never.

Jim felt his courage falter. A feeling of butterflies settled in his stomach.

Blair's blue eyes gazed into his.

Jim swallowed loudly. He reached up and trailed his fingers along Blair's lips. So soft.  Slightly damp. A hint of dryness at one corner.

Blair blinked. Then his mouth fell open.

Jim traced the perimeter, unsure of what to do next.

"If you'd kissed me like that before," Carolyn's sad voice came back to him, "maybe we'd still be married."

It was too late to right that wrong with Blair. He had already hesitated too long to be spontaneous.

Blair's lips came together for a moment. He was speaking. Whispering. "Is this what you want?"  

Was his voice full of awe and wonder?  

Jim swallowed again. He stroked Blair's upper lip. "What do you want?" he murmured, even as he kicked himself for placing all the responsibility on Blair's shoulders.

He watched Blair's Adam's apple bob. Such a beautiful throat.    

"I - ," Blair swallowed, making a wet sound, even though his lips now felt dry on Jim's fingertips, "I want anything -- everything -- I can have from you."  The corner of his mouth felt as though it was trembling.

Fear?

He continued to stroke Blair's lip. With his other hand, he reached up and -- so gently -- grasped Blair's chin, with the intent of holding him still.

He moved his jaw, encouraging a helping of saliva to wet his mouth.

He bent his head.

Blair took a little in-drawn breath as his eyes grew wider.

Once certain of meeting his target, Jim closed his eyes, moving closer.

Then he was feeling Blair's plush softness against his lips. The air between them tasted of Wonderburger and salt. So did Blair's mouth corners.

Blood began to descend below Jim's waist.

Blair made a little noise.

Jim's hand moved from Blair's chin to his back, then down to his rear. He gripped, then pulled Blair closer.

Yes.

Blair grunted, his hands in the air, as though keeping himself neutral, neither grabbing Jim nor pushing him away.

Jim squeezed more, the need urgent at his groin.

Blair groaned against Jim's mouth and gripped his sides.

Oh, yes.

Jim moved backward, taking Blair with him. His rear end hit the table, and he went around it. He walked faster, getting impatient, but refusing to let Blair go. Refusing to give him an opportunity to think or talk.

Blair followed, stepping on Jim's toes as they moved. Finally, Jim felt the sofa arm at the back of his legs. He shifted around it until he was confident he could let himself fall back onto the cushions, bringing Blair with him.

He took a breath and then his lips ravaged Blair's once again.

He felt a hand on his cock, held at bay only by the denim of his jeans.

Jim released Blair and dropped his head back. It was too good. The fingers were feeling his outline and then they gripped him as best they could through his clothing. His ultra-sensitive underside was found through the denim and special pressure was applied there.

Jim groaned and quivered. Fluid erupted from his center, soiling his underwear.

He breathed heavily, letting the climax wash through him. So familiar, and yet so superior to self-gratification.

He was failing Blair, he knew with peripheral awareness. He raised his hand weakly, trying to show a willingness to reciprocate.

His hand was grabbed and placed over a hard, khaki-clad mound. Eyes closed, he pressed, and was gratified to feel swelling and a throb.

Limbs were shifting over him.

"Right there," a tense voice whispered above him. His shoulders were grabbed in eager hands.

He wasn't sure what he was supposed to do, and then he realized he didn't need to do anything.  Blair was humping against his open hand, and the swelling shifted and grew.

Blair's grunts became desperate. His hands gripped harder. He made a deep guttural noise.

Jim could feel the warm liquid pool inside of Blair's clothing.

He let himself drift in semi-consciousness, loving the feel of a very sated Blair on top of him.

He came to minutes later. He was stretched out the length of the sofa, his lower right leg hanging off the edge. Blair was at his right side, partially on top of him, with his face resting high up on Jim's shoulder, so that each exhalation brushed against Jim's neck.

Jim recognized the stickiness inside his underwear and the smells associated with it. He wanted to reach up and stroke Blair's hair, but he knew Blair would wake up, and then would come the necessary discussion and analysis.

Jim wanted to put that off as long as possible, because this felt so good and cozy right now. He wondered if it was possible that they could have this on occasion -- give each other relief every now and then, when the urge got strong.

He knew he was being a fool.

Had he and Carolyn ever lain together like this, sated from their lovemaking?  He could remember holding her at times, snuggling up with her while watching TV. But he could never recall her feeling this relaxed. But then, the simple truth was that she'd never trusted him the way Blair did -- at least, not when it came to her innermost feelings.

Blair stirred. Jim decided to go ahead and stroke Blair's hair. The strands on the outside were drier than the ones underneath, which carried the residue of sweat. When he reached the ends, Jim kept stroking lower until he felt Blair's shoulders, then the middle of his back. He rubbed in a small, slow circle.

Blair turned his head, so that his nose was almost against Jim's neck. Out the corner of his eye, Jim saw Blair looking up at him.

He was smiling, in a warm, cozy way.

Jim glanced at him, giving a smile of his own -- noting Blair's five o'clock shadow -- and then his eyes darted bashfully away.

Blair brought his hand up and placed it against Jim's chest. It felt warm and soothing.

Softly, Blair asked, "Does it scare you, for us to be like this?"

Jim didn't know how to answer. He had no fear of this moment. It was too wondrous and too good. It was down the line when there would be problems. It was inevitable.

He resumed slowly stroking Blair's hair.

Blair didn't seem to mind his silence. He continued in the same soft tone, his warm breath drifting across Jim's skin, "I guess I lost our bet. I don't care."

Oh, the bet.  Jim distinctly remembered, "That was specifically concerning sex with women."  He didn't know why he had mentioned gender as part of the criteria, when they'd been on the beach.

"Umm," was all Blair said, raising his head and giving a little smile.

Jim was afraid that Blair was going to get up.

Instead, Blair lay back down, centering his head on Jim's chest.

Jim closed his eyes, his fingers still rubbing at the back of Blair's shirt.

He realized he'd drifted off, when Blair started shifting and said, "I'm going to take a shower."  He carefully moved off of Jim.

Jim was vaguely aware of the shower going. Then Blair emerged with a towel rubbing at his back, presenting a full view of his front.

There was something so beautiful about Blair's comfort with that.

Jim got up, needing a shower himself. He didn't say anything as he passed Blair's room. His robe was upstairs, but he didn't care. If Blair marched around, comfortable in his nudity, then Jim could, too.

When Jim emerged from the bathroom, having just abandoned his towel, he found Blair waiting at the doorway of his room, still unclothed. Blair's hair was now dry, as he used the hair dryer in his room most of the time, since using it in the bathroom usually took so much time that it tried Jim's patience.

Blair reached for Jim's hand. His eyes were alive and his grin was eager. "There's a bed right here. Now that we're all nice and clean, let's get each other dirty again."

Jim allowed himself to be led into the room, Blair backing up while facing him. He felt a renewed urge at his groin. He couldn't even remember the last time he'd had two arousals in such a short time.

"Under the covers, or on top?" Blair asked, still grinning.

Jim's gaze dropped to the twin bed. If they snuggled up together in such a small space, maybe they would be able to recapture their prior warmth.

"Under."

Blair's grin widened, as though he approved. He dropped Jim's hand and turned around. He bent over the bed, pulling the covers back.

Jim looked at Blair's ass. He'd seen it bare a dozen times. Now it was... something desirable. In the back of his mind, he wondered how that could be, how his perspective could have changed so much.

Blair turned around, just as Jim had taken a step closer to grab it.

Blair's eyes were full of knowledge, as though he'd read Jim's mind. "You or me first?" he flirted.

The one who got in first would be against the wall. A nice place to pin Blair. "You."

He followed Blair onto the narrow mattress, and they lay facing each other. Blair grabbed him where it counted. Jim covered Blair's mouth with his own, then lost all interest in being the aggressor.

He regained consciousness slowly, his loins tingling with satiation. Sticky residue leaked onto his left thigh. His left arm felt heavy, where most of his weight was upon it. His right hand was dotted with stickiness. Moving his fingers revealed smooth, limp flesh. Another finger felt a trace of fur.

He had held Blair. Pleasured him -- after Blair's perfect hands had pulled on his own so-eager hardness.

Blair grunted a warning when Jim's fingers moved again. Still sensitive.  Jim took his hand away. He brushed it against his right thigh, not sure if he wanted to clean it off.

He groaned out loud, needing an outlet for his state of bliss. He let his eyes crack open.

Blair's eyes, a few inches from his, were slowly opening.

Blair swallowed. He looked sated and eager and worried, all at once.

Blair's lips had tasted so good when Jim had been receiving his attentions... and then given his own.

He leaned forward and kissed Blair briefly. The warm softness of his flesh, the flavor of his breath, still tasted so good.

Jim's backside was exposed from beneath the twin bed covers but he felt hot. He pushed the covers toward Blair.

The motion brought Blair fully awake. His eyes now held hope. "I want this," he said in a small voice.

Jim closed his eyes. Fearing that could be interpreted as shutting Blair out, he opened them again. Blair's eyes were searching his. "I--I do, too," Jim said.

"But?"  Blair frowned.

Jim couldn't stand that pained expression. His left hand gripped Blair's arm, where it was resting against the mattress. "It's all right," he assured, not knowing if it truly was.

No, he was sure. It was all right. At this particular moment, it was.

Blair sat up, while keeping his back against the wall. "You sound hesitant."

Jim moved his legs so that they dropped to the floor. He then knelt beside the bed, facing Blair. "I-I'm not very good at this."  He didn't want to feel this vulnerable, but he couldn't lie. Not to those hopeful eyes. He brushed his hand over the bed, to indicate what "this" was.

The gesture wasn't enough. Blair said, "This being...?"

"In bed."  Jim tried not to get impatient at having to explain. "With... sleeping with the same person more than once."

Blair's brow furrowed. Then, with a touch of puzzled humor, he said, "Jim, you were married."

"But I-I wasn't any good at it. At pleasing Carolyn."

Blair slowly shook his head, outright confusion on his face. "I know you said she was unhappy with you, but -- "

"In the bedroom mainly," Jim provided. He couldn't sink any lower than he was at this moment, could he?  "She never... you know...."

"You mean... she didn't have orgasms?"

Jim shook his head, lowering his eyes in shame.

Blair inched closer on the mattress. "Jim, it takes two to make happy lovemaking. And as far... well, come on, man, the idea that it's all the man's responsibility to please the woman... well, that went out with the sexual revolution."

Jim couldn't look up. He didn't know how to explain himself.

He felt Blair's hand on his arm. It squeezed. "Jim, just because you and Carolyn had really bad chemistry together -- that hardly means you have bad chemistry with everybody. You certainly don't with me."

If only it could be explained away that simply. Jim rubbed a hand over his face. Keeping his gaze lowered, he said, "Years ago, after I was pulled out of Peru, I was on R and R in Bali. There was this woman," he couldn't help but smile, remembering, "named Lila. We hit it off. Spent an entire, wonderful week together."  His smile went away. "Then she just up and... disappeared. The desk clerk said she'd checked out that morning. No goodbyes. No nothing."

"Jim, that could have been for a hundred different reasons, including maybe she was married and she didn't want to risk her husband ever finding out."

"I don't think so. My instincts are better than that. But I'll never know."

"She certainly wouldn't have stayed with you a week if she wasn't enjoying her time with you."

"Maybe," Jim relented, then wet his lips to prepare for telling Blair his greatest humiliation.

"But --" Blair protested.

Jim shifted uncomfortably, leaning his forearms on the mattress, staring at the sheet. "When I was in the army, there was this woman I was seeing."  His heart sped up and he wasn't sure if it was anger or grief that he was remembering most. "Veronica was beautiful, smart, sexy, fun.... Sensual.  Everything I could ever imagine wanting. I was working up the courage to propose to her. One day as I was coming to see her at the officer's club, I saw her kissing my best friend."  Jim felt his eyes fill. It still hurts this much, all these years later.

Blair made a little in-drawn breath.

"They ended up in Hawaii together. Later, I got a wedding invitation in the mail."  He took note of the weave of the striped sheet on Blair's bed, as he remembered tearing up the invitation.

"God, Jim, that's rotten. That's awful. What kind of friend does that?"

Jim looked up. He snapped, "She wouldn't have wanted him if I'd given her what she needed."  Blair's face was getting blurry.

Jim felt a finger brush against his lower eyelid. He was fascinated by his own lack of embarrassment as a tear fell. He knew he was being the worst sort of self-pitying jerk. "I can't ever fulfill what other people want. They always leave."

You have definite issues regarding abandonment.  The words of the damned Cascade PD therapist came back to him.

Hands settled on his face. Warm, strong hands. Blair's breath whispered across his face as he said, "All those rotten relationships weren't because of you.  If I thought that every girl who didn't want to sleep with me again thought I was lousy in bed... well, I would have slit my wrists years ago."  Nervous chuckle, then, more sober, "Jim, with women, they have the whole emotional thing connected to sex. Their emotions have to be engaged. If their emotions aren't, then the physical experience usually doesn't mean much to them. They have to have the whole package, not just the moment. If Carolyn was angry about other things or thinking about the next game to bet on... there's no way she was going to let herself yield to pleasure in bed."  Blair finished gently, "It's not your fault, Jim. It isn't."

Jim leaned his forehead against Blair's. He wanted to believe. But he'd believed before and the endings had been so painfully bad.

Blair moved back, but he still held Jim's face in his hands. "I'm scared, too, Jim. So scared."

Jim looked up, his heart clenching with empathy.

"I-I don't know how to have this. Now that I've had a little taste of it, I want to keep it, but I don't know how to do that. You pleased me, Jim. So much. Not just because it felt good there.  But it felt good all over."  He spoke with a soft, fragile whisper. "It felt right."

Jim rose up to the bed and gathered Blair into his arms, then relaxed back against the pillows.

Blair's head rested on Jim's shoulder. "Maybe we can help each other do this. Do it right."

Jim kissed Blair's temple, letting his lips linger there.

Anxiously, Blair said, "Don't let me have a taste of this and then withhold it from me."

"I won't," Jim whispered. He rested his chin on the top of Blair's head. "I love you, Blair."  That was the one thing he knew with absolute certainty.

Blair bumped Jim's chin as he tilted his head back to look up at him. "Oh, man, Jim. I love you, too."  His arms pulled tight. "I think I have for a long time."

Jim rubbed up and down Blair's arm. "Have you been waiting for me to say something?"

"Noo," Blair drawled hesitantly. "I just wanted.  I'm not sure what. Then," he spoke faster, "the past few days, I thought I felt you drawing back after it seemed we'd been so close lately."  Thick swallow. "I was really sorry to lose that closeness."  He kissed Jim's cheek.

"I didn't mean to draw back," Jim said, loving how comfortable everything felt right at this moment. "I wanted something, too. But I couldn't put the wanting into words. I couldn't bring myself to think of us like this. At least, not for more than a moment."

"You ever do anything with a guy?"

Jim shook his head. "No. I've never felt anything other than a mild curiosity. But the idea itself has never bothered me."

Blair's weight rested more heavily against Jim, and he sighed. "Remember, when I was still recovering from my accident and we went to that park and saw those kids playing with their GI Joes?"

"Uh-huh," Jim said, wondering what that memory had to do with anything.

"And I told you what I did with my cousin's GI Joes?"

"Uh-huh."  Blair had positioned them all for a huge orgy, after pulling down their pants.

"I think I've always had a fascination about it -- guys doing it. In retrospect, I was probably well on my way to a bisexual future. Then -- " Blair swallowed.

"What?" Jim prompted gently, his lips close to Blair's ear.

"I got that ulcer, only they thought it might be colitis, at first. All those doctor exams brought back a lot of painful memories from when I used to get constipated a lot. Plus, it was embarrassing and didn't feel good, physically or otherwise. I think I sort of made a point of being exclusively heterosexual after that, even though I figured that guys didn't have to participate in that kind of stuff to please each other. But still, I don't want anyone to touch me there."

Jim wished he could have protected Blair from all that past discomfort. He kissed his forehead again, grateful that Blair had told him, so he'd know what not to do. "I won't," he vowed.

Blair looked up at him. "Maybe... someday...."

Jim found it hard to even imagine them having sex with any degree of regularity. He wondered if they were mismatched already.

It was so important that they be honest with each other, no matter how much it hurt or scared them, if they were to have any chance at all. "Blair?"

Blair took Jim's hand, entwining their fingers, and lay back against the pillow nearest the wall. He was on his side, partially sprawled over Jim. "Yeah?"

Jim rubbed at Blair's lip. "I've never been... you know... very interested, in the long run."

"You mean after the first date?"

Jim wasn't sure how to answer, because yes or no seemed too simple.

Blair squeezed his hand. "Maybe it's because you've been so unlucky and so unhappy. Maybe because you've felt pressured."

"Maybe it was never that satisfying," Jim decided.

"What about today?"

"Of course I liked it," Jim said softly. "I just don't know if the urge is going to be there very often."

"Maybe it won't."  Blair's eyes had come alive as he knelt up, still holding Jim's hand. "But look, Jim, you don't have to do anything to please me. I mean," he added with a smile, "just being with you... I guarantee you that I'll have plenty of pleasure, with us doing no more than what we've just done."  His eyes glowed. "Oh, man."  His finger ran down Jim's chest. "I can't wait to play with you. All those sentinel sensitivities...."

Jim was out of the bed before a coherent thought had crossed his mind. Where are my clothes?  They weren't here; they were in the bathroom.

"Jim?  Jim?"  Blair grabbed his arm from behind but Jim jerked it away. "Please.  I know what you're thinking. Please listen. Please."  

Out of the corner of his eye, Jim saw Blair plop down on the bed, his face buried in his hands.

Oh, God.  Jim turned from the doorway and knelt before Blair. "Blair, I'm sorry. I'm sorry."  He lightly gripped Blair's arm. "I'm sorry." Already, he'd messed this up. Hurt Blair.

Blair's eyes were moist but they held firm as they locked onto Jim's. His voice was sure and confident. "I love you, Jim. I love all of you. I don't love your abilities exclusive of you. They are a part of you and I want to take advantage of that any way that I can."

"I know," Jim said. "I'm sorry. I couldn't help -- "

"I know," Blair emphasized. "If nowhere else," he whispered, "at least let bed be the place where you can happily integrate the man you are with the special sensitivities you have. I can do that for you. I want to do that for you."  He tried to smile. "And for me."

Jim couldn't shove aside his insecurities. "And when you're finished with me?" he asked harshly.

Blair slipped his arms around Jim's neck. "I'll love you over and over in all the ways I've learned are your most favorite."

That sounded like such a selfless promise. Jim couldn't predict the future, but he found it hard to be optimistic. "You're going to be sorry for getting mixed up with me."

Blair shook his head. "The one thing I've never been -- ever -- is sorry that I've gotten mixed up with you."  His eyes gazed at Jim for a long time. "You're my everything."

Shit.  He rested his forehead against Blair's again.

Blair's hands rubbed along Jim's sides. "We're going to work this out," he vowed. "As long as we both keep trying."  He raised his head and waited until Jim looked into his eyes. "I promise you that it'll be the biggest effort I've ever made toward anything in my life. I know it's going to be worth it."

Jim hoped he could share that faith.

Mechanically, Blair graded a stack of pop quizzes against the answer key.

He couldn't get his mind off what had happened a few days before. He and Jim. Together. He kept thinking finally, and then he'd remind himself that he'd never consciously wanted or anticipated their relationship moving in that direction.

Now things were wonderful and exciting and very scary.

They hadn't done anything sexually since. Nor had they slept together. "Let's take it slow", Jim had said the evening after their first time. Blair had agreed and suggested, "We'll keep sleeping in our own beds until it seems right."  Jim had seemed relieved. Yet, he had also continued to be warm and affectionate, and sometimes initiated chaste kisses.

The past two nights, Blair had lain in his bed alone, wondering how it would be when he and Jim started sleeping together.

He knew Jim felt pressured, despite the assurances Blair had tried to give him that they didn't have to rush anything. He'd had no idea that Jim had those hang-ups about sex or, more importantly, that Jim seemed to genuinely think that he was "bad" at it.

God.

All Blair knew was that when Jim's big hand had taken charge of his cock -- those sensitive sentinel fingers applying pressure in all the right places -- some part of Blair had decided that it could never be better with anyone else.

Speaking of anyone else, they'd called off their bet regarding Blair's month-long celibacy. Since Jim had been generous by pointing out that the bet only applied to sex with women, Blair had been generous by calling off the bet altogether, two days before Jim would have lost and had been stuck with all the house cleaning chores for the next month.

Blair was happy now to be celibate -- concerning any partner except Jim.

He shuddered when recollecting how Jim had jumped up from the bed after Blair mentioned his sentinel senses.  Thankfully, that little crisis had been nipped in the bud right away.

Jim and his senses -- always such a difficult combination, except when Jim had a specific task at hand, such as trying to collect evidence, save a life, or nab a suspect. 
 
Maybe, before long, Jim could accept simple physical pleasure as a legitimate reason to engage his special abilities.

If Blair could do that -- pleasure Jim -- it would be the most wonderful thing he'd ever done in his life.

Jim reached for the cordless when it rang. "Ellison."

"Jim?" a female voice said.

Jim grabbed the remote and muted the television. "Hi, Naomi. Blair's out running errands. Did you try his cell?"

"Yes. It gave me one of those messages about not being available. He must have it turned off."

Or he let the battery run down again.  "I'll tell him you called when he gets in."

"Thanks. So, how are things with you?"

Jim was caught off guard by the casual inquiry. "Fine."  Great, actually, because your son and I are involved.  Not that he was sure when they would be ready to get "involved" again.

"Now, Jim," she scolded playfully, "I know you can be a little more forthcoming than that. Any interesting cases?"

"Always. Really, Naomi, it's just the usual."  Jim was impatient to get her off the phone. "Bad guys are bad. Good guys chase the bad guys. Sometimes, good guys catch the bad guys. Bad guys usually get off on a technicality. Sometimes, bad guys go to jail and good guys win."

She laughed girlishly. "Blair has never made it sound that interesting. How's he doing, by the way?"

That question surprised Jim even more. Was she asking casually, or was she asking for something deeper?  The latter idea reminded him that he wasn't too happy with her lately. But still, he wouldn't feel right bad-mouthing Blair's mother when Blair himself didn't want to blame her for her past decisions.

"He's fine, Naomi."  Jim was aware that his voice had gone flat. He resisted the urge to blame her for all of Blair's childhood maladies. It would serve no purpose now.

It wasn't enough that you bargained him away from his father, was it?  

"How's his dissertation going?"

Jim stood, feeling antsy at her barrage of unexpected questions. Did Naomi know that Blair had changed his thesis subject?  Probably not, since she probably hadn't known it was about sentinels to begin with. "It's going fine."

She laughed good-naturedly. "You're a lousy conversationalist, Jim."

So Carolyn always told me.

It was just enough of a sore subject to make him throw caution to the wind. He paced about the room as he talked. "Naomi, I can't pretend to be okay about how you've handled telling Blair about his paternity, let alone his brother."

She fell silent, and he could hear her nervous breathing on the other end of the line.

"He wanted to talk to you when you last visited."

"We did talk."  She sounded sincere.

Jim's mind filled with the image of the destroyed futon and he was jolted all over again by the frustration and pain that had led to that rage. "Not about the stuff that mattered to him." Jim wanted to meet her halfway. "I know he puts on a brave front, so he can be hard to read sometimes." Except when he's in love and his love is overflowing the furniture. He stopped his pacing. "He wanted you to tell him about Tim."

"I told him all I could remember," she said softly.

Jim sighed, believing her. "Yeah, I-I suppose you did. I'm sorry, Naomi. It's just -- it's hard seeing him hurt and knowing there's nothing I can do."

"You care about him so much. I'm so glad."

You've no idea.  Jim felt a flush go through him, a longing. Come home, buddy. Let's try loving again. "I'll tell Blair that you called."

"Thanks, Jim."  She suddenly seemed as eager as he to end the conversation. "I'll talk to you soon."

"Goodbye, Naomi."  Jim cut the line.

He wanted to call Blair and suggest that he come home but Naomi had said that Blair's cell phone wasn't on.

Jim tried, anyway, and got the "not available" message. Dammit, Chief.

He had to leave for work in an hour and Blair was planning to come in with him. So, they wouldn't have time for anything, anyway.

Jim rubbed his hand over his face.  He wanted to suggest that Blair sleep with him tonight. But he didn't want to suggest it while they were at work, as he was hesitant to mix work with their private lives.

He put the phone down on the kitchen counter and gazed into Blair's room through the open doors.

He marched in. If he couldn't have Blair in front of him right now, he could at least appease his longing by reading Blair's thoughts, albeit months or years old.

He opened one of the spiral notebooks.

        Jim did it again today. 
We were heading in one direction, and suddenly an emergency call came in and he whipped the truck around in another direction. I'm sitting there, safely in my shoulder harness, and Jim puts him arm out over me as he makes the super-sharp turn, like he's protecting me from being thrown out. 
        It makes me want to laugh and tease him but I don't dare. I'm afraid he'd stop doing it. I don't want him to stop, even though there's no reason for it.
        Of course, I can't help but consider the sentinel implications. But really, I think it's just Jim Ellison being Jim Ellison. Wanting to protect the innocent. I am an innocent civilian bystander of sorts. I know he'd react that way toward anyone who was sitting in the passenger seat.
        Still, I've enjoyed the fact that it's me. I can't help but add it to my mental list of, "Things Jim does to say 'I love you'."  I wonder if he realizes how many things there are.
        Probably. Maybe he'd even be offended that it would be a question. 
        I'm used to people taking an immediate liking to me, because I'm friendly. But it's like it only goes so deep -- probably because I'm giving off signals that say I can't handle deep. I'm used to loving whole-heartedly, then letting go. So, it's a given that I'm not loving very deeply (even though I think I am), or else it wouldn't be so easy to let go.
        Anyway, I know I'm way overanalyzing, but I enjoy looking for signs that Jim is really fond of me. Naomi was verbal about everything and didn't back up much with action. Jim doesn't want to verbalize much at all, but his actions are all over the place. Naomi used to say things that she ended up not following through with, or just plain weren't true. I guess, with Jim never saying much about touchy-feely stuff, it prevents him from contradicting his own 'I love you' actions. In a sense, that makes his messages more 'pure'.
        I was looking for more examples -- from more people I've known -- with the above, because I don't like comparing Naomi and Jim to each other. But I can't think of anybody I've felt as intimate with (in a non-sexual way) as Naomi and Jim. Sheesh. That's such a pathetic thought -- that I've only been close, long-term, to two people in my whole life -- that I'm ending this entry and going to find an afternoon soap opera to drown my self-pitying depression in.

Jim flipped the page, confident that Blair was exaggerating his "self-pitying depression" or, at least, that it hadn't lasted very long.

He found quite a few subsequent pages that detailed the situation in the forest with Quinn, when he and Blair had gone looking for Simon. But Blair was back to "academic" mode and didn't say much about his personal feelings, other than referring to himself in passing as "the moron who ended up being a burden to Jim and Simon."

Jim remembered how scared and near-panicked Blair had been after being shot. But here, in his journal, he spoke of his injury in a distant, matter-of-fact way. He spent a lot of pages analyzing the psychology of cops and criminals. He apparently had talked to Simon at length about the time he'd spent in Quinn's custody.

Jim moved on until he found a more personal entry.

        I wonder why Jim and Carolyn never had children. I'm guessing they didn't feel they had time for a child. Or maybe they felt their relationship wasn't mature or secure enough yet to bring a child into their marriage. Or maybe one or both didn't like children.
        I just know that Jim is really good with young people. Once he got to know Stacey Neumann, he was really good with her, even considering her schoolgirl crush. I think a part of his ego really gets off on being a positive influence on others, as it should. 
        I really think he would make a good father. He's fair-minded and wants to guide others to do the right thing. He has no patience for fools or stupidity but he's loving in his criticism when he knows you couldn't have known better. He'd have to work on being more open with verbal communication though; I mean, about emotional things. He's a good role model for being cool-headed when one needs to be.
         Hmmm. If Jim had a child, would he or she be a sentinel?
        Whatever Jim and Carolyn's reasons, it just dawned on me that Jim wouldn't want to have a child with sentinel abilities. He would see it as bringing a life into the world with an albatross around its neck. Man, that's sad. It bothers me a lot to know that Jim's genealogy is going to die out. Not that it's been established that there's a direct link of sentinel abilities passing from parent to child. In fact, probably not or someone in Jim's brother's family would have sentinel abilities. The genes obviously skip some generations. Still....

The lock in the door rattled.

Jim tossed the notebook onto the stack and left Blair's room, even though he knew that Blair wouldn't mind catching him in the act of reading more of the journals.

"Hey," Blair greeted. "I'm going to catch a shower before we leave."

"Naomi called," Jim said, just now remembering.

"Did she just 'call' or did she want something?"

Jim shrugged. "She was feeling talkative. Told me I was a lousy conversationalist."  

Blair grinned as he hung up his jacket. "She just doesn't know how to yank your chain."

"What are you saying?" Jim feigned offense. "That I'm predictable?"

Blair turned, his grin widening as he held out his arms. "Only to me."

They closed the gap between them and Jim relished the warm body that rested against his own, as their arms tightened around each other.

"Been thinking about you," Blair said.

"Mmm," Jim replied. He loosened his hold so that he could step back and look down at Blair, while keeping one arm around his waist. "I wish we had more time."

Blair's eyes lit with mischief. "More time to...?"

"You know," Jim said in a low voice, feeling bashful.

"I was hoping we could do it again, too. Maybe you can call in sick?"  

Jim's soft chuckle rumbled deep in his throat. Not a good idea. But...  "Why don't we sleep together tonight?" he whispered, running his finger down Blair's nose.

Blair swallowed, his expression becoming soft and eager. He nodded, his throat moving like he wanted to say something.

"Oh, man," he said after moment, his gaze on the floor while he made a small rocking motion. "It seems like such a big step."

"We don't have to," Jim assured. Please say yes. He wondered if it would help to clarify, "We don't have to... you know... do anything."

Blair snorted. "'Doing something is what I want to do."  His voice softened. "What I've been making myself crazy thinking about all day."

"You don't have to stay all night," Jim offered.

Blair finally looked up at him. "I want to stay all night."

Jim slowly traced Blair's dry lips with his index finger. He felt his groin harden as his fingertip continued to note the texture of Blair's lip. How would his mouth feel on my....

He gently pushed Blair away. "You better take that shower."

Blair puckered his lips, pointing his face up. "Kiss."

"That an order?" Jim asked with a laugh, his heart feeling wonderfully happy. He obliged... slowly...

He allowed his urges to surface and grabbed Blair by the arm while pressing with his mouth.

Blair was being tilted farther and farther back from the onslaught. Jim felt him tremble.

Jim regretfully pushed away from Blair. "Go," he commanded breathlessly, letting go of Blair's arm.

Blair did.

Sitting in the Major Crimes' conference room, Blair surveyed the various printouts from the government and the books he'd checked out earlier from the Rainier library. He glanced up at the clock.

9:38 PM.

He sighed. It had been a long shift. He and Jim had ended up deciding to take separate cars, because they both knew they had to avoid each other as much as possible, if they were going to make it through Jim's shift without acting on their urges. This evening, Jim seemed to be spending most of his time at his desk, either on the phone or on the computer.

Blair sat alone in the conference room, doing research on the case of a white-collar murder.

Even without being in Jim's presence, the shift had been tortuous. Blair kept getting a hard-on. He'd loved coming home and finding Jim eager for him. Then the suggestion... sleeping together. Blair intended for there to be a lot of activity before curling up to sleep.

He wondered what they would do to each other.
  
Not that it mattered. They were going to have a great time together. Snuggling up close... kissing... rubbing... fondling... pulling...

Sucking?

He could do sucking. He also hoped that he could play with Jim... experiment with what made him feel good on other parts of his body. Blair didn't expect sex with Jim to be like anything he'd ever known before.

He was so looking forward to discovering those unknowns.

"How's it going?" Simon asked, entering.

Blair looked up, not sure if he was grateful or annoyed at the distraction. "Slow. But I'm starting to see a pattern of $20,000 withdrawals that were coded to Entertainment Expenses. They must have been for the hits."

"Good work. Keep at it.  But why don't you call it quits for tonight?"

Blair hesitated. A compliment from Simon was so rare. "I just thought I'd stick around until Jim was ready to leave."

"He went down to Forensics to double-check something. He asked me to tell you to go home and 'be waiting for him.'  He said you'd understand."   Simon shook his head and grumbled, "Like I'm his damn messenger."

Blair smiled. "Thanks, Simon."  He stood and started to organize his stacks of papers, so he'd be able to pick up where he'd left off in the morning.

As soon as Simon left, Blair let phantom butterflies fly free in his stomach. Be waiting?

Oh, man.

Yeah, he could do that. Go home. Shower. Undress. Get in Jim's bed.

And wait.

Jim couldn't remember the last time he'd looked forward to sex. For so long now, it seemed, sex for him only happened in the moment. There had been no time to anticipate, no time to enjoy the building of sensation... of desire.

He blanked his mind, having no idea what to expect, as he turned the key to the apartment.

He entered, detecting the moisture of the shower and fragrances from the bathroom. Only a few necessary lights were on.

"Jim?"

Jim looked up.

Blair's nude upper body was looking down at him from his own bedroom. Blair had grasped the railing, giving a full view of his hairy chest.

I want to sleep with someone with a hairy chest. What a strange thought.

It was followed up by another:  He looks gorgeous. Eager. Hopeful.

Jim swallowed to clear his throat. "I-I'm just going to catch a quick shower. Then I'll be up."  He hoped Blair could see his smile in the dim light.

"I'll be waiting," Blair flirted. He moved away from the railing, so that Jim couldn't see him anymore.

Jim quickly undressed in the bathroom. As he showered, he refused to let all the old doubts enter his mind. It occurred to him that spur-of-the-moment sex was so much better, because there was no time to worry about what might happen. Instead, things just... happened.

He dried off thoroughly, not having his robe, since it was up in his room. He couldn't remember the last time he'd marched up to his room completely naked... at least, not when he knew there was somebody waiting.

But march he did, determined not to be shy. Blair was sitting up in bed, leaning back on his hands, the covers barely past his waist.

He held out his arms, welcoming Jim into his own bed.

Yes.

The contact of skin on skin, as Jim allowed himself to be taken into Blair's arms, was exquisite and delicious. He responded to the sensations and quickly had a full erection. Then Blair was pulling his head down, kissing him, and Jim was sinking... sinking... sinking....

... and rubbing against Blair in just the right way....

While still kissing, the sensation of ejaculating flushed through him and he was floating and tingly all over.

And miserable.

He dragged his lips away from Blair's and turned his head. "Sorry," he murmured, glad that he sounded normal. He didn't want to ruin this any more than it already was. Blair's heated skin still felt so desirable to his ultra-sensitive fingertips. Blair's hands were perfect the way they rested against his back.

"Sorry for what?" Blair whispered, kissing Jim's cheek, and then his neck.

Jim pushed away his annoyance that Blair was asking a question he already knew the answer to.  He allowed Blair to kiss his face a moment longer and then he hoisted himself up on his elbows, prompting Blair's sweet-feeling hands to fall away.

Since Jim didn't want to look at Blair, he glanced between their bodies at the sticky puddle he'd left.

"Mmmm," Blair purred, his open hand rubbing against Jim's smooth chest. "You must have been really turned on by me being in your bed, to be that eager."

Jim hesitated, unsure if Blair was really as pleased by Jim's failure at self-control as he seemed.

Blair arched awkwardly to kiss Jim's chin. "Let's heat you up again for round two."  He arms went around Jim's neck.

Jim couldn't do this. The lack of disappointment was too confusing. He was a stranger in a strange land, a lonely ship adrift on a vast ocean, and there was no one to understand anything he thought, did, or felt.

He rose up, his head still lowered, and maneuvered away from Blair, rolling onto his side.

The loving, welcoming atmosphere in the bed gave way.

"W-What?" Blair said from behind him. His breath was heavy, his voice puzzled... and hurt. "What did I do wrong?"  

Jim closed his eyes and fought the urge to push Blair away, so he would be left to himself.

Instead, he reached behind him, toward Blair. No matter what his issues, problems, or failures, he vowed to himself that he would hurt Blair as little as possible. It was unfortunate that such hurting could never be completely avoided.

Blair's clammy hand grasped his. Jim squeezed their intertwined fingers.

A tentative touch appeared at Jim's shoulder. "Jim?  What...?"

With a great force of will, Jim rolled onto his back. Blair had to shift out of his way, and Jim took the moment to wrap his arm around him and gently press Blair's head to his shoulder. This way, he could enjoy his closeness without having to face him.

"You didn't do anything wrong."  Jim heard the gruffness in his own voice. To have something to do, he stretched to the nightstand and yanked some tissues from the box. He handed Blair a few.

As both cleaned themselves, Blair kept his eyes on Jim. "Then why did you go cold on me all of a sudden?"  His tone still carried a shaken plea.

Jim knew he had to swallow his medicine. He let the tissue fall over the edge of the bed, and he lay back and looked at the ceiling. "I was sorry I came so fast. I thought you'd be upset."

Blair raised his head, his large eyes staring at Jim. "Why?  Why would I be upset that you were so excited by joining me in bed?  I was flattered."

Jim didn't say anything.

"Besides, I thought we were going to do this all night. There's plenty of time to do it over and over again."  Blair's voice went dry. "Unless you have some kind of condition..."

Jim closed his eyes, regretting that his silence was making Blair try so hard. "It's not that."

"I didn't think so," Blair said, still puzzled. "After all, the other day, you know," a smile grew in his voice, "we did it a couple of times within an hour or so."

Jim wanted Blair happy and eager again. He turned to him and planted his lips on Blair's. They were so soft. The haired skin of quivering Blair's belly felt good as Jim's hand brushed across it.

Blair pushed him away. "I can't do this. I can't do this without understanding why you shut down on me."  His voice immediately softened as he curled up at Jim's side and laid a hand on his chest. "You have to talk to me, Jim, before we can do anything else. Because I can't handle being batted back and forth, especially not in our bed."

Our bed.  No threats to leave the bed or the room. No telling him how inconsiderate or ungrateful or insensitive he was. No hints that there was something better waiting elsewhere. Just a heartfelt confession of Blair's own feelings.

Jim closed his eyes and slowly rubbed up and down Blair's arm. "Give me a minute," he said, not knowing how he could possibly explain himself. Yet, not so long ago, wasn't that the position Blair had been in, when he'd told Jim about how he didn't know how to "do the long-term relationship thing"?

Whatever self-doubts he possessed, he needed to keep in mind that Blair had doubts at least as strong. Therefore, it would be easy for Blair to misinterpret any unease between them as a flaw of his own conduct, which couldn't be further from the truth.

Jim opened his eyes when the bed rocked. Blair sat cross-legged beside him. He picked up Jim's hand and held it in both his own. He said, "The one thing I have plenty of, where you're concerned, is time."

Jim glanced at him, finding Blair's expression hopeful and compassionate.

Jim eased his hand from Blair's gentle grip and rested it on the closest knee. "This has always been difficult for me," he explained, trying to sound casual.

"This?" Blair repeated. "You mean sex?  Or -- "

Jim shook his head, uncertain of the right words. "It's okay when it's spontaneous. When... it's all lust and passion and desire."  His chest tightened. "When it's... planned... expected... it's," he closed his eyes and released a breath. Then he mumbled, "Seems like I always get it wrong."

"Get it wrong how?"

Blair was looking at him so intently. Jim would have laughed -- with great affection -- if he hadn't felt such an obligation to respond to Blair's seriousness. "I don't know. Nothing ever seems very right about it."   

"But nothing went 'wrong' tonight."

"It felt like it did. I thought you would be disappointed that I finished so fast."

Blair slowly shook his head. "No way. Plus, it seemed like an exciting beginning, not a 'finish'."  He leaned over him. "Jim, is it... have you... you know, always had a problem with... whatever they call it?  Premature ejaculation?"

Jim snorted, wondering if Blair would ever be able to understand him, especially since he didn't understand himself. Morosely, he replied, "Premature ejaculation. Not being able to give her an orgasm. Not enough foreplay. Not lasting long enough. Not doing it in the most comfortable position. Not doing it in the most exciting position. You name it, I've failed at it."  He knew Blair would feel compassion for him but he still felt humiliated.

He decided to kick himself further still. "Not exactly the sentinel sex machine you were hoping for, am I?"  He looked toward the far wall, not wanting to see Blair's expression.

"I wasn't looking for a sex machine."  Blair sat back, this time next to Jim, leaning against the railing. His hand settled on Jim's head. "I was looking forward to making love with the person I love."

Jim swallowed.

"Jim?  Is it that you've never had any kind of sexual relationship with anyone that lasted very long?  Except for Carolyn?"

"I wouldn't say Carolyn and I had a sexual 'relationship'. We made love, she complained. I lost interest."  Jim considered a moment, remembering. "We still did it but I was always glad when it was over. It felt like a duty. And she didn't like how I did it, anyway."

"Man, it just seems like you two would have talked about it or something."  Blair almost seemed to be talking to himself.

"We did," Jim said forcefully, then relented, "or rather, she did. She'd complain. Leave hints around. Magazine articles, things like that. About how I was supposed to touch her."  He felt the old anger rising to the surface. "As though that's all our problems came down to -- technique. Never mind her gambling. Never mind that she wasn't happy with much else I did or didn't do."

"What about before you and she were married?  What was it like?"

"It seemed fine then."  Jim's heart clenched at the memory of yet another betrayal. "Later, she told me she'd been faking it."

Blair shook his head in disbelief. Then, gently, he asked, "So, there was never anyone -- before or since -- who made you feel really good in bed?  I mean, beyond the first spontaneous time?"

"Just Lila and Veronica, and I already told you how those turned out."  Jim shook his head. "Most of it is probably my fault, since I've reached the point where I expect sex to be a disaster. Maybe I've never tried very hard because I didn't see how the result could be any different."  He finally looked up at Blair. He felt his throat tighten. "I want it to be different with you. But nothing's changed in me."

A gentle smile formed at Blair's mouth. "Things are different," he whispered in reassurance, his open hand sliding across Jim's ribs. "Not because I know any more than you do -- I don't. I've never had a long-term sexual relationship at all. But I've always been aware that it's because I didn't want to get emotionally involved."  

He paused, his smile fading. "I want to get emotionally involved, Jim. With you. All I ask from you, in bed, is that you do whatever you want.  Just tell me if you don't like anything that I do and I won't do it anymore."  

Jim reached to the back of Blair's head and encouraged him to make a pillow of his chest. He rubbed Blair's head and shoulders. "I want it, too," he said, feeling the vulnerability in his own voice. "I'm just not sure if I can -- " he swallowed thickly.

"The only thing I can see that you're lacking is self-confidence."  Blair planted a kiss below Jim's ribs. "You don't have anything to apologize for."  He looked up again, a plea in his eyes. "Don't fear me, Jim. Don't ever be afraid to tell me anything."

"I love you."  The words were suddenly out of his mouth.

Blair looked up at him from beneath long lashes. And then he kissed him.

"You with us, Ellison?"

Jim started out of his reverie. "Uh... yeah."  He didn't care that it was such a transparent lie, since a part of his subconscious had been well trained in the art of listening. "Joel is going to see Patterson again and I'm going to see if I can find Ramirez and get him to talk. When Sandburg gets here this afternoon, he'll have a summary of all the data on the bribe money."

"Uh-huh," Simon said, doubt in his voice, despite the perfect recall. Then he said, "All right, let's get to it."

Joel left first. As Jim turned to follow, Simon grabbed him by the shoulder and said, "Don't drive with the same lack of attention you showed at this meeting."  He released him.

"Uh... yes, sir."  Jim made his exit. He took the stairs down to the police garage.

He'd behaved like such a jerk after getting into bed with Blair last night that the mood had been destroyed. But, somehow, it had ended up all right. He and Blair had lain close together and talked. And then came the affectionate touches, which gradually became passionate. Eventually, they'd snuggled up together in post-orgasmic bliss. They'd awakened in the middle of the night and started over, Blair being all the more assertive that time and Jim relishing the opportunity to lie back and be loved. Blair touched him here... there... rubbed this...scratched that... blew on this little nub... licked that little indentation. He was so patient about it all, so interested in how Jim's body responded.

Blair had taken him in his mouth toward the end. Very awkwardly at first, but then falling into a motion of deep sucking while tugging backward in a distinct rhythm. And he had swallowed the emission.

That was something Jim doubted he could ever do, because of his heightened sense of taste, but he realized that Blair wouldn't expect him to. Blair wouldn't need explanations.

Blair made things... easy. And fun.

Jim woke with the hope that he could actually enjoy sex again. It didn't have to be something full of pressure and judgment.

Yet, there was the little voice in the back of his mind that whispered if something seemed too good to be true, it probably was.

Still, his thoughts, all morning, had been about how good it had felt being in bed with Blair -- sleeping, talking, loving.

He wanted to repeat it all again tonight.

They did it in a different order this time. The talking came later.  As Jim reached down to pull Blair closer, grasping his rear, he remembered too late what Blair had told him their first time.

But Blair didn't react, other than snuggling closer against him.

Jim squeezed the generous mound in his grip. "You okay with this?"

"I like it," Blair replied easily. Then, as though realizing why Jim was asking, "I just don't want anyone spreading my cheeks and messing with my butt hole."

Jim's other hand reached to stroke Blair's hair. "Tell me about that."  

Blair emitted a humorless chuckle. "It's not really a 'that' but just sort of a culmination of things. When I was a little kid, I got constipated a lot, and Naomi was always trying to stick these enema nozzles up me. The more she did it, the more I hated it, and the more traumatic the whole thing was, for both of us. I grew out of the problem, I guess, but then I had those other gastro situations. I've just had my fill of being messed with back there."

Jim hugged Blair closer, wishing again that he could offer solace to that hurt and confused child. "You had a lot of physical problems to overcome as a child, didn't you?"

"Did I?"  Blair asked seriously, looking up at Jim. "I guess I've never thought about it before. You know, when you're a kid, you tend to think that other kids go through the same things that you do."

"You've had all those digestive problems, vision problems, anxiety attacks. I think that's a lot, Chief. It's a credit to your strength and resilience that you overcame it all and became a healthy adult."

Blair was thoughtful. "I guess it's when I went away to college that I started being proactive about my own nutrition and mental health. That's why I'm such a stickler about things I eat and stuff like that."  

"I'm sorry you had it so rough."

Blair shrugged. "It didn't seem that rough, except for a few times."  He laid his hand on Jim's lower chest, then shifted to rest his cheek on it. "No matter what, though, I always knew that I was loved."  His voice quieted. "I don't think a lot of kids have that. I don't think you did."

"Maybe not," Jim said, not wanting to discuss it.  He stroked Blair's hair back from his face. "But I have it now. That's what's most important."  He took great satisfaction in watching Blair smile at him.

They loved each other off and on throughout the rest of the night.

END PART THREE   

PART FOUR

Comments to regmoore@earthlink.net