Distractions Part 1

DISTRACTIONS

(c) Dec 2004 by Charlotte Frost

PART ONE

Blair yawned as he came off the elevator. It was after midnight and he was looking forward to twelve hours of sleep after a long day at Rainier's library. Jim had tomorrow off, so he wouldn't need to accompany him to the PD.

He fished out his key as he approached unit 302.

He abruptly stopped and read the note posted there.

Chief,

I would appreciate it if you could get lost for the night. So, be a pal and find something fun to do.

I owe you.

Love,
Jim

JimJimJim, Blair chided. You've got a lady in your bed, huh?

Blair pressed his ear to the door.

Silence.

Probably already in the sack and doing the deed. He grinned, enjoying the idea of a very happy Jim in the morning.

He wondered who she was. Jim hadn't mentioned anything about seeing anybody, let alone having a date for the night. Yet, she must be somebody special for Jim to bother with a note. And sign it Love, Jim.

Ah-hah, buddy boy, I've got blackmail material to last the next year. Blair carefully lifted the note from the door, so the tape went with it and didn't tear, folded it, and put it in his backpack.

Now what was he supposed to do with himself for the rest of the night?

He got back on the elevator and went down to the first floor. He came outside, where it had started to drizzle, and looked back up at the third floor window. He was tempted to throw a rock at it, just to give Jim a hard time.

Nah. Let him enjoy the arms of love. Blair would be able to get all the details in the morning.

It was dawn when Blair was back on his way to 852 Prospect. He kept trying to stretch the kinks out of his shoulders. He'd spent the night on the couch of a grad student he'd known a long time. He'd slipped out as early as possible with a note of thanks.

Now, he didn't feel guilty about interrupting whatever morning activities were taking place at the loft.

Sure enough, as he approached the door, he heard sounds of cooking. He inserted his key and turned the lock.

Jim looked up. He was dressed in his brown robe and standing over the stove, where eggs were frying.

A woman sat at the table, sipping coffee. She was dressed in Blair's blue robe, one shapely leg crossed over the other. She had short auburn hair that curled around her face.

"Hey, Chief," Jim greeted. He nodded toward the woman. "I hope you don't mind...."

"No, no, not at all," Blair said as he approached the woman and held out his hand. "I'm Blair, Jim's roommate."

"Cathy." She shook his hand with a pleasant smile, then glanced down at herself. "Sorry about having to borrow - "

"No, it's fine. It looks better on you than it does on me."

Blair couldn't remember a Cathy. Obviously, coming back to Jim's place hadn't been planned, since she hadn't thought to bring a robe.

He wondered if she were nude beneath it.

Probably not. She wasn't wearing a bra, but she probably had panties on. Moist with Jim's seed.

Blair hesitated, wondering if he should politely excuse himself to his room, catch a shower to more fully wake himself up, or give Cathy and Jim a hard time by joining them at breakfast and pretending he didn't know they'd prefer to be alone.

"If you haven't had breakfast, there's enough here for three."

Oh. Jim wanted him to stay.

Okay, that wasn't so strange. Jim had that I-got-laid gleam in his eye, so now he was probably worried about handling an acceptable post-coital conversation.

Blair could definitely assist in that department. "Great. Thanks." He tossed his backpack into his room, then moved around Jim to pour himself coffee.

Bread popped up from the toaster.

"How about putting in a couple more slices?" Jim said.

"Sure."

Blair put the two browned pieces on a saucer, and covered them with another saucer to keep them warm. He then placed two more slices in the toaster.

Blair wanted to ask how Jim and Cathy had met, but he didn't know if he was 'supposed' to already know about Cathy, and didn't want to risk putting Jim on the spot by saying something he shouldn't.

Five minutes later they were all sitting at the table with eggs, toast, orange juice, and coffee.

After eating a few moments, Cathy looked up at Blair. "Jim says that you do some research work at Rainier?"

Blair nodded. Cathy's question appeared genuine, and not as though she was politely inviting him into the conversation. He glanced at Jim, who was happily engrossed in breakfast, so decided that he could talk all he wanted. "Yeah. I'm helping a friend with a project on studying the cooperation between different cultures in the workplace. We've got grants from a few large corporation with overseas offices."

He didn't elaborate on the rest of the story. He was now a Ph.D., thanks to the threat of lawsuit against Rainier. They had apologized for ejecting him from school, and gave him his doctorate degree to save face and put the incident behind them. Blair had thrown together a thesis on the similarities of primitive tribes and modern police departments. His heart hadn't been in it, because he knew it was just a formality so they could give him his doctorate and be done with him. So the effort was minimal, and while it was published, he doubted anyone in Rainier's anthropology department actually read it. Therefore, his Ph.D., while a relief, felt like an empty victory.

More important had been threatening Sid Graham's publishing company with a lawsuit. Out of deference to his mother's and Sid's past relationship, Blair had only pursued a public apology and enough money to pay off all his student loans. In exchange for signing an agreement that he would never sue over the matter, he received an additional hundred thousand. It had seemed like a lot at the time, but he was surprised how quickly it was eroding away. Last month, he'd socked away the bulk of the remainder into a long-term CD so he wouldn't be tempted to squander it. He'd been looking for signs that Jim expected him to move out - now that he could afford to - and he was relieved that no such signs had emerged.

Cathy made noises of interest to his reply, but he was certain she made no connection to the uproar over his original thesis. By the time Sid Graham had apologized, the media had more dramatic things to focus on, so gave little attention to the retraction.

That had been four months ago and almost a year since his mother had caused such a mess. Since then, Blair continued working with Jim, but it was obvious Jim was only using his senses when absolutely necessary. Though they hadn't discussed it, Blair was certain Jim's conscious return to normalcy was to subdue any lingering suspicions from their fellow detectives.

Blair hoped that time had healed those suspicions and Jim would start being more aggressive. It was all he could do to not badger Jim at times when he was certain Jim's senses could have been an asset. But he could understand his friend's reluctance all too well, so he had stayed silent.

In the meantime, he was getting paid a small salary by helping out Rick Feldman with his research project. It was an interesting study and Blair could do the work at odd hours. They had an agreement that he would never put in more than 20 hours a week, so Feldman could afford him. It, at least, had provided some pocket change.

Other than that, Blair was content to hang out with Jim.

"Blair?" Cathy said.

"The butter," Jim prompted.

"Oh, sorry." Blair grabbed the tub of margarine and handed it over to Cathy.

"Absent-minded professor," Jim grumbled good-naturedly.

Blair made noises of protest, though he felt complimented by Jim calling him "professor".

A few minutes later Cathy gathered Blair's robe about herself. "I'll hop into the shower, I guess."

Jim glanced at her bashfully. "I'll get your clothes from downstairs."

Oooh, Jim. Doing the lady's laundry for her so she has something decent to wear. He couldn't help but notice that they didn't meet each other's eye as they got up from the table.

Blair decided to be a sport and clear the dishes.

It wasn't until they left Cathy off at her hotel that Blair realized their seating arrangement was odd. Blair had ended up in the middle as the three of them sat in the truck. At least it was convenient, since no one had to move for Cathy to leave the vehicle. She turned and blew Jim a kiss. "Until we meet again." She smiled sweetly.

Jim chuckled with a blush and raised a hand. "Until then. Goodbye, Cathy."

"Thanks for the ride. Nice meeting you, Blair." She pushed the door closed and turned away.

Jim eased the truck away from the curb.

Blair moved over to the passenger side. "Okay, spill it. Who, what, when, where, how, why."

Jim's eyes were on the road. "Can't I even enjoy my morning without getting a demand for the play-by-play?"

"Give me the play-by-play now and I'll consider the favor returned." Blair pulled the note out of his pocket. "'Chief, I would appreciate it if you could get lost for the night. So, be a pal and find something fun to do. I owe you. Love, Jim.'" Blair slapped his hand against the paper. "'Love, Jim.' That's desperate, man. Plus, like it says, you owe me."

Jim sighed, eyes still on the road. "Years ago, when I was thinking about asking Carolyn to marry me, I wondered if I could handle the idea of only sleeping with one person for the rest of my life."

"That seems like a normal concern," Blair said with encouragement.

"Yeah, so... when I was a rookie and a bunch of us were sent to a seminar in Olympia, I met Cathy - she worked in administration at the Tacoma PD. We hit it off and...." Jim shrugged.

"Had a great time in the sack," Blair hurried him along. "Gotcha. Then?"

"Then I decided I could sleep with one woman the rest of my life, even though I enjoyed being with Cathy. That sealed it for me, and I knew I could make that commitment to Carolyn."

"Uh-huh."

"That's really it. Carolyn and I got married."

Blair sputtered, "And then divorced. You sort of left out last night."

Jim sighed again as he turned onto the boulevard that would take them to the PD. "I was at the hotel yesterday - interviewing a witness for the Robinson case - and I happened to run into Cathy. She's doing sales now for some marketing firm. Anyway, we recognized each other, she didn't have to fly back until this afternoon, so we had dinner...."

"Fly back where?"

"Salem. Oregon. She lives there now."

"Oh." Blair felt bad for Jim. "So, do you know when you're going to see her again?"

"She didn't mention when she'd be back out this way." Jim finally glanced at Blair. "It was just a roll in the hay." He smiled softly. "A nice roll in the hay. We both knew it wasn't going anywhere. You know?" Another glance.

"Bummer. You seemed to have good chemistry. And to remember each other after all these years...."

Jim shrugged.

"Did you at least get her phone number?"

Jim shook his head. "Nor she, mine."

Blair grinned knowingly. "You'll be sorry on lonely nights, my friend."

"No, I won't." Jim shifted in his seat and leaned over the steering wheel, as though to focus on his driving.

"If it was that good, both times..." Blair persisted.

Jim snorted and shook his head, his jaw clenching.

"What's that mean?"

"What?"

"That snort. What? It wasn't good?"

"It was. It just...," Jim tilted his head and the noise in his throat hinted at frustration.

"What?"

"You know," Jim said, shifting in his seat again. "It's... sleeping with somebody, it's exhausting."

Blair could only grin. "Well, yeah, especially if it's good."

"No, I mean -"

"What? What do you mean?" Blair was intrigued now.

"You know." Jim waved his hand in a hurry-up-and-figure-it-out motion.

"I'm having a brain fart moment."

Jim looked over at him. "Your whole existence is a brain fart - of cosmic proportions."

"Ha. Don't change the subject. What do you mean by it being exhausting sleeping with somebody?"

Jim ducked his head, eyes back on the road. "The senses. I have to be so careful."

Blair blinked. Jim hadn't instigated mention of his senses since... well, not in quite a long time.

His tone had indicated that Blair should know exactly what he was talking about.

Thankfully, Jim elaborated on his own, though his voice was low. "I have to... watch out. You know, make sure I'm not going to zone on the sensations. Try to be as normal as possible. It's not like I can just relax and enjoy it." His jaw firmed. "Even when it's good, it's not really worth it."

Blair was desperate to say something positive to that, and to not let Jim know how surprised he was - why was he so surprised? - and, most importantly, not act like Jim's reaction was strange or pitiful. The last thing on earth Blair wanted Jim to do was feel like a freak - especially when the moment was so delicate.

"Could have fooled me. You both seemed happy this morning."

"We were. The pressure was off." Jim rubbed at his forehead with a pair of fingers. "These damn senses bring performance anxiety to a whole new level."

Blair was grateful that they were turning into the garage of the PD.

Blair wiped his damp hands against his jeans - the air dryers were woefully inadequate - as he emerged from the men's room. It was late in the afternoon and he headed for the break room, where he'd left Jim and Simon a few moments before.

Now, he slowed his pace as he heard their voices from the open door.

"All I'm saying, Jim, is what are you going to do if Sandburg decides to go out and make a life for himself? Are you going to be able to handle it, if he leaves? I'm talking about your senses."

"My senses are doing fine."

"The little you use them."

Blair mentally filed that comment for later. Simon wasn't one who ever encouraged Jim to use his senses; yet, his tone had sounded like one of complaint.

"Look," Jim said with an edge of irritation, "if Blair up and leaves some day, I'll miss him, but I'd be happy for him, since I'd assume he'd be leaving to better himself. If he wants to stay with me, then I'm happy to have him around. But I'm not going to sit him down and talk about it when there's nothing to talk about. It's not like he's going to suddenly leave without warning."

"I know he wouldn't do that. But he's still pretty young and now he has his degree and some money to support him. Surely, he's not going to be happy the rest of his life just being your roommate."

Silence.

"And friend," Jim said firmly. "A very, very loyal friend."

"I know. I didn't mean otherwise. Maybe he's a little too loyal, if you catch my drift. We tried to give him a place here and he turned it down. In retrospect, I think it was the best possible choice. He was never cop material and I'm glad he didn't let his loyalty to you interfere with his judgment about what's best for him."

"What do you want me to do?" Jim said, his voice raised slightly.

Blair glanced around, but the only two people currently in the bullpen were involved in a deep conversation. He couldn't see anyone else in the halls.

It occurred to him that if Jim's senses were functioning at a more normal level - for a sentinel - Jim would realize Blair was just a few feet away from the break room. But apparently he didn't know.

Jim continued, "Sit him down and demand that he decide right here and now where I fit into his future?"

"I'm just saying it wouldn't hurt to get some idea of what his plans are. You're too valuable as a detective to lose, if the one person who understands your condition decides he - rightfully - wants a life of his own. It wouldn't hurt to have his knowledge passed on to someone else."

"Like who?"

"Whoever."

"Blair would never withhold knowledge from anyone who needs it."

Blair heard Simon's heavy sigh. "I'm sorry I brought it up. The last time we all stuck our heads in the sand about this sentinel thing, we got caught with our pants down. I'd like to be a little better prepared next time, that's all."

More subdued, Jim said, "It's not like I'm going to turn to dust if I have to work alone again."

"I know. But it's been bad enough the times when you and Blair were on the outs. I'd hate to think what it would be like if he was gone from the picture completely."

"Point taken," Jim said wearily, ending the conversation.

There was the sound of chairs scooting back.

Blair quickly swiveled on his foot and headed back to the men's room, so he could come out again and join Jim and Simon in the bullpen.

Spring had arrived.

Blair took a deep breath as the warm air filled his lungs.

Creek Canyon Park had a good helping of young children, adults, and pets on this Wednesday afternoon.

Blair watched as Jim stood by the drinking fountain in the distance, waiting for his informant, Kenneth. The informant tended to be skittish, so Blair had readily agreed to waiting behind.

Jim now sat back on the brick wall that surrounded the playground, his hands in the pockets of his brown jacket.

Simon's words had been playing in Blair's mind for the two hours since they had left the station. "Surely, he's not going to be happy the rest of his life just being your roommate."

Just Jim's roommate.

Blair tried, but he couldn't find anything "just" about that. Besides, Jim had rightly emphasized that they were friends, with no "best" or "close" needed to enhance the word.

Should he feel belittled for "just" being Jim's roommate? Should he be trying to do something more with his life? Was he wasting possible opportunity by not having some grand plan to invest the money that he had?

Blair heard a giggle and glanced to his right. Two small children, apparently brother and sister, stood together with "ick" expressions on their faces, hands to their mouths. Turning farther, Blair saw what they were looking at. Two young adults were wrapped in an embrace, kissing passionately, uncaring of who witnessed.

Blair smiled at their feeling of abandon this spring day and turned back to Jim.

Jim bent to the water fountain and pressed the pedal. His tongue lapped at the water a moment, then he grimaced and straightened. He had left his bottled water in the truck. Obviously, the city water left much to be desired. To a sentinel, the chemical taste was surely all the more strong.

As Blair continued to watch Jim's sour expression, a piercing sadness went through him. So many things that ordinary people took for granted, Jim had to suffer from because of his "gift".

Even sex.

There was no question in Blair's mind that the sex was good, when Jim allowed himself to have it. But this morning he had learned that it was "exhausting" for Jim to hold his senses in check, keep from zoning, keep from enjoying the sensations too much and scaring the crap out of his bedmate.

Why haven't I ever realized that before?

Jim obviously thought he had. Yet, like so many things in their years together, it was more convenient not to talk about it. Blair had always assumed the sex was extra special, and Jim was too private a man to want to answer any questions about it.

Jim straightened as a serious-looking, slender man approached. Kenneth.

Blair heard happy sighs behind him and turned. The young couple now had their arms around each other, smiling happily as they gazed into each other's eyes.

Blair felt a stab of envy. He was going to be thirty-one this year and he'd never experienced love like that. There had been Maya, but with a few years of hindsight he now realized what silly puppy love that had been.

He turned back to watch Jim and the informant. Has Jim ever felt love like that? He supposed, based upon various stories Jim had relayed to him through the years. But now he sounds like he doesn't want to even give himself any further chances. The hassle of his senses isn't worth it.

Blair released a heavy breath. What a pair we are.

He remembered reading a blurb once. Something about how many lonely people there are in the world - and if those people simply got together, they wouldn't be lonely any more.

Jim and I can be all each other ever needs.

He liked that thought. He liked the way it defied Simon's apparent suspicion that he was going to just up and leave Jim alone with his sentinel problem, in the quest to "find a life" for himself. Besides, he and Jim got along really well - better now than they ever had before. Their lives had meshed together in a nice way.

Why would he ever want to leave the only home he'd ever known?

Maybe there's something better out there for me and I'm not giving myself a chance to find it.

But how could one define "better"?

Whispers prompted him to turn back to the children. With soft giggles, they informed a woman, apparently their mother, and pointed at the young couple.
Blair watched as the lovers put their arms around each other and began moving toward the parking lot, oblivious to the reactions of the children.

"He didn't give me much," Jim said.

Blair turned to him. "Anything useful?"

"Maybe. He knows someone who knows someone who witnessed Rugart's murder."

They began walking side by side. "That's a little vague," Blair said.

"Yeah, these things rarely pan out."

As they moved toward the truck, Blair fantasized that they had their arms around each other. "What now?"

"He's going to see if he can get the person he knows to get the witness to meet with me. The witness has done time, so he's not too keen on talking to cops. I said to tell him I'd make it worth his trouble."

"So now we wait."

"Right."

They were at the pickup. As Blair opened the passenger door, he imagined Jim's hand grabbing a feel here or there, squeezing his shoulder, maybe taking his chin and turning his head for a quick kiss.

Jim put the truck in gear and eased it out of the lot.

Blair sat silently, unable to push away the loneliness that took hold.

It had been a long day. Blair put the rice from his Japanese dish into a skillet, intending to reheat it while adding fresh vegetables.

Jim was working on his own skillet dish, assisted by a box of Hamburger Helper.

More often than not they ate separate meals. It now occurred to Blair how easily they moved around each other - cooking together, eventually eating together, while their food remained apart.

Actually, that wasn't true either. Over the years, there had gotten to be some automatic offering and stealing from each other's plates. Neither even commented on it any more.

Blair added peppers to his dish.

We may as well be married.

Jim stirred the macaroni and sauce, then placed a lid over the skillet. He sniffed at Blair's creation. "That some kind of Chinese concoction?"

"Japanese."

"Oh."

"You can have some." The words weren't necessary. Jim would take what he wanted from Blair's skillet when he spooned his finished Hamburger Helper onto the plate.

Blair sprinkled sauce onto the mixture and watched his food sizzle.

"Chief?"

Blair looked up.

"You seem far away. You okay?"

Blair nodded quickly. "Uh-hm." He stirred his food. Not far away, Jim. Right here. Always right here. He knew he needed to give some sort of explanation for his lack of chatter, but couldn't think of anything.

Jim lifted the lid and stirred his food. After replacing the lid, he draped his arm across Blair's shoulders.

Blair wanted to turn and burrow into Jim and just... breathe.

Instead, he applied a dash of spice to his meal, wondering how long the arm would stay.

"This case is really frustrating, huh?"

Case? Jim was making small talk, trying to start a conversation.

"I'm sure something will break eventually." Blair stirred his food.

The arm left his shoulders. It was replaced with a hand in the middle of his back, between his shoulder blades. "What's eating you?" Jim asked.

"Nothing." Blair made a point of looking up and meeting Jim's eye. "I'm just in a quiet mood. Sorry." The words came out whinier than he'd intended.

"Like that's normal?" Jim countered, though his tone was light. He removed his hand and used it to pick up a spoon. He lifted the lid with his other hand, scooped up a helping of noodles, blew on them a few times. He inserted the spoon into his mouth, and then reached to turn the burner off.

Blair turned his burner off and grabbed two plates from the cupboard. He dished out a small serving on the first one and handed it to Jim, who added a helping of his own food and took the plate to the table.

Blair joined him a moment later, having decided to have a little of the Hamburger Helper for himself, because he did have a weakness for the spices.

He made a point of asking questions about the case - mainly about Simon's input - so Jim wouldn't think there was something "wrong" with him.

It was hard to talk about Simon, though, without being aware that he was really pissed at him. If Simon had never made that comment about him being just Jim's roommate, he wouldn't be having all these crazy thoughts.

Helped along by the couple in the park.

And by Jim's confession this morning about sex being too much effort, because of his senses.

Maybe he was focusing on all these thoughts because he was avoiding examining why he'd been so dense about how Jim's senses affected him sexually.

"You keep this up," Jim said, "I'm going to start thinking it's something I've done."

That was dirty pool. Blair wiped his mouth. "I overheard you and Simon talking in the break room today."

Jim's expression went blank as his spoon stilled in mid-air. Then his brow furrowed as he inserted it into his mouth, chewed slowly, and then swallowed. "What did we say that was so upsetting? He was just concerned about what it would mean if you leave some day." Jim's expression still appeared contemplative, as though he was trying to remember if he'd said anything offensive.

"For starters, I'm not going to up and take off on you."

"I know that."

"Simon should too."

Jim brushed his napkin across his lips and laid it on the table. "He's just trying to think ahead, Chief. Like he said, we all got caught with our pants down when the story broke. We should have been better prepared. I can't fault him for not wanting to go through something like that again." He sipped his water.

"It's not even that," Blair said, wondering if he should have, indeed, let the subject go at that.

"Then what?"

Blair realized his foot was vibrating nervously against the floor. "He made some comment about me getting tired of being 'just' your roommate. Like I'm a second class citizen or something."

Jim made a face and sat back. "He didn't mean it like that. He meant that you've got a high level degree, a little money... it would make sense for you to go out and do something with it."

"Instead of being 'just' your roommate?" Blair heard the edge in his voice and had to admit he was angrier than he'd realized.

"He didn't mean it as a strike against our friendship, Chief."

"It sure sounded like he did."

With disapproval, Jim said, "You've been stewing about this all afternoon?"

Blair deflated and looked down at his plate. "Maybe. It just got me to thinking."

"Uh-huh...?"

"I'm not leaving." And I think we should get married and stuff.

"Nobody's asking you to. If you heard our whole conversation, you know I'd be perfectly happy to have you keep staying right here... as 'just' my roommate or whatever title you want to call it."

Can we be each other's husband and wife?

"Besides," Jim said with a grin, "if you're just my roommate, I guess that makes me 'just' your roommate, too."

Blair couldn't help it. He grinned back.

"So, now we're both equally demeaned." Jim belched and stood, then took his plate over to the sink.

"Yeah, I see your point," Blair said, feeling much better.

He realized how foolish all his fantasies today had been. He and Jim were a-okay and there was no reason to mess with that.

Jim came off the elevator to the underground parking lot. He took his keys out as he approached the pickup.

He trotted out of the lane as a car approached. He turned when it slowed near him.

It was Simon, rolling down his window. "Hey, Jim."

Jim came over to him.

"Hey, just wanted you to know that I'm sorry if I came on a little strong the other day. I know better than to get between you and Sandburg."

Jim shrugged. "You were just trying to cover all the logical bases, considering Blair's degree." He smiled. "But Blair and I talked about it, anyway, and there's nothing to worry about. He's staying." He couldn't help but note the relief that came from saying that. Perhaps, in the back of his mind, the possibility of Blair leaving had been a concern.

"Glad to hear it," Simon said, though he didn't seem particularly convinced. He made a little coughing noise, his hand to his mouth, then said, "Goodnight, Jim."

Jim waved and turned back to the truck.

"Blair?" a hesitant voice asked.

From where he stood at the third floor copy machine - because the one in Major Crimes didn't work - Blair turned and came face-to-face with a tall, middle-aged, dark-haired woman, dressed in a skirt and blazer. He tried to place the name. "Uh, you're... Pamela Harrison, in Personnel?"

"Very good," she said with a smile. "I've been here two months and I still feel new."

"Yeah, it takes a while. What can I do for you?"

Her voice lowered conspiratorially. "I have a personal favor to ask. I hope you don't mind."

Blair nodded encouragement, wondering if she was going to ask him out.

"You're Jim Ellison's roommate, right?"

"Uh-huh."

"Well," she blushed, "I thought I'd ask you first before I make a fool out of myself. You can just answer yes or no. Is he seeing anybody?"

"Uh... no." You're wearing too much perfume.

"Oh, good." She smiled. "So, there's no reason why I shouldn't ask him for a date?"

"Uh, no, not at all." Blair felt himself blush. But he won't want to sleep with you. And if he does, it'll be just once and then he'll remember how much effort it takes. His cock requires special handling and sorry, honey, but you aren't that special.

She squeezed his shoulder. "Thank you. You've made my day." She turned on her heel, her face lit up.

Blair went back to his copying. He should have lied. But how could he and not have it discovered sooner or later?

Besides, why would he?

To spare her disappointment.

But it wasn't his place to get involved with Jim and his dates.

He braced against the copier with both hands as his mind spun with images of Pamela and Jim.

I don't want him to see her.

Just a date wouldn't be so bad.

I don't want his cock between her legs. Sex shouldn't be such a chore for him.

He lifted the lid and stood staring at his original. Jim deserves... love. And pleasure. He deserves everything his senses can give him. He doesn't deserve her - somebody who can never understand.

He deserves me.

Blair held his breath, listening for anyone around him, in case they could somehow pick up on his thoughts.

He grabbed his original from the glass. He deserves me.

He does.

Me.

He grabbed his twenty copies in his other hand and stood there, breathing harshly. I want him to want me.

I. Want. Him.

I want Jim.

He turned his head sharply toward the hall where Personnel was. He's mine.

His cell phone rang.

Blair spent a moment figuring out which pocket he'd placed it in. He pushed a button. "Blair Sandburg speaking."

"Where the hell are you?"

"On the fucking third floor, using the only fucking copy machine in the fucking building that actually fucking works."

Jim paused, as though puzzled by the profanity. "The meeting's about to start."

"I know. I've got the copies. I'm on my way up now."

"Hurry up."

"Yeahyeahyeah." Blair flipped the phone closed as he headed for the elevator. Fuck you, too. Nothing like being a grump-ass over a few lousy copies for an informal meeting.

Like I'm his fucking errand boy.

As Blair rode the elevator, his anger deflated. I want to be your husband and your wife, not your errand boy. I want to be your mate, the one you make love to and the one you let make love to you. (Not that I'd have any idea what the fuck I was doing.)

Blair leaned his hand against the elevator and bowed his head. What am I going to do?

He knew one thing he could do. He could be helpful.

Later that afternoon, he waited until he and Jim were seated at Jim's desk, going over the files they'd pulled for their murder case. There was enough chatter in the room to insure that no one was paying attention to them.

Blair nudged Jim. "Hey. You know Pamela Harrison?"

"That the new lady down in Personnel?"

"Yeah. I'm just warning you, buddy: She's going to try to ask you out."

Jim blinked in surprise. "She is?" He sounded... pleased.

Dammit. "Yeah, she was asking me about you. But I thought I should warn you so you aren't caught off guard. I mean, assuming what you said after Cathy is true." Please let it be true. "You know, about how much... effort it is."

Blair realized he was going against the male code. A man always helped his buddy get laid. Blair was trying to help his buddy not get laid.

Jim looked blank for a moment. Then he just looked tired. "Thanks for the warning."

Blair couldn't tell if he was sincere.

Blair couldn't help it. Two days later he had to ask as they were leaving the PD for the day. He tried to sound casual. "Did Pamela Harrison ever ask you out?"

Jim shrugged. "It didn't get that far. You know," he seemed sheepish, "I tried to discourage her. I think I hurt her feelings."

Because I gave her hope. Blair crossed his arms. "Better to hurt her feelings now, rather than later."

Jim looked over at him. "That's a little cold, coming from you."

Shit. It was cold.

"Sandburg."

Blair looked up from his laptop to find Rick gazing at him with concern.

"What's with you lately? You seem distracted as hell."

"Just focusing." Blair forced a smile. "You know how it is when you get really into a subject."

"Yeah, and I know how you are and this ain't it."

"Isn't," Blair corrected with a smile.

Rick cuffed his head. "Smart ass."

Later that night, Blair lay with his fingers laced behind his head.

He needed to do something. Everyone was noticing.

But do what?

If he could just purge his thoughts about Jim from his mind....

Wasn't going to happen. That much was certain.

He was headed on a collision course. With Jim.

Better to have some control over the collision than have it happen when it's least expected.

That sounded so rational. But what could he do? Jim, man, I really love you and everything and, you know, since you aren't interested in dating any more, and I feel insanely jealous of the idea of anyone else wanting you... well, you know, maybe we just ought to....

Ought to what?

Blair released a breath. I don't want to give you the idea that I know what I'm doing or anything like that. But do you think maybe we could kind of, sort of make each other feel good? You know, just every once in a while when the urge comes along? We won't even have to sleep together the rest of the time.

He grimaced. Why would he not want them to sleep together just because they weren't having sex? Or how about afterwards? Would they each go back to their respective rooms?

He imagined Jim lying sated against him. Jim's muscles would be relaxed, his breathing even, a little smile on his face. His limp, damp cock would be against Blair's thigh.

He would stroke Jim's hair as he fell asleep. Jim wouldn't have to worry about Blair finding out anything about his senses. He wouldn't have to hold anything back.

Ah, maybe he had been approaching this wrong.

Jim, man, you know I know about your senses. You don't have to hide anything from me. So, when you get kind of horny, it's okay to summon me to your room. I'll take care of it. Your cock has special needs and I'll give it the treatment it deserves. Of course, I'll need a few practice sessions first to figure out what the hell I'm doing.

Jim would love that. Blair practicing with his cock to figure out what it liked. As if Jim wasn't already sensitive as hell about how different his senses made him feel.

But Jim, those differences can be a wonderful thing. Your cock can feel things that ordinary folks like me can only dream about. I won't be jealous of it. I'll love what I can do for it. You know I'm the only one who can give you that.

Let yourself have that, Jim.

Blair sighed. This was impossible.

And, God, what if Jim reacted badly? What if it ruined their friendship forever?

He firmed his jaw. He refused to believe that. He and Jim had come through too many difficult times to be unable to weather something like this. No matter how badly Jim might react in the moment, they would get through it.

The problem wasn't how Jim would react. It was getting contrary, pragmatic Jim to allow himself something wonderful. It was getting him to say "yes".

The phone rang. Jim stirred the homemade soup once more, and then reached beside the stove for the cordless. "Ellison."

"Jim, what the hell is wrong with Sandburg?"

Huh? "I don't know. Why don't you ask him?"

"I'm asking you. He left here with files on my desk and put half the Gunderson files in with the file on Rex Holbart. We can't have that kind of sloppiness. It was sheer luck that I discovered it. Do I need to go through every file here and make sure it's in order?"

"No, sir. You probably ought to talk to him about it."

Simon drew a breath that signaled an explosion was coming. "You talk to him about it! A few years back when you begged me to let Sandburg on as an observer, you made it clear that you would be a hundred percent responsible for him. I don't see that that's changed, even though his 'observing' has become permanent. So, you set him straight on what quality of work is expected of him while he's hanging around, or I'll see that his butt is permanently removed. Got it?"

"Got it, sir."

"Have a nice evening," Simon returned sourly.

Jim clicked the phone off. Shit. What burr had worked up Simon's ass lately?

For that matter, what had worked up Blair's? There was no question that Blair had been distracted lately. Surely, it couldn't all be because of that conversation he'd overheard.

Hell, he just plain hated being in the middle of conflict between Simon and Blair. Why couldn't they tolerate each other instead of pretending to be so intolerant?

Granted, it probably wasn't all pretense.

And for Simon to bring up the fact that he was still Blair's keeper, as though Blair wasn't responsible for own actions.... that seemed like dirty pool. Though he supposed Simon's logic was correct - there wasn't anything that had happened these past five years to change the fact that Blair was his responsibility.

Maybe that really wasn't a bad thing. In an odd way, it allowed him to feel in control of Blair.

But... What's with the files, Chief? It's not like you to get sloppy.

Jim stirred the soup again. You deserved Simon's wrath, not me. In fact, if he held on to that annoyance, it might allow him to ream Blair a new one; he had it coming.

He felt relief when he heard the elevator down the hall. He placed a lid over the soup, since it needed to simmer another fifteen minutes.

The door opened a moment later. Blair dropped his backpack to the floor and wrestled out of his jacket. "Hey."

"Hey," Jim returned. He was thrown now; Blair seemed perkier than he had been lately.

"Smells good." Blair approached the stove. "Vegetable beef?"

"Uh-huh. It still has to simmer a while."

"Great." Blair moved to the refrigerator and grabbed a beer.

Jim took it out of his hand. "Don't get comfortable. We need to talk."

Blair looked up at him in confusion. "About what?"

"I just got my ass chewed by Simon because you fucked up the files you left on his desk."

"Fucked up? How were they fucked up?"

"Some of the papers from one file were in somebody else's file."

Blair lowered his eyes. "Oh."

"Yeah. Oh. We can't have that, Chief. The information that was misfiled could have been lost forever if Simon hadn't happened to notice it. It's hard enough catching criminals without losing information that we've already compiled."

Blair looked contrite. "It won't happen again. I'll talk to Simon tomorrow."

"He doesn't want to hear from you about it. Since you're not officially with the PD, he still considers you to be my responsibility. He was happy to chew my ass in your place."

Blair ducked his head but kept eye contact. "Sorry. I'm really sorry, Jim. I'll be more careful, I promise."

Jim leaned back against the counter. "I don't need your promise. I need you tell me what's been eating you lately. You haven't been yourself. It can't all be because of you overhearing Simon and me talking last week."

Blair took a few slow steps away from the counter, turning his back. "No, it's not really that," he said in a low voice.

"I'm listening," Jim said with impatience.

He heard Blair swallow, then sigh heavily. "I hadn't yet figured out how to have this conversation."

Oh, no. Jim's stomach tightened. Blair had decided to leave.

No, that couldn't be right. Blair had specifically told him that he wasn't going anywhere.

Was he sick? Something incurable? That would certainly explain his distraction. Oh, God.

With his head bowed, Blair rubbed his hands all about his face. "I guess I can't put this off any longer."

Jim moved closer. "What is it, buddy?"

Blair took a step nearer to the door, then suddenly turned around.

Jim picked up the sound of his rapidly beating heart.

Blair's chest heaved. "Jim, man, I need to test something."

Test?

"I need to try something. Please don't hate me if you don't like it. But it shouldn't hurt; at least, not physically, though it might upset you. But I have to try this."

"What?"

"Jim, man, just... close your eyes. Please."

Jim closed his eyes.

Nothing happened. He felt like a fool.

"Keep your eyes closed," Blair said softly, despite his thundering heart.

Jim felt a sweaty hand behind his neck, beckoning him to lower his head.

He did. He sensed effort on Blair's part, then the air around his face was permeated with Blair's scent.

The hand on his neck tightened. Blair's other hand locked onto his arm.

Plush, dry flesh touched his lips. Pressed....

Yes.

His flesh began to melt... his body started to float...

Time to pull back, not let his senses indulge....

But this was Blair.

He pushed Blair back against the door, not allowing their mouths to separate. He pressed, grabbing a fistful of Blair's hair, careful not to yank.

Blair.

Blair!

Why wasn't Blair stopping this?

Because he was the one who had started it.

Jim wrenched himself away, aware of his own thundering heart, the throb in his groin.

He stood hunched over, his back to Blair, trying to catch his breath.

Behind him, Blair's breath was also heaving. Then, shakily, Blair said, "At least it wasn't awful."

At least?

"I had to try that, Jim. I had to."

And...?

Silence.

Jim knew he needed to say something. There was too much vulnerability in Blair's voice. It was easy to focus on Blair, since it meant he could shy away from his own thoughts and feelings. "How long?" It came out more harshly than he'd intended.

"Not -" Blair paused, his voice unsteady. "I've loved you like crazy for a long time, Jim. It's a love with all kind of headings. Soulmate, friend, brother. Just for starters." Deep breath. "But it's just been recently that... that this seemed to make some kind of weird sense. I-I had to try. To see if there was any possibility."

And?

Blair's voice was trembling now. "There - there seems to be a possibility."

He didn't like the way Blair was explaining this. "You want to be fuck buddies?" He'd definitely intended that to be harsh.

"I-I want to... to be able to give you everything in my power that is good and beautiful and makes you feel wonderful and happy to be alive. I want to be able to love you without holding back, without you feeling you have to hold anything back."

Jim felt his shoulders slump. Chief. He realized he was rubbing his hand over his face.

"Jim, it's not like - like I know anything about this. I'm flying blind here. I just know that I've never felt anywhere - anywhere - near the love I feel for you, for anybody else. And if you feel even a little bit similar," Blair's voice lost its confidence, "and considering you've given up on trying to see anybody else... it just seems...."

Jim waited for the rest.

Instead, Blair said, "Please turn around."

Jim obeyed and found himself looking into a face full of vulnerability, worry, and hope.

Blair thought the world of him. He'd always known that...had sometimes brutally used those feelings against Blair. Sometimes, when he stopped and thought about it, he'd find himself amazed all over again and wonder Why? Why me? Sure, at first, it all centered on the fact he had genes that made him something that Blair blindly admired. But it had stopped being all about the sentinel stuff fairly quickly.

In bad moments, it was all Jim could do to not tell him what a fool he was to worship him so unconditionally.

He should be considering telling Blair that now. But he instead found himself latching onto what Blair had said: It seemed to make a weird kind of sense.

He reached up and took a few strands of Blair's hair in his fingers, brushing his cheek with a thumb in passing.

He wanted to be tender, to be allowed to do this. To allow his feelings this kind of expression.

It had been good, hadn't it? Perhaps memory had already acquired a rose-colored veil.

Jim brushed his thumb along Blair's open mouth.

He bent his head, closed his eyes.

The sinking feeling was there all over again, threatening to turn him into mush. Except at his center. He was very hard there.

He pressed Blair back against the door. He could take Blair right here. Yank down his pants, bend him over, and join without lubricant. It would hurt and Blair would cry out, but he'd let Jim do that.

Jim could do anything he wanted and his senses could experience all of it.

Dear God.

He wrenched himself away, enforcing their separation by shoving Blair more firmly against the door. He turned his back once again.

"Not like this," he heard himself mutter gruffly. What had he been thinking? Hurting Blair... just because he could?

His cock was almost over the edge. He was tempted to stroke it to completion.

Instead, he moved to the counter and placed his hands on the edge. He inhaled, letting the aroma of the simmering soup fill his sinuses.

He had to stop running away every time things got intense. But Blair was tempting, so unconditionally offering.

Jim clenched his fist. This is a fantasy. It can never be like he wants.

Like... I could want.

I want.

How could he deny that when it was so easy to kiss Blair?

It's just hormones, out of control. I get too little, too far apart. It's always so difficult.

A wave of self-pity descended upon him. I can't have what most men take for granted.

But Blair could fix that, could make it so his senses allowed him to have more than other men could even imagine.

With Blair, he could be who he was.

"Jim?"

Jim froze.

Blair came up behind him and tentatively said, "I know I've... created a mess. I'm not sorry. It could be good between us, enhance what we already have." He drew a deep breath. "I know you well enough to understand that you need some privacy right now. To... sort this through however you need to sort it through."

Blair waited but Jim didn't know what to say.

"The last thing in the world I want is to force something on you that you aren't sure you want. Or to have your senses react to me because I'm 'safe', so to speak." Swallow. "I want this so much. But I don't want it unless it comes from your heart, first and foremost."

Silence.

"There's a party being thrown by the Anthropology Department that Rick invited me to. I wasn't interested in going, but I'll go ahead and pretend to have a good time while I'm thinking about how good it was when we kissed. I promise I won't come home before midnight. I hope...," Blair trailed off. Then his tone was vulnerable again. "If you decide you can't do this, I'll be really disappointed. But we'll work it out, Jim. I don't want this to be between us. And if it takes you a long time to figure out what you want, I'll try to be patient."

Enough already. Jim reached back, felt Blair's arm and followed it up to his shoulder. He squeezed, trying to show that he realized how much effort - how much courage - this had taken.

Blair took his hand and laced their fingers together. "I love you so much, Jim." He squeezed.

Jim squeezed back, hoping Blair understood that he had no words to offer right now.

Blair separated their hands. Then he threw his arm around Jim and hugged him, pressing his head against Jim's back.

Dear God. Blair was so full of love.

Could he ever be like that for somebody? For Blair? Give everything he was?

"See ya."

The warmth was gone. Noises of Blair putting his jacket back on, gathering his backpack.

Then Jim was alone.

He had a bowl of soup without tasting it. Then he received a call from Stephen.

After an hour of sibling bullshit, he hung up and convinced himself that the situation with Blair was something he could pretend had never happened - that Blair would want that, too - and he didn't need to think about it.

That fantasy diminished in the quiet of the night, as Jim lay in bed. The sequence of the evening's events - the things that had been said - took refuge in his mind and refused to leave.

He and Blair.

They wouldn't even have to change the greeting on the answering machine. "This is Jim and Blair. Please leave a message and we'll get back to you."

They wouldn't have to change anything at all. Only in the privacy of their home would anything be different.

Jim reached into his underwear and took out his cock.

He squeezed it soothingly, sorry that it had been so tormented earlier tonight. With his other hand, he squeezed his balls.

Usually, it didn't go much farther than this. The sensations would threaten to get too intense and he was afraid of what would happen. So, he'd distract himself while stroking, trying to have an orgasm while not letting it get overly mind-blowing. It was self-abuse in every sense of the word.

But if he and Blair....

He tried to relax and let his senses dial up in the way that was natural for him.

The "natural" way that made him a freak.

Shit.

He couldn't do this. He took his hand away.

He remembered Cathy's mouth. How good it had felt when she sucked him. He'd let it continue for no more than a minute, struggling to keep the sensations in check. Then he'd flipped her onto her back, hoping she felt complimented that he couldn't wait any longer. Funny, but with intercourse he felt he could control his cock better. The tempo of the thrusts, how deeply he drove into her (or how shallow). As long as he pleased her with fingers and tongue, he figured she would be content and not worry about what she was or wasn't doing for him. After all, what he experienced had very little to do with her in the first place.

But with Blair....

He closed his eyes and gulped.

The seed had been planted. Could it even be uprooted now?

Did he want to uproot it?

No, he almost choked out loud.

He wanted to believe... that his cock could have everything that it craved. That he could love and be loved, as was his right as a man.

The idea had already reached the point where it would be cruel if he couldn't have what Blair had suggested.

Had offered.

He had to follow through, even if disaster lurked at the end. Once a baby dropped into position in the birth canal, you couldn't stop it from entering the world.

The idea of him and Blair... the contractions had already begun.

He could fuck Blair. Put his cock into his mouth.

He wondered what those things would be like. Blair had already confessed his lack of experience. Jim had ass-fucked once, when he was nineteen and determined to try everything he'd read about. In retrospect, he didn't think he'd actually gone through with it to completion. His big cock had hurt her. She had even been experienced - or so she said.

His hand moved inside his underwear. It went past his cock, over his balls, his index finger running between his asscheeks until it found his anus. He pressed.

Damn, that was tight. Impossibly tight. If his own finger didn't even begin to fit, then how could Blair ever get his cock in there?

How could he ever get his in Blair's?

What if he slobbered all over Blair's asshole with saliva first? He remembered how Blair's smells had invaded his nostrils tonight. If he buried his face between his asscheeks and tongued his tight hole....

His other hand reached to soothe his hardening cock.

Yes, he'd love doing that. Eating Blair's ass. Getting him all ready to take his big, eager dick. Blair would cry out - not in pain, but because he'd love the sensations that Jim would send shooting up his ass. First with his tongue, and then with his fulfilling cock.

And what about Blair's cock? Jim would take it far enough in his mouth so that his face would be pressed against Blair's pubic hairs. What a sensorial rush that would be.

He'd happily zone on smelling Blair's crotch, his greedy mouth sucking Blair to completion.

Godammit.

He had already made up his mind, hadn't he?

He rifled through what had been said tonight, trying to find a chink, the proof that it wouldn't work.

He paused when he remembered Blair's words. "I don't want this from you unless it's from your heart."

Well, shit, he hadn't had Blair living under his roof all these years, welcomed his company into danger, brought him back from the dead... because of his cock.

So, it had to be for reasons of his heart. Not that he could separate the two right now.

Noises sounded at the door.

Jim froze. Blair was home.

He heard the door open and glanced at the clock. A quarter to twelve. Blair hadn't quite managed to stay away "at least until midnight".

He was amazed all over again that Blair wanted to be around him so much. To be... in him. Be fucked by him.

Not that they'd agreed they would be mutual about it. But how else could it be? He couldn't see one of them always topping and the other always bottoming.

Well, maybe he could. He just wasn't sure who would have which role.

He was definitely interested in fucking Blair.

The keys had been placed in the basket, the backpack dropped, the jacket hung up. Blair was going straight to his room.

He's gotten plenty to eat and drink at the party. Maybe pissed before coming home.

No. Blair was headed to the bathroom now. The door closed softly.

Was Blair wondering what Jim was thinking?

He had to be.

Surely, he didn't think Jim had just fallen asleep after what had happened tonight.

Or did he hope that Jim had?

Jim turned and snuggled beneath the covers. He closed his eyes.

What were he and Blair going to say to each other in the morning?

He would want to act like everything was normal, would want Blair to make all the moves.

That wasn't fair. Blair had already made all the moves. The ball was in Jim's court.

The bathroom door opened. Jim listened as Blair made his way to his room and got beneath the covers.

For many minutes, he listened for the noise of the relaxed breathing of sleep, knowing he wasn't going to hear it.

Blair wouldn't be able to fall asleep any more easily than Jim had. If anything, he had more on his mind, for he had no idea what Jim might be thinking.

How much easier this would be if Blair came up to his room, right now. "So, Jim, have you decided anything yet?" he could ask. Then Jim could answer. React instead of initiate.

No, that wasn't fair at all.

The longer he waited, the more strained this silence would become. It would be even more awkward when there was an attempt at small talk in the morning.

Blair had been so brave earlier this evening... revealing so much of himself when he hadn't been ready, hadn't yet formed the right words.

He did fine. He had, in fact, ended up saying all the right things - the things that gave Jim permission to say "yes".

Jim sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He grabbed his robe, aware of the cloak of security it provided.

For me or for Blair?

As he moved quietly down the stairs, he wondered if he would look back years later and remember this moment.

He could stop this. As long as he didn't enter Blair's room, nothing had to happen.

He marched determinedly toward the French doors, one of which was ajar, as Blair usually liked privacy but not the implication that he was locking the world out - or locking himself in.

Jim drew a breath and was glad the door didn't squeak when he opened it wider. "Blair?" He was aware of his own pounding heart.

The covers rustled as Blair pushed himself up. "Yeah?" He sounded wide-awake. And... hopeful?

Jim moved toward the bed. "I've been thinking."

Blair's eyes sought his in the darkness. "Yeah?"

Jim sat on the edge, his back to Blair, seeking security in their nearness. "I don't know what the next step is supposed to be."

A pause. Then, "You're here. That seems like a pretty solid step to me."

Jim hoped it was.

"Come 'ere." Blair's hands were on his shoulders, beckoning him down.

Jim obeyed them, shifting to lie in the space Blair provided. Blair wasn't done moving him until Jim's head rested on his furred chest, facing Blair's feet.

Yes, this was what he had wanted: for Blair to make it easy.

He let himself experience the sensations... the smell of Blair beneath his nose, the feel of the hands petting through his hair (such a tender gesture), the relief in the sound of Blair's breathing, the mold of the covers at they lay over Blair's lower body.

Jim relaxed.

"Thank you." Blair kissed the top of his head. "Thank you for not making me wait for your answer."

"It's always been heartfelt with me, buddy. Even when I've been mad at you."

"I know. I just wanted to make sure you knew. The sentinel stuff... it can be so wonderful, but I also think it can create urges that are, you know, strictly physical. Earlier... I don't think your reaction was because you'd been wanting me, too."

He definitely hadn't. "It felt good."

"Yeah, it did, didn't it?" Blair's smile was so clear in his voice.

Jim kissed the skin beneath his lips, marveling at the taste and texture on his tongue.

"This will be like a whole new world for you, won't it? If you let your senses free?"

"Y-Yes," he replied with a stutter.

Blair's hands pressed his head closer. "You don't have to be afraid with me, you know? You don't have to hold back. That's the last thing I want." His voice lowered to a delicate whisper. "Nothing can go wrong with your senses while I'm here. What you feel can only be right."

Speaking of which....

Jim shifted, rising up. He pushed Blair's hair away from his face, then clasped his cheek. He lowered his head.

The contact of lips on lips was as lush as he remembered. It felt as though he could melt right into Blair.

The expected reaction was there, too. He took Blair's hand, not wanting him to feel he needed to be hesitant, and placed it over his groin.

No, that wasn't right.

He placed it on the elastic of his waistband, then realized this was already too complicated.

He reluctantly broke contact with Blair's mouth and stood. He dropped the robe from his shoulders and pushed his underwear down.

As he reveled in the freedom of his erection, he watched Blair push his sweats down his legs, revealing his own bobbing hard-on.

Blair's arms reached for him as he returned to bed.

Jim pressed his lips against Blair's once again. He was aware of his skin responding to Blair's hands rubbing all along his back, squeezing his butt, hugging around his waist.

God.

They pulled apart to draw a breath.

Blair murmured, "This is the most special thing in the world to me, having you in my arms."

Jim couldn't fathom that, but those arms felt so good that he didn't dare question it.

He relaxed against Blair, aware of his erection easing.

"I'm having a dilemma." Blair's breath blew against his face. "Maybe you can help me solve it."

He wanted to solve anything that troubled Blair. "What's that?"

"Part of me wants to lie here, just like this, and enjoy being together. Save everything else for later. And another part of me is thinking that we're both here, hot and horny for each other, so we may as well indulge until we blow the roof off the building and can't take anymore."

Jim could understand that. Was it just this evening that he'd said "not like this" to halt what was going on between them?

He was on top of Blair now, his elbows taking his weight. "Why don't we lie here, just like this, and if something happens we don't try to stop it?'

He didn't wait for agreement. He lowered his head, thinking he could kiss Blair all night long and it would be enough.

Yet, even as his lips and mouth vibrated with the contact between them, he reveled in Blair's hands continuing to rub, pet, and squeeze - all over.

Damn, it was too much.

He pushed Blair toward the wall, then broke their kiss. He rolled onto his back in the space provided, then pulled Blair down so that his head landed on his chest.

He put his arms around Blair, more comfortable in the roll of giving. "Let's just stay like this," he whispered.

Blair seemed to agree. But a moment later he asked, "All the touching... did it bother you?"

"Not in a sentinel way," Jim replied without thinking.

"In what way then?"

"I'm just not used to...," Jim abruptly trailed off. His throat was closing. He pressed Blair's head closer, hoping he wouldn't have to say any more.

Blair was silent as he seemed to consider his next question.

"I love you, Chief."

Jim's arm was squeezed. "I love you too. I want to be able to give all the love I have for you, to you." His voice lowered. "If you'll let me."

"I'll let you." Jim knew it wouldn't be that simple. "It just might take me a little while - "

Blair's hand rested against his head. "It's okay," he whispered. "You had this sprung on you all of a sudden. I'm just glad beyond words that the things I said led to us being together right now."

Jim closed his eyes. "So am I. So am I." He ran Blair's words through his mind and realized there was something amusing in them. "You're 'beyond words'? That's a new one."

Blair hugged him. "I guess it is."