© December 2001 by Charlotte Frost
Noting the Friday afternoon crowd hadn’t left any booths close enough to Todd Hunter, Blair slid into a stool at the bar, right across from where Hunter’s booth was. Hunter was sitting with another man whom Blair didn’t recognize. Jim was outside, waiting for the FBI team to arrive, which was going to arrest Hunter. Since Jim had had dealings with Hunter in the distant past, there was no question that Blair was the one who had to go into the bar to keep an eye on the man, in case he tried to leave before the FBI arrived.
Blair grabbed a basket of peanuts from the end of the bar and ordered a beer in a tired voice. His hair was in a sloppy ponytail, and he tried to look like a man who had had a rough week, decreasing any suspicion that he might be a cop. In the meantime, he kept casting a glance at the booth across from him, and was close enough to hear Hunter’s conversation. At first, it was obscure “shop talk”, the shop being a welding outfit that was a cover for drug trafficking. Then, abruptly, the conversation turned personal.
“That bitch is going to put out tonight,” Hunter snarled. “No more excuses. I haven’t had any all week, and I’m sick of her bullshit about headaches and tiredness.”
His companion seemed faintly amused. “So much for having a steady companion to warm your bed, huh? If the broads don’t put out, what’s the point of having them sleeping with you regularly?”
Hunter snorted. “That’s the truth. This bitch’s mouth is better than her cunt. She sucks just like a baby on a bottle. Just takes a couple of minutes, and it’s so perfect that I fall right to sleep afterwards.”
Blair suddenly felt like he was an adolescent again, and he was surrounded by peers who were incredibly ignorant about sex. That’s not even a real blow job, you dumb fuck. The cock end is only part of the equation. It’s child’s play. To get a real blow job you need your lover’s fingers up your ass, rotating around and stroking your prostate. Once you’ve had that, you’ll never be satisfied with an old-fashioned blow job ever again.
Blair grimaced and took a large swallow of cold beer. Oh, man, why did I have to start thinking about that? He resisted the urge to squeeze his thighs together and soothe his fledgling erection. Man, two days and it’s like I’ve been on a desert island. It was the first time since he and Jim had started sleeping together that they’d gone two nights without sex. This Hunter case had come up abruptly. Thankfully, the late nights had paid off and, with the FBI stepping in, it might end smoothly and peacefully in just a few minutes.
Jim probably never gets a hard-on at an inopportune moment, Blair thought enviously. He can just dial down.
Hunter’s companion was saying, “I like it snug. I could do it up the back end a hundred percent of the time, but it’s hard to find women who will let you.”
Just then, the waitress appeared and brought them their food. Though it was harder to hear around her curvy body, Blair caught the friend saying, “Hey, honey, I bet you’d take it up the back end, huh?”
“Only if you’re very tiny,” she shot back.
Hunter laughed out loud.
Low class jerks, Blair muttered to himself, sipping his beer. Good comeback, ma’am.
“Bitch,” the other man grumbled as the waitress walked away.
Hunter shook his head, still laughing. “You and women.”
It seemed, Blair thought, that it was the litany of the male gender to forever be the pursuer, women’s liberation notwithstanding. Being the pursuer meant one had to put up with an awful lot of rejection.
Not something I need to worry about anymore, Blair thought. He examined that idea closer. I may never come on to another woman again. Why would I need to? Jim’s the most perfect, the most attentive lover imaginable. Hell, I’m downright spoiled. Spoiled rotten. Maybe he calls it “insurance” to make sure I don’t leave, but… Blair’s brow furrowed as the meaning of Jim’s words hit full force. Does he really think that without the “insurance” I’d ever leave him? No. Surely, Jim would know better than that. Jim had a lot of foibles, but even he wasn’t that insecure.
Not that I’ve ever said anything to indicate being ready to make a commitment, Blair realized, beginning to feel uncomfortable. Except… I am the one who suggested we forego the condoms. But that wouldn’t mean that one of us still couldn’t be with a woman, using a condom, without worrying about bringing disease into our bed.
But Jim keeps talking like I’m it. Forever. The one. Because his senses want me, and he knows I’m not afraid of them.
Not just his senses. Blair ran his finger along his lip. He says it’s from the heart. He even says “I love you” to me sometimes. Big, stoic, tight-lipped Jim.
Why can’t I ever say it back?
Blair looked up when a group of dark-suited men walked toward the booth. He could see Jim standing in the doorway, ready to block Hunter’s exit, if there was trouble.
The FBI surrounded Hunter’s booth and promptly arrested him, while his companion and others in the bar looked on in shock. So greatly outnumbered, Hunter didn’t even try to put up a fight.
Blair left his beer and followed the group of agents out of the bar. You’ll spend twenty years in prison, Hunter, and I bet you still don’t get a proper blow job.
Blair sat in the break room later that evening, reading the newspaper while eating a bag of chips. The reports on the Hunter bust had been completed and turned over to the FBI. Jim was down in the garage, consulting with the PD auto mechanic about his truck’s carburetor.
“Hi, Sandy,” Megan said as she walked in and went over to the soda machine.
“Hey, Meg.” Blair looked up. “How’s it going?”
“Better than some nights, worse than others.” She popped the lid on her soda can and turned to face him. After glancing around as though to make sure they were alone, she casually asked, “How are things with you and Jim?”
Blair shrugged. It’s the first time she’d said anything since he’d visited her apartment a number of weeks ago. But then, he hadn’t exactly courted their friendship lately. “It’s good.” He smiled. “Great, in fact.” But he was all too aware of the flatness of his own voice. Why is that feeling – lack of feeling – always there? Where’s my sense of excitement and wonder and joy? Or how about simple happiness?
If she noticed, she didn’t let on. She smiled broadly. “I’m glad to hear it. One can certainly see the difference in Jim.”
Blair turned his gaze back to the paper. Yeah, Simon has noticed, too. Funny I haven’t. Is that because of me, or simply because I’m too close to Jim? Do I not want to see Jim’s joy, because I can’t find my own?
“I’d better get back,” Megan said as she turned.
Blair looked up as an idea formed. “Megan,” he said, pushing his glasses up his nose.
“Yes?” she paused.
“Hey, uh, do you mind if I borrow one of your bikes sometime in the next week or two?”
She brightened. “Sure. Go ahead.” She tilted her head, her smile warming. “Would you like some company?”
Feeling self-conscious that he had spent so little time with her lately, Blair felt all the more guilty when he said, “Uh, no, actually. I think I need to spend an afternoon by myself.” Belatedly, he wondered if she would think that meant that there was some problem between himself and Jim.
Her smiled remained. “No problem, as you Americans say.”
“Thanks. I appreciate it.” He looked back at his newspaper, listening to her walk out.
He wondered if this is qualified as “taking charge” of his life.
Jim hung up the phone at his desk. Another satisfied creditor. Being told that the payment would be in the mail tomorrow in full went a long ways toward persuading the sharks to drop various late fees and penalties. All told, he had saved Blair over $1,000 in such charges, merely by turning on the Ellison charm. Of course, he hadn’t bothered telling Blair because he knew the significance would be lost on his partner. Blair just wanted to wash his hands of the settling of his debts, just as he’d washed his hands of the creation of them. But that was okay. As long as he could get the kid out of this mess and on to a fresh start, it was all the recognition Jim needed.
Jim shook his head, amused at himself. The kid. How long had it been since he’d thought of Blair in those terms?
Spoiled little brat is more like it, he thought with affection. Well, maybe not a brat. Warmth seeped through him. Spoiled little love. It surprised him to realize how little it would bother him to keep Blair locked up like a treasure. Just unlock him when it’s time for his loving. He snorted out loud. Spoiled, indeed. I wonder if I’ve created a monster. Suppose, some day, I don’t have the energy or the inclination to sate him so much. Then what would happen? Would Blair go looking elsewhere? Naw, he’s too loyal. I hope he didn’t take me too seriously when I mentioned his pleasure being my insurance.
Jim gathered up the paper before him, the one that had the number to make the last phone call, and put it in the folder where he kept Blair’s financial papers. The garnishment had been annulled, and most of the forty grand had been put in the mail in the form of various payoff arrangements. Jim did most of the calling from the PD, but he was careful to call only when there were very few people around, and those people were too busy with their own work to be eavesdropping on other conversations. It had been less than two weeks since he and Blair had deposited the forty thousand into a new checking account, making them both signors. Jim felt he’d made a lot of progress since that day.
Now we have a joint account, he thought with syrupy satisfaction.
“Where’s Sandburg?” Jim looked up to see Simon standing over him. He’d heard his captain approach, but hadn’t known his superior would be stopping at his desk.
“Making a stop at the post office and then heading home.”
Simon nodded. “How about some dinner? My treat.”
Jim wondered why that sounded ominous. He reached for the phone. “I’ll leave Sandburg a message on the machine, so he can join us.”
Simon reached out, his hand hovering above Jim’s. “Nothing against Sandburg, but I’d like to have you to myself for a short time, if you don’t mind.” His grin was lecherous.
“O-kay,” Jim said uneasily. He grabbed the receiver. “Then I’ll leave him a message that I won’t be home for a while.” He hit the speed dial.
Simon shook his head, chuckling. “You’re worse than a husband on his wife’s beeper.”
Jim shrugged, not minding that Simon was having a laugh at his expense. But he defended, “It’s basic courtesy.” He heard the beep and said, “Hey, Chief, Simon wants to talk to me about something, so we’re going out for a bite. That special cleanser for the bathroom is on the counter, so use it when you clean tonight.” He hung up, then stood and grabbed his coat. “Where to?”
They ended up at a franchise steak house. After the beers were served and their orders placed, Jim said, “So, why did you want to get me alone, Simon?”
Almost apologetically, Simon replied, “It’s easier to talk to you frankly when Sandburg isn’t being a distraction.” He gestured to the empty chair between them.
Jim wasn’t sure if that was a slight against his partner. “A distraction for whom?”
Simon chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Heh. Heh. Don’t sound so defensive, Jim. Sandburg is a distraction wherever he goes. It’s not like he can walk into a room and nobody is going to take note of him.”
Jim supposed that was true enough. He wondered if it would still be true if Blair didn’t have all that hair. He sipped his beer, mentally braced himself, then asked, “What did you want to talk to me so frankly about?”
Simon sat straighter in his seat and folded his hands on the tabletop. “My feelings are a bit hurt.” His tone made it plain that he was exaggerating – a little.
A shot of concern went through Jim’s heart. “Why?” He sipped his beer again.
“Because you’re holding out on me.”
Jim grinned self-consciously. “Holding out about what? What are you talking about?”
Simon sighed. “Jim, I’m a detective. Was a detective when you were still in boot camp. So, I’ll cut to the chase. Either you’ve gone off and got a religion that’s changed your whole outlook on our miserable world; or else you’ve got yourself a woman. Now, knowing you, I find the religion part to be a bit much to believe. So, that leaves just one alternative.”
Jim released a heavy breath. So, here it was. He wished Blair were here. His partner had a right to be in on this conversation. But then, Blair had told Megan without Jim being there. “We intended to tell you but just hadn’t picked a time. As our friend, you have a right to know. As our captain,” he shrugged, “I wasn’t sure you’d want to know.”
Simon blinked in surprise. “So, it’s somebody in Major Crimes? Megan?”
“No, no, no,” Jim said quickly. Megan was the only female detective who had been in Major Crimes for more than a few months; others tended to come and go. “It’s not a woman, Simon.” He realized belatedly that he probably should have led into that statement a little more slowly.
Simon blanched. “Not a woman?” he said with puzzlement.
In a way it was funny, Jim thought, how long it took his superior to figure out what that statement meant.
Screwing up his face in disbelief, Simon said, “A man?”
Jim was suddenly tired of all the word games. With a hint of disgust that they were going about this so childishly, he said, “Who you do you think it is, Simon?” His eyes flicked to the empty chair between them.
“Sandburg?” Simon said in a whisper, almost as though fearing he was saying something dirty.
Jim let his silence answer as he studied his captain’s face, which went through a myriad of changes within a few seconds.
Finally, Simon released a long, slow breath. “I admit it: I’m stunned. You two make a great detective partnership. But… being partners in… life….” His face screwed up again, though he seemed to be working at controlling it. Then, suddenly, he seemed resigned to the truth, and his expression became more impassive. He sipped his beer. “Let me guess: Sandburg made the first move.”
Curious, Jim asked, “Why do you say that?”
“Come on, Jim!” Simon seemed genuinely appalled at the question. “Sandburg idolizes you. He has, for years. If you could only step out of yourself and see the way he looks at you. Of course,” he relented, “it’s not quite so obvious now as it was early on. But put you and him in the same room and – no matter who else is there – his eyes are only for you. All he cares about is how you’re reacting to what’s being said. What you’re thinking. What you’re feeling. His whole life centers around you.”
Jim filed that away for future reflection. Right now, Simon deserved his undivided attention. But he was flippant when he said, “So that gave him some magical power over me that got me into bed?”
Simon sighed. “You’re being defensive. I’m sorry I’m making you defensive. You know, Jim, the big giveaway that something was up was how happy you’ve seemed lately. How mellow.” He chuckled. “Despite Henri and Rafe thinking you’re a hard-assed prick.”
Jim grimaced, remembering the stakeout. Not one of his prouder moments.
“All I’m saying,” Simon leaned forward, “is that if Blair wanted you, like that, it’s not like he wouldn’t have figured out how best to go about it, considering all the studying he’s done of you over the years.”
Jim glanced away a moment, gathering his thoughts. Then he said, “If I’m sounding defensive, it’s because you’re being presumptuous. I really don’t want you to put your foot in it any more than you already have, Simon. So, I’ll tell you some things.” His mouth corner twitched. “Assuming it’s not too much information.”
“We’re both adults here, Jim.” Simon sounded appreciative that Jim had made the decision to talk. “I don’t want to know exactly what goes on in your bed, but other than that….”
Jim took his last sip of beer, tilted his empty glass at the waitress walking by, who nodded, and folded his hands on the tabletop, mirroring his superior. “It’s been a bit of a rough road,” he said thoughtfully. “Especially for Blair.” It suddenly occurred to him that there was no one else he could talk to about this. It might be good to talk to Simon, to have a friend to bounce this off of. He relaxed. “It’s been hard to separate how much of this is a sentinel thing, and how much of it is just… feelings. Both are a part of me, so I don’t really have a problem with it; I don’t see a need to separate the definitions. But Blair’s a scientist at heart. He needs to understand things. And when it involves his own heart….” He shrugged. “It’s been hard for him.” He heard the quiet in his voice as he gazed at the tabletop. “He’s having a tough time trusting that my desire for him – to have him as a life partner – isn’t some kind of temporary sensory spike.”
“He’s always been insecure,” Simon noted.
They both looked up as the waitress arrived with their food and more beer. They spent a few moments cutting into their steaks. After Jim swallowed his first bite, he said, “Naomi loves Blair to death, and I’m sure she indulged his every whim growing up. But boys need a father.”
“You’d know,” Simon pointed out.
Jim thought about that, even as he inwardly cringed at his own father being criticized. So old and unable to defend himself now. “The army, especially some specific individuals within the army, made up for my father’s neglect in a big way.”
Simon nodded as he chewed. “You’re a fine man, Jim.”
It was an unexpectedly bald statement. Jim felt a flush of warmth wash through him. He was tempted to let it go, but he could feel Sandburg’s phantom disappointment in him. Softly, he said, “Thanks, Simon.”
They ate and drank a few moments longer. Then Jim continued his train of thought. “Blair never had any sense of structure, until he met me. I think that’s where all that insecurity comes from. He never had anyone set boundaries for him so that he had a sense of place or belonging.”
“Which is why,” Simon continued for him, “it’s no surprise that Blair was so fixated on you. You were a big brother to him, even a father in some ways. So,” Simon said carefully, looking up at Jim, “that’s why this has kind of thrown me. I have to stop and remind myself that you’re consenting adults. It would be easy to take advantage.” He paused suddenly, his fork halfway to his mouth. “Though, now that I think about it, I’m not sure who would be taking advantage of whom.”
Jim wasn’t sure what to make of that statement, but he realized he was grinning.
“So,” Simon continued after a moment, “are you telling me that it’s you who made the first move?”
“I guess so,” Jim admitted. “It definitely wasn’t Blair who made the first move. So that leaves me. But it came about so gradually… for me, it just seemed natural. But I had the advantage of my senses and the confidence in what they responded to.”
“How long ago?” Simon asked.
“Going on three months now, I think. Actually, it all started when Blair broke his arm, though that in itself didn’t have anything to do with it.”
Casually, Simon asked, “Why now? Why not a few years ago?”
“Blair’s wondering the same thing. I don’t really have an answer. Except I think a few years ago it would have felt… I don’t know, too much in the family. Almost incestuous. But more than that,” he considered a long moment, “I guess some of Blair’s personal beliefs are starting to rub off on me. He’s always been a strong believer in things happening for a reason, and that there are no coincidences, and that sort of thing. So, I guess I believe that now was the right time. We wouldn’t have been ready for it before. Now we can handle it.” After a moment, he amended, “Though Blair’s still working some things out.”
“I guess,” Simon said, pushing his plate away and settling back with a subdued belch, “that’s why I’ve noticed something different about you, but not about Blair.”
Jim considered that. Then he admitted, “Yeah, I’m pretty happy.” He grinned. “If it weren’t for Blair’s insecurities, I’d say I’ve found nirvana.” He shrugged again. “But I have faith he’ll work things out eventually.” His brow furrowed as he cut into a tough section of steak. “He’s just never had a chance to really get to know himself.” The knife successful, he looked up, holding the prize piece of meat. “He has such a generous spirit, always giving to others. He needs to allow himself some selfishness, and learn who Blair Sandburg is as a unique individual. Ever since I’ve known him, it’s like his whole identity has been tied up with academics, and then with me. Of course, the academic part got stripped from him. And I’m through with sucking up every bit of him that he’s willing to give to me. He needs a chance to be his own man.” He plunged the meat into his mouth.
“All this sounds familiar,” Simon said. “Or rather, I think I was thinking along similar lines back when the whole dissertation mess happened. Truly, even after you two patched things up and were okay again, I was surprised he didn’t find his own apartment. I thought you’d both figure out it would be healthy for you to spend some time apart. There aren’t many people, even in marriages, who can spend that much time together and still have a healthy relationship.”
“That actually might not have been a bad idea. But we were both too insecure after the dissertation mess,” Jim said. “Plus, with the sentinel thing, I felt better having him around, even though my senses hadn’t been a major problem in a while. And Blair, in particular, felt better being around. He always insisted on backing me up, even when I felt I didn’t need him. He has a strong need to be needed.” Jim had just taken a sip of his beer, and he suddenly had to remember to swallow. Blair has a strong need to be needed. Was that something important he’d overlooked lately?
“I hope it works out, Jim.” Simon sighed heavily. “I don’t even want to think about what a mess it’s going to be, if it doesn’t.”
“It’ll work out,” Jim said, finding pleasure in his own confidence. “Because of Blair, I trust my senses. My senses picked him out for me, even if they didn’t have to search very far to find him.”
They were silent while they relinquished their plates to the waitress. They exchanged a glance and agreed on coffee, in answer to her question.
When she was gone, Simon asked, “You’ll tell Sandburg that we talked, right?”
“Of course.”
“Good. I won’t have to pretend I don’t know. Anybody else know?”
“Blair told Megan a while back. He’s waiting to see Naomi in person before he tells her. In fact, he went to the post office today to drop off a letter to her, since she’s somewhere without email access, and letting her know he’s got some big news the next time she’s in town. Nobody else knows.”
Simon settled back and stretched his legs out to one side. “So, you’re planning on staying mostly in the closet?”
Jim furrowed his brow, realizing he and Blair really hadn’t talked about it much. “Not necessarily. I figure people in Major Crimes will figure it out eventually, and we won’t deny it. I’ll tell my father and brother at some point, before the next family gathering. They’ll both be surprised, I’m sure. But my brother won’t care, and my father probably won’t want to know, so he’ll comment as little as possible about it. He likes Blair, at least.”
Their coffee arrived. As Simon stirred, he said, “I know I don’t have to say this, Jim, but I’m going to anyway: I hope you two don’t put me in a difficult position by doing something stupid while on duty.”
Jim sipped his cup. “For one thing, Simon, Blair and I have too much common sense about that. For another, we get plenty at home, so we don’t need to grope each other on the job.”
“Heh. Heh. I knew you had to be getting some somewhere, to account for your pleasant temperament lately.”
“You have no idea,” Jim said reverently, then realized it was a loaded statement that begged for details.
Simon was still grinning. “One thing I did always know is that Sandburg would love to get you into bed, if for no other reason than to do first-hand research on Sex with a Sentinel. It would surely have been his prize chapter.”
Jim chuckled and felt himself blushing. “He was always endearingly curious about that.” Never mind that he has since found out that, according to him, my cock is suffering major sensory deprivation.
“So?” Simon wiggled his eyebrows. “Can’t you tell me something without getting too detailed? Is it better than before your senses came online?”
Jim gazed into his coffee cup for a long moment. He realized he wanted to reply, if only because it would present Blair in a positive light. “It’s out of this world, because it’s with Blair.” He knew he needed to clarify and folded his hands on the tabletop again. “My senses have to feel safe in order to operate properly. That’s why I’ve always needed Blair at my back, and he’s always understood that better than me. I trust him – only him – with my senses. So, yes, it’s different now. Not since I’ve come online, but since I’ve been with Blair.” He was reluctant to get into details about how it was his own choice to dial down his sensory experience with prior bedmates before Blair. Plus, it makes Blair crazy that I still stay dialed down in my cock.
“Wow,” Simon said. “I guess that does explain your smile.” He sipped his coffee. “But from the way you describe it, I can understand why Blair would question if it’s just a sensory thing. Though,” he shrugged, “I’m not sure why that would bother him. If anybody on earth is after a ‘sensory’ experience for the sake of a sensory experience, it’s Sandburg.”
Jim chuckled. But he was serious when he said, “Sandburg’s heart is… fragile. It’s virgin. Tender. The idea of a steady relationship – a permanent relationship – has thrown him for a loop. He wasn’t prepared. It wasn’t something he was ever looking for, and he’s still working it through.”
“While enjoying the hell out of himself in your bedroom,” Simon guessed.
“I think so. I hope so. I – “ Jim abruptly paused, wondering if he was on the verge of saying too much. But Simon was waiting, so he thought what the hell and finished his sentence. “With my senses, he can’t fake his physical response to me. Or even his emotional ones, when you consider the physical symptoms.” Jim smiled warmly. “I know when he’s feeling good.”
Simon snorted, then growled, “I guess being a sentinel means you never have to worry about fake orgasms.”
Jim chuckled. “That would be a bit hard for Blair to fake anyway, being a man.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Yeah. And, no, I don’t having to worry about him faking. But before you get too envious, remember how much of a headache this sentinel thing has been over the years. The sexual advantages only work for me with Blair.” And he still thinks my cock is living a physically retarded life. I need to shove it into his mouth one night soon, and he’ll be so relieved to finally be sucking it, he won’t have time to worry about how deprived it is.
“Well that kills it then,” Simon grumbled. “If I were a sentinel, knowing I’d have to sleep with Sandburg to experience the sexual advantages… well, no offense, but I think I’d have to take a vow of celibacy.”
Jim let out a mock sigh of relief. “And here I was, worried about losing him to you.”
“I could maybe borrow him for some meditation techniques,” Simon joked. He shook his head and shuddered. “It’s going to take some doing to get the mental images out of my mind, especially when I see you two together now. Please tell me he’s the one who bottoms.” Simon had just sipped his coffee, and set it down so fast that it sloshed. “Never mind. I don’t need the details.”
Jim waited, enjoying Simon’s discomfiture. The curiosity was still written all over the down-turned face. He offered, “We haven’t tried everything every which way yet. Not enough hours in the night. But he’ll end up on top eventually.”
Simon held up his hand. “Too much information, Jim.”
Jim grinned widely. “Like you really don’t wonder.”
“Wondering and truly wanting to know are two different things,” Simon protested.
Jim shrugged. “Okay. But this might be the only time I’m in the mood to give this much detail.”
“Wise ass. You’re enjoying the hell out of the fact that you’ve got a tremendous advantage over us mere normal-senses men. This is the first time I’ve seen you really glad about your senses. Bragging about them even!”
Jim shrugged. It was true. “Sandburg would say that I’m way overdue.”
Simon grimaced. “Sandburg is a dozen years your junior. It scares me sometimes, the way you defer to him.”
That sobered Jim. He defended, “Blair believes in all that stuff about reincarnation. He’s told me that when souls have incarnated over and over, and learned a lot during their various lifetimes, they become what is known as ‘an old soul’.” He looked at Simon squarely, “Like Ghandi.” He nodded, affirming his thought to himself. “If that stuff is true, I think Blair is an old soul. He has a wisdom that can’t be explained by his thirty-one years, or by his upbringing.”
Simon slowly shook his head back and forth, his grin full of joy. “You’ve got it bad, Jim.”
Blair dismounted from the bike and set the kickstand. The pond beckoned, but he wasn’t here for a dip. Besides, it wasn’t anywhere near as hot as it had been the day he and Jim had been here. That day had been one of his favorites in recent memory. A day of contentment and joy, simple companionship, without all the other stuff that had happened since.
The sun disappeared behind the clouds as Blair undressed. Still, he retained his shades. Grabbing the folded picnic blanket from the back of the bike, he carried it with him to the top of the large rock that he had sunbathed and meditated on that day.
Meditation was his most reliable method of self-healing, and he hadn’t done it since. He wasn’t sure why. Probably, his life had been too busy. Or maybe the dip into the well of mental serenity had been replaced by the serenity that followed intense physical pleasure. Or maybe it was just a matter of not having as much alone time, since he and Jim spent so much time together.
Those were all merely excuses, he knew.
Blair settled himself on the blanket, Indian style, on top of the rock. Taking note of the two male ducks that were swimming in the pond, he took a deep breath then released it slowly. He did this a few more times. Then he rested his hands, palms up, on his thighs and closed his eyes.
He let various thoughts run loose in his head, knowing they would eventually still as he focused on his breathing. A lifetime of meditation had made him good at this, despite his lack of recent practice. It didn’t seem long before he felt himself in a space that was his alone, where the Blair Sandburg of this lifetime, an independent spirit, resided in its purest form.
Hello, he said to himself. He let his sense of himself seep in as he continued to breathe methodically.
This was going to be a challenging meditation, and he wanted help from a superior spirit. Blair honored all religions, and he enjoyed inviting various gods and messiahs into his meditations at different times. This morning he had been straightening up his old room and had come across the Lakota pipe that had been given to him as a gift. That made it appropriate, he thought, to invite White Buffalo Calf Pipe Woman to oversee his meditation. It was all the more apt that this particular messenger had told of the rainbow bridge to the Lakota people, the rainbow bridge being the structure that would allow all peoples to cross and join in unity, and the pipe was the symbol of peace that would result. Blair hoped to cross some sort of rainbow bridge of his own, uniting his conscious self with his elusive, troubled spirit.
In the meditative space behind his closed eyes, Blair put White Buffalo Calf Pipe Woman off to the left, and asked her to watch over him and keep him safe while he examined difficult issues within his spirit. Her presence also served as a reminder that he was connected to all living things, residing on the Earth and beyond. He was therefore automatically lovable and worthy of forgiveness for whatever flaws he possessed in his human form.
Blair felt that he had reached a good space of non-judgment. Confident now, he summoned forth his fears, and imagined the energy named Fear siphoning off his body as violet light, and coming together to form a rotating ball in front of him. Pictures and memories popped out of the ball, and he squelched his panic that he might become overwhelmed. Show me the immediate fear, he commanded the light.
A picture of Jim emerged – no surprise. Jim smiled tenderly at him and said, “I love you.”
Why can’t I say, “I love you” back? Blair demanded of himself, then reminded himself that judgment was inappropriate here. Now, he calmly asked, Why can’t I say, “I love you?”
Because I am afraid, was the immediate answer. Now the challenge: But of what?
If he said, “I love you” back, what horrible thing would happen?
Jim would be happy. Jim would be pleased. He doesn’t need to hear the words, but it would be nice for him to hear them.
Your first, greatest responsibility is to honor your own spirit, his wiser self reminded. Jim has no place here. This time is for you and you alone. Your fears are all about you and have nothing to do with him.
Okay, okay. It had always been one of Blair’s greatest difficulties during meditation to not think about what he should or could be doing for others. He took a few deep breaths to center himself once again, and checked to make sure the loving light of the Lakota messenger was still shining upon him. My fears begin and end with me.
Okay, he was ready to face them again. To say that I love someone is to give part of myself away, he decided. I would lose something of myself, because the other person would then have it. I would be less than I am, because a part of me was gone from myself and held by the other. I would be vulnerable to what the other person decided to do with that part. They could discard it.
Ouch! Blair gasped out loud. I couldn’t bear a part of me being discarded, even if I could then heal the wound left by the part of me given away. I don’t want to be discarded. Even if the other person has the right, in honor of the health of their own spirit, I couldn’t stand being discarded. I want to MEAN something to somebody.
He felt the first leaking of tears behind his closed eyes. Oh, man, this is going to be a heavy session. But nothing can hurt me here. Nothing can hurt me. Nothing can hurt me.
IloveJim, IloveJim, IloveJim, IloveJim. His heart pounded with the litany. I can’t tell him because he said it first, and it’ll be like I’m responding to what he said. I should have been the one to say it first.
No, that’s stupid.
I would never have said it first, because I don’t deserve his love. I don’t deserve anybody’s love.
No, that’s stupid.
I’m afraid to tell him I love him because it’ll commit me. To him. I want to be committed to him, but… I don’t deserve being committed to him.
Why don’t I deserve it? I’m a good person. I’m lovable and I do good. I try very hard not to hurt or damage others.
But I did a very bad thing once. I injured myself. Very badly. “My thesis ‘The Sentinel’ is a fraud.” It was necessary, but I damaged myself. I had no idea at the time….
I am damaged. I am not worthy of love because I am damaged.
Oh, God – ur, Cow Lady -- please help me heal the damage I have done to myself. It was necessary, but it is past time for me to heal. I don’t know how to heal myself.
A wolf trotted across his vision. Oh, cool! Like the one when I was revived.
With the aid of long practice, Blair stilled himself and followed the image of the wolf. It trotted out into a desert. It was daylight and hot. The wolf paused beside a book in the sand. Blair looked closer.
The Sentinels of Paraguay. He smiled. Yes, I love that book. I first found it when I was twelve.
“What have you always wanted most of all?”
Who was that speaking? The wolf? Hey, his mouth doesn’t even move!
What have I always wanted most of all? To help other people I guess. To matter. To be important to somebody, even if not to a specific individual.
“What have you always wanted most of all?”
Wrong answer, huh? Okay, uh… I’ve wanted to live a good life.
“What have you always wanted most of all?”
Man, definitely wrong. The wolf was still standing over the book. Oh, I got it. Yes! Of course! More than anything in this life, I’ve always wanted my very own sentinel.
“What have you always wanted most of all?”
Still wrong. Then what…?
“What have you always wanted most of all?”
Blair gasped out loud. Amazing how starkly the truth stood out, when one found it. I’ve always wanted to be a sentinel.
“Great,” Jim grumbled as he took the steak out of the refrigerator. His nose told him that he’d left it in the refrigerator at least one day too long, and it was starting to rot. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to contemplate throwing it out. Maybe I’ll offer it to the neighbor downstairs, for her dog. Obnoxious little poodle that it was.
What did that leave as dinner possibilities? He stared at the bleak shelves. Salad stuff, of course. Maybe I can throw in some lunch meat and cheese and make a chef’s salad. But there was no reason to start it now. It wouldn’t take that long to make, especially if Sandburg were here to help. If he ever gets back from wherever he is.
Blair had had a tennis lesson this morning. And then he’d said something about a bike ride, making a point of being sure Jim understood he wasn’t invited. A bike ride meant being at Megan’s to pick up the bike, and then being at Megan’s to return it.
Jim released a sigh, well aware that it was an expression of self-pity. He’d encouraged Blair to get out more, and now he himself had gotten what he wished for, so he had spent his entire day off alone. Maybe he needed to make some new friends. Yeah, right. Making friends just wasn’t an Ellison thing to do.
His mood lightened when his ears tuned in to the movement of the elevator. A moment of focus, and he had tagged Blair’s heartbeat. It was beating just a bit fast, sort of like it did when Blair was excited about something. He’s going to be all aglow from his day and be babbling about it. Jim smiled. At least he was the one Blair would be babbling to.
“Hey, Chief,” Jim called in greeting as he heard the loft door open. He was still facing the refrigerator, trying to decide what he could snack on before dinner. The pickings were slim.
“Jim. Hey, Jim.” Blair’s footsteps came into the kitchen.
Jim closed the door. Turned around. And saw Blair Sandburg.
His partner looked flushed and happy, his frizzy hair fanned about his face, revealing that he must have showered at Megan’s after the bike ride. His eyes… sparkled.
“Hey, Jim,” Sandburg beamed.
Jim found himself grinning back, without even knowing why. “Hey, Chief,” he said amiably, moving closer.
Suddenly, Blair’s arms were outstretched, and the next thing Jim knew, his own arms were full of Blair. He let out an “oomph!” as his partner hopped off the floor, his legs and arms wrapping around Jim. “Whoaa!” Jim gasped in surprise.
Blair’s head fell back and he laughed, his arms coming to rest around Jim’s neck.
“Hey, what’s going on here?” Jim said, feeling his mouth hurt from smiling so broadly.
Blair’s head came back to look at Jim. “Oh man, Jim! I’ve just got the most incredible stuff to tell you.”
The “kid” was getting a bit heavy in his old age. Jim’s eyes scanned the apartment and settled on the sofa. “Oh, yeah?” he asked lovingly, moving in that direction. “What happened? You fell off your bike and hit your head and now you see life with crystal clarity?”
Blair let go another gleeful chuckle. “No, man. At least, that’s not how it happened. Jim. Do you have any idea who you’re looking at right now?”
Jim moved behind the sofa. He settled Blair’s rear on the back, letting the sofa take most of his partner’s weight. Otherwise, he was content to have those happy limbs wrapped around him. “Uh…. Let me see,” he contemplated Blair’s question. “Uh… Blair Sandburg? Detective Numero Uno of Major Crimes? Or, maybe, the Boston Strangler?”
Blair’s lips came together, almost as though they were forming a kiss. “Noooo,” he corrected happily. His eyes beamed at Jim. “You are looking at The Sentinel of the City.”
Now that was a new one. Jim cocked his head, wondering if Megan had taken pity on Sandburg and slipped him a happy pill. “What? So now you’re seeing and hearing things beyond what normal people see and hear?” Automatically, his senses reached out, and he couldn’t detect another sentinel in the room.
Blair laughed again, shaking his head. “No, man. See, as the Sentinel of the City, I need my tool – the one with the senses.”
Jim frowned. Okay, if not a happy pill, then some sort of hallucinatory medication. “Your tool?”
“Yes, Jim,” Blair gloated… almost sensually. “I’m the sentinel. The one who knows how to use the heightened senses. You’re the tool – the one with the senses.”
Jim considered that. Thinking back over the years, he reasoned, “I thought that made me the sentinel, and you my guide or shaman or something.”
Blair’s grin was huge and captivating, as were his eyes. Voice low enough to almost be a whisper, Blair said conspiratorially, “That’s how it looks on the surface. But think about it, Jim.” He was becoming more serious. “Your senses don’t work, except on the most basic level, without me. I’m the one who has to direct you as to when and how to use them. Even then, you resist me sometimes and complain about how you never wanted them.”
“Not recently,” Jim protested.
A knowing gleam lit up Sandburg’s eyes. “Jim. Think back to our cases and how we worked before the press conference. And how we’ve worked them since the press conference. How much your senses were involved when I was an observer, and how much they’ve been involved since I became your official partner.”
Jim was thoroughly confused, but he obeyed, not understanding the point. He shrugged. “My senses haven’t been such a big deal lately, but that’s because I’m so used to them.”
Blair shook his head back and forth. “Noooo.” His eyes settled on Jim’s. “The reason they haven’t big a ‘big deal’ is because you’ve been using them on the most minimal level. The reason you’ve been using them on the most minimal level is because that’s all I’ve asked you to do. I haven’t challenged you to stretch them. I’ve been almost, like, dormant since the press conference.” He suddenly smacked himself in the forehead. “I can’t believe howstupid I was! How I didn’t get it before.”
Jim was trying very hard to follow along. “Get what?”
“That I’m the one who makes this thing work!” The legs around Jim squeezed tighter, as though for emphasis. “Jim. I gave it up at the press conference. I didn’t mean to – I didn’t even realize it, because of everything that was going on then. But when I gave up my thesis, I gave up the dream of my life. Without being conscious of it, I thought that abandoning my thesis meant I had to abandon the way of the sentinel. I felt I had no right to ask anything of you, in terms of challenging your abilities or discovering anything new about them. Other than directing you to use them for the stuff that was old habit to us, I stopped functioning as the Sentinel of the City, and you stopped being much more than an obsolete tool. Thank God you were a great cop to begin with, because my failing hasn’t affected your – our – closure rate very much. But man, Jim, there’s so much more we could be doing to help solve cases. I just needed to understand what the fuck was going on with me, so I could get back online. And use you.”
Use me? Sandburg said it like it was the most natural statement in the world. “Because I’m just a… tool.”
Blair nodded vigorously. “Yeah. Like I’m a carpenter, and you’re my trusty hammer.”
Jim blinked. “A hammer. I’m your hammer.” Sandburg, I’m going to blackmail you for the next thirty years for this. A hammer!
Blair’s smile was absolutely blazing. “Isn’t it great? We can do great good together again.”
Jim was smiling back, despite himself. “Do good because… you’re a sentinel, and I’m a hammer.”
Another enthusiastic nod. “Uh-huh.” Then Blair’s head flew back and another laugh filled the room. “Man, I can’t believe how much it took for me to realize this.” His head straightened and he beamed at Jim. “Ah, man, the cosmos works in the most wonderful way.”
Jim’s eyebrows went to his forehead, asking the obvious question.
“Just imagine,” Blair explained, “if you were a sentinel. All on your own. Even if you could control all your senses, and didn’t have to worry about things like zone-outs, would you want to be a sentinel in a vacuum? Having to keep your secret all to yourself, other than perhaps your captain knowing? Would you want to do the sentinel thing without me?”
Jim felt his mouth widen into a huge grin. “No.”
Blair laughed. “Right. See, the gods looked down on me. At the age of twelve – when I was more aware than even most adults – they gave me a book to find out in some woods somewhere. I don’t even remember what state me and Naomi lived in. Anyway, it was Burton’s The Sentinels of Paraguay, and I thought it was the neatest thing!” His eyes flashed at Jim. “Ah, man, I wanted to be a sentinel more than anything. To have all that power with my senses and use it to help people. I’d be important. I’d matter to people. They would need me.”
Ah, Chief, Jim thought warmly.
“But, of course, I wasn’t a sentinel. Yet sentinels were still my focus when I started my academic life. Since I couldn’t be a sentinel, finding one became the ultimate dream of mine. And the great Powers That Be sent me one, when that nurse I was tutoring told me about your records at the hospital. In the meantime, the gods gave you the heightened senses at birth. But there was all these roadblocks to you using them growing up. And even, after everything, when you wound up in Cascade after Peru, with your senses coming back online, the cosmos set it up so that you couldn’t work the senses by yourself. You needed me. Fate, Jim. No way is it coincidence.”
“I know,” Jim said gently. He just now realized that he did, deep down, really believe in some sort of fate.
“But the beauty,” Blair continued breathlessly, “in the grand plan of the cosmos was the way they arranged it so we’d have to meet up for this gift to work. We would never be alone with the burden. You had the senses, but I’m the one who understood how to make them work. You never seemed to want to use them yourself,” Blair said, more subdued, “and that used to get me really frustrated with you sometimes. Because, if it were me, I didn’t think I’d everbe frustrated. I’d always be tripping all over myself, trying to find some new ways to use them. And maybe that’s why it all had to work this way, with the gift split between the two of us. We balance each other. You have the tools within your genes. But I’m the craftsman who knows how to use the tools. Without the tools, I can do nothing. Without me as the craftsman, your senses are virtually impotent. We’re forced to work together, and,” Blair grinned broadly, “I can’t see anything but a wonderful beauty in that. Just like, there’s a beauty in how God arranged it so that it takes two to make a baby.”
Jim had, he saw now, missed so very, very much the enthusiasm of the old Blair. “I love you,” he told him. But he was still going to get back at him for that hammer comment.
Blair’s face glowed with one huge smile. “I. Love. You.” He grinned even wider.
Jim thought he heart was going to burst. Tenderly, he asked, “Does that mean you’re through with all your bullshit about how incapable you are of love?”
Blair nodded twice. “I’d lost my dream of the sentinel,” he explained. “At the press conference, I thought it was destroyed right along with the thesis, because I didn’t know one was separate from the other. The thesis was just words on paper – a tangible symbol of what you and I did together. But I didn’t realize that, and I let my dream of being a sentinel die with the thesis. And because I’d lost what I wanted most of all, I felt unlovable. I was a fraud of my essential self, but I didn’t realize that fraud was a creation of my own making. I just let life happen to me, instead of trying to live it.”
“What changed?” Jim wondered.
Blair’s face lit up. “Oh, man, Jim! It was the most incredible thing! I went to the pond that we went to that time – when we went skinny-dipping – and I meditated on that rock. Man, it was so cool! My spirit wolf came to visit me. And I was into this heavy brain-storming session about why I was afraid of the things I was afraid of, and the wolf kept asking me what I wanted most of all. And that’s when I realized, for the very first time, that I had always wanted to actually be a sentinel – not just study one. I had to face that, without being humble or feeling guilty or selfish about it. And then I realized that I am a sentinel. But I’m a useless sentinel without my tool.”
“Your hammer,” Jim specified.
“Yeah,” Blair giggled, as though understanding that Jim didn’t like being reduced to an inanimate object. His voice became low, sensuous. “You’re my hammer.”
Jim wanted to kiss him really bad right then.
“And you know what else?” Blair asked.
“What?”
“Because you’re my tool, it’s very important that I take care of you. So that you’ll always function to the best of your ability. And since this particular tool happens to be a living, breathing human being, taking care of it means making this tool very happy.” Blair grinned lovingly. “Your happiness is my number one priority.”
That was sweet. But Jim felt obligated to point out, “I’m very happy, Blair.”
That dark head shook back and forth. “You don’t have a clue, Jim. You think that a lack of negativity in your personal life is happiness. Uh-uh.” Another large smile appeared. “You’re just a big dumb, one-dimensional tool. You don’t know anything about enjoying life. And that’s going to change, starting right now.” Sandburg’s eyes drifted up to the bedroom, then lowered back to Jim. In a sultry voice, he said, “I’m the one who’s in charge in our bedroom, starting tonight.”
Jim’s loins quivered.
“For that matter, I’m in charge of everything about us. And right now,” his arms relaxed around Jim’s neck, “I’m going to kiss you. And when your lips touch mine, you aren’t going to do any of the spit-swabbing. You need to learn some manners about kissing. Don’t worry, I’ll still let you do the interior vacuuming, but not when I simply want to kiss.” He snorted with a grin. “Jim, man, you are perfect with the ass end and cock end of things. But you’ve got a lot to learn about the mouth end.”
Oh. He hadn’t been aware of his failings there. But he didn’t have time to feel that his masculinity was threatened, because Blair was requiring his participation.
Blair’s hand was on his jaw. “Keep your tongue inside your mouth,” he instructed.
It was difficult, but Jim obeyed. In fact, he was a little puzzled at how eager his own obedience was. Thought fled as full, plush lips settled on his own. Blair’s tongue darted out and licked at his lips. Jim felt light and airy, and he opened his mouth and shivered as Blair’s tongue darted in.
Blair pulled back, looking blissful. “On a tactile scale of one of to ten,” he asked softly, “where are your lips right now?”
Jim imagined a dial. “About a two.”
Blair nodded. “Want to dial up?” he asked. Without waiting for an answer, he leaned forward and touched his lips to Jim’s again. Then pressed.
Jim started turning the dial up. The pressure of the softness against his lips increased, and Jim felt his own nerves being stimulated so that it felt like miniature fire crackers were going off. A lightning bolt surged through his groin, and he abruptly pulled back. “I’m feeling it in my cock,” he gasped, fearing what further exploration would prompt him to do.
“Okay,” Blair soothed, watching his face. “Casual kissing needs to stay at about a two. That’s good to know.”
Blair unwrapped himself and placed his feet on the floor, standing up, which put him very close to Jim. He placed his hand on Jim’s belly. His fingers slid down and worked with the closure of Jim’s pants. “I’m going to show you something, so you’ll understand what I’ve been talking about.” The clasp was undone.
Talking about just now? Jim wondered. Or…? He closed his eyes as Blair’s hand felt inside his underwear and found his cock. It gripped him, and Jim gasped loudly. So good.
Blair’s voice was soft, serious, as he stroked Jim. “On a scale of one to ten, where’s the sense of touch in your cock?”
It was hard even thinking about dials, let alone imaging them, as the hand continued to stroke. Dear God. But he found the numbers. “Point five,” he gasped out.
“Good,” Sandburg praised. Then, gently, “Now bend your knees and go on down to the floor. It’s all right.”
Jim obeyed, his eyes closed, and was relieved that Blair was following him down to the hardwood surface. A firm hand on his chest pushed him to lie back.
He could feel Blair lie alongside him, the hand still moving. It shifted him so that his erection was now free of clothing, his inner and outer shirts pulled up. His owner said, “Now turn the dial up to one. It’s all right, Jim. You’re listening to my voice, so you’re not going to zone. It’s okay to turn it up and feel a little more.”
Blair was right. This was safe. Keeping his eyes closed, Jim imagined his hand reaching out and carefully turning the dial from one-half up to one. He could feel the capillaries in his penis fill with blood. He made a whimpering noise, because it felt so good.
“That’s very good,” Blair praised again. “Feel my hand, Jim. Feel how it wants to please you. This is your right Physical pleasure is the gift that the gods gave to you for yourself, as a reward for carrying the burden of being a sentinel’s tool.”
Blair believed all this so thoroughly. Jim trusted him and quit thinking about restraining his cock.
It did feel so damn good. He was getting close.
A whisper appeared beside his ear. “Let’s go on up to one-point-five, Jim. Let those nerves down there feel how good this all his. Let them know it. Let them own it. When it happens, let yourself cry out to express how the peak feels.”
He moved the dial to half past one. The flesh of Blair’s hand came more into tactile focus. The muscles and tendons gripping around his cock, mimicking an age-old movement that seemed to pull the pleasure right from it.
“Don’t be afraid of the climax,” Blair continued to instruct. “It’s just a healthy release. Nothing bad will happen to you, or to me. It will be only good. Just more intense than what you’re used to. But it’s a first step to making you healthier than you ever imagined.”
The peak was there, strong and powerful. Jim cried out gibberish, arching his hips into the milking hand, as his lower nerves shimmered and sang to the synapses in his brain. He felt a beautiful darkness come over him as his male organs drained themselves, leaving the most incredible sensation in their wake. “Godalmighty,” he murmured.
For a moment, Blair’s hand just rested while holding him. Then it let go. “Man,” Blair said after a moment, “I just can’t believe how much cream you release.” Then, delightfully wicked, “I’m gonna eventually get you to a point where you just have little dribbles, like me. Because I’ll keep you drained.”
That almost sounded threatening. Jim opened his eyes and found Blair still alongside him, watching him. His partner smiled warmly. “Did it feel better than usual?”
Jim nodded, hoping he wasn’t going to have to find words to give details.
“I figure,” Blair went on, “at their most casual, each of your senses are at least twice that of an ordinary man. So, even if genital sensation is your weakest tactile sense, that means if your scale goes up to ten, then the average man experiences sex as a five. You repressed yourself down to below normal, probably at adolescence. And then, when your senses came online, you dialed down even more to compensate. In other words, as a result of fears about too much sensation, you over-compensated and put yourself so low that you barely feel anything. So, since you’ve been experiencing the pleasure of orgasm on the lower end of the scale, it’s no wonder that you don’t consider sex as even a temporary solution for tension or frustration. That’s why sex for the sake of sex – strictly as a physical release – is such a foreign concept to you. You’re a moral person, but your caution about sex has nothing to do with morals. Sex is merely a natural act of completion when you’re feeling particularly close to someone you’re attracted to. For you, it’s served no other function. Until recently, that is, when it’s been all about pleasing me.”
Jim couldn’t even begin to break down all of Sandburg’s words to see if he wanted to argue with any of it. Instead, he rubbed at his forehead, while still languishing in the receding pleasure of his genitals, and asked, in all sincerity, “How do you know all this stuff?”
Blair placed a hand on Jim’s flannel-clad chest. “It’s stuff that I’ve thrown around in the back of my mind over the years. Gradually, truths dropped into place. Especially lately, with us… you know.” The hand moved up to Jim’s face and fingers gently stroked along his cheek. Blair’s voice softened. “You’ve always had good reason for all the suppressing you did early in your life. The stoic façade helped you to survive in the face of an outwardly unloving home, and then in the military when you saw and participated in horrible things. Then as a cop. But Jim,” Blair rolled closer, partially on top of Jim and looked into his eyes. “In your private life, repression is no longer necessary. Or desirable. Squashing your pleasurable impulses is a habit now, and any instincts about survival is merely a delusion brought about by those same habits.” Blair’s finger ran along Jim’s lower lip. “I’m going to change that. I’m going to help you change the pattern, so that your own pleasure will be something that you seek out as your right, and not something you’re going to apologize for or feel guilty about.”
Jim felt a new surge of sensation in his groin, competing with the sated feeling. For distraction, he said to Blair with some amusement, “You know, if you were anybody else, this little power trip of yours would have me worried.”
“I’m not anybody else,” Blair said seriously. Then he smiled, but only for a moment. “If I let the power go to my head, you’ll be unhappy. That will be a signal that I’ve failed, and my first priority will be to make everything right, which will mean making you happy again.”
Jim searched his eyes, amazed at the confidence in Blair’s voice. “You got all of this from a meditation session?”
“Not all of it,” Blair replied. “Bits and pieces of understanding have been swirling around in my mind for a long time. But I’ve been impotent lately, as a sentinel, and I needed to heal my spirit. That’s what the meditation session helped with, and a lot of other things fell into place. The most important aspect of it, though, was the direct recognition of my purpose in this lifetime. I’m a sentinel, Jim. But I can’t fulfill my purpose without the senses that exist within your body. So, in order for me to live the life I’m meant to live, I have to have you with me. In essence, I own you. But you are of no use to my purpose if you aren’t functioning properly. For human beings, efficient functioning means happiness. Once our basic needs for food and shelter are met, happiness usually comes down to pleasure. For most men, pleasure at its most basic level comes down to sexual release and feeling good about our ability to pleasure the person we’re in bed with. You’ve got that second part down pat,” Blair grinned widely, “but you’re a long ways from being able to own the first part.” Now his smile was affectionate. “But that’s okay, because I’m going to help you with the first part.”
“You’re going to turn me into a lustful sex machine?” Jim asked doubtfully. It was a frightening thought, him being a slave to physical impulses. No control.
“I’m not going to turn you into anything,” Blair corrected. “I’m going to help you allow yourself to feel sexual pleasure on a level that you were intended for. Jim,” Blair looked deeply into his eyes, “we can get all those dials up to tens. Not just in your cock. But everywhere that feels good. Imagine me tonguing you, and your anal nerves sitting at tens.”
Jim blinked and looked away. He knew his mouth had fallen open. Blair loved Jim’s rimmings, so much. Jim loved doing that for him, and he always felt so much delight as his tongue experienced the pleasure of Blair’s nerves. He decided now that the sense of touch in his tongue must be around eight at those times. His sense of taste was a lot lower. His sense of smell, maybe about six. He did enjoy smelling places where Blair smelled most like Blair. The rimmings were so enjoyable for them both – him doing that for Blair – that he’d given little thought to a role reversal.
Now his eyes closed. God, what would it be like…?
“And when I fuck you,” Blair added.
Thick, powerful cock inside him, searing his anal walls – dialed up to ten – with pleasure. The thickness hitting his prostate, also dialed up to ten. His balls and his cock, also at tens, responding eagerly. God, he couldn’t even begin to imagine….
“I love you so very much.”
Jim opened his eyes, having felt Blair’s breath across his face. He sniffed, taking it in through smell before it vaporized in the atmosphere. Then he looked at Blair, those big, large, wise, happy eyes. Filled with love. All for him.
It gave Jim the strength for amusement. Inside, he grinned wickedly. Outwardly, he pouted, “You only love me because I’m your tool.”
Blair smacked him in the side, prompting Jim to lurch with exaggeration. “Wise ass.”
Jim chuckled.
Blair cocked his head, and apparently decided to respond to the underlying question with seriousness. “I guess I fell in love with you over a period of time. I fell in love with you for being a big brother to me. For being a firm but gentle teacher. For being the best friend I’ve ever had. But also, from the start, I was in love with you the way Frankenstein was in love with his creation.” He shook his head. “Like you’ve said before, about me, none of that you-can-do-no-wrong love I felt for you was about sex. Lately, I’ve fallen in love with you for how you can make me feel, in bed.” His eyes deepened. “I’m in love with you most, at this moment, because of what I know I can do for you. I love that you need me like that, even if you don’t really understand that you do.” He paused. “And I love you, Jim, perhaps most of all, for being a part of the good that you and I have done in the past, and the good that we have yet to do in all the years ahead.”
Jim felt his throat constrict. It eased when he turned his focus from himself to Blair. “So,” his voice was soft, “you understand now, that when I say that my senses wanted you, it doesn’t invalidate what my heart feels for you? That both are a part of me? And all the different ways I love you aren’t for picking apart, that one way is more meaningful than another?”
Blair’s mouth was closed – almost contemplative – but the corners were pulled into a smile. He had an older, wiser appearance just then. “That was a surface excuse, to explain my fears in a rational way to myself. My real fear was that I was unlovable – because I had abandoned who I was at the press conference – and eventually you’d come to realize that. And then you wouldn’t want me.”
Jim reached out to where Blair’s hand was braced against the floor. His brushed his fingertips along it. “Are we in agreement that this is a permanent thing?” he asked shyly.
A nod. “Yes, we’re in agreement.” Suddenly, the wise façade gave way, and Blair’s expression grew anxious, making him appear vulnerable. “Jim, I-I really appreciate what you’ve done for me.” He straddled Jim, leaning closer. “My life has been so uncomfortable since the press conference, and you were always so consistent, so supportive, so there, man. You were the one part of my life I could count on to not throw me any curves, when it seemed like that’s all I was getting from everyone and everything else. You helped. Whether it was convincing Simon to send me to the academy, or providing an ordinary routine here in the loft, or fielding calls from all those reporters, or being the one who stepped in whenever anyone at the PD wanted to question my motivations for being there… I appreciate it, man.” Blair’s head bowed, and Jim put his hands on his waist, wanting to soothe. When Blair looked up again, he said, “I especially appreciate that… th-that you didn’t question me, when I told you I’d only sleep with you if you took the responsibility for everything.” His head bowed again.
Jim’s comfort instincts snapped into place. He ran his hands up and down Blair’s thighs. “I understood, on some level, that you needed some space to work things out. I knew that if you weren’t responsible for anything, then you couldn’t be held accountable. And maybe that would allow us to sleep together without messing you up even more than you already were.” His hands paused, waiting until Blair’s skittish eyes met his. “I’m not sure it was the best choice. But, even now, it seems better than having you fret over whether or not you were depriving me of something, on top of everything else you were fretting over.”
Blair smiled. “It was the best,” he said softly. The hesitant smile turned into a confident grin. “But your watch is over. Now that I’m back online and fully functional, we’re going to do things my way.”
God, he did love this confidence in Blair.
Blair’s hands took Jim’s, entwining their fingers. “I love you, Jim.” He pushed until Jim’s hands were pressed back against the hardwood. “I love you so much I could practically burst.”
Jim decided he liked their humor, in the midst of their passion. “I already burst. And I think you’re sitting in it.”
“You are such a wise ass.”
“Never was, until I met you.”
Blair let that go and wriggled. “Oh, well. What are wash machines for?”
“Turn around and let me see.”
Blair’s eyes narrowed. “You aren’t getting this, are you?” he asked in a low voice that threatened danger. “You don’t give the orders anymore, Jim.”
Jim’s breath caught. Was Blair really serious about all this “I am the sentinel and you’re my big, dumb tool” stuff? Relax. It could be lots of fun. At least for a while. How strange that he had never before in his life considered giving up control. Why is this so easy? I loved taking charge of Blair in our bedroom. I loved, years ago, when I took charge of him with those handcuffs on that train. Why am I so willing to relinquish it now? Without a fight? Not even for pride’s sake?
Blair leaned close, so that Jim could feel the brush of his warm breath. “Do you know what we’re doing tonight?”
“Apparently, whatever you decide.” Jim settled on obedience for the time being.
Blair nodded. “That’s exactly right.” He grinned hugely. “I’m going to suck your cock. No more delays.”
He should have been able to figure that out, Jim realized. Oh, boy. The blood was moving along the veins and capillaries of his penis. Am I still dialed up to a one-point-five? I can feel the blood more than I used to.
Blair was serious now. “We’ll work on the dials, Jim. Take it slow and easy, so you feel safe.” Then he soothed, “You don’t have to worry about anything going wrong, because I’ll be with you. Nothing bad can happen to me or to you, just because you feel good. We’ll shoot for reaching tens, eventually. But only if you want.” He blinked. “Jim. I won’t make you do anything you’re uncomfortable doing.”
I want to please you, Jim found himself thinking. Yes, yielding was easy, because it would please Blair. Supposedly, if he obeyed and let Blair teach, he might actually reach a point where, to quote Blair, he would seek his own pleasure. Without fear. Without guilt. What will it feel like? He was intrigued, he had to admit. The little hand job he’d just enjoyed already proved that a one-point-five could feel noticeably better than a point-five.
Are these dials going to rule our bedroom? He hoped not, even if he could appreciate the results. “I love you,” he said, reaching up to stroke Blair’s hair. Am I supposed to ask for permission to touch him?
Blair smiled warmly, his eyes shining.
Guess not. My beautiful Blair. He stroked his hair again. It felt different than usual. “You showered at Megan’s?”
Blair nodded, questions in his eyes. “Uh-huh. I didn’t use shampoo, because I figured you probably wouldn’t like her strong, fragrant stuff.”
Jim’s voice remained serene as he stroked. “Did she see you naked?”
Blair rolled his eyes, shaking his head. “What is your obsession with me and Megan, man? Especially now that you know there’s no way there can ever be anything between her and me.”
“I wouldn’t be jealous,” Jim said, sincerely. “I was just wondering. You seem to have the kind of friendship where you’d be comfortable seeing each other naked.” He really wanted to answer the questions in Blair’s eyes. Scientist’s eyes now. “I guess, because I’ve never had a friendship like you have with her – with a woman – that I’m curious. I suppose you could say I want to enjoy it vicariously.”
“I walked around her place with a towel around my waist,” Blair said. “There wasn’t any reason to expose more of myself than that.”
Jim nodded. Then he pushed at Blair. “You’re getting heavy, Chief.” Am I allowed to call him Chief, since now he thinks he the boss? Except… isn’t a chief supposed to be the boss? Hmm… was this some Freudian slip of mine from all those years ago? Blair moved to one side.
Jim rose to a sitting position. He looked into the face of his Blair, sitting cross-legged. Feeling the picture wasn’t quite complete, Jim reached to the little pocket on Blair’s shirt and pulled out his glasses. He unfolded them, then placed them on Blair’s puzzled face. Jim grinned, his heart beating wonderfully in his chest. “My professor,” he said reverently, wondering why he used to think that anyone with glasses looked stupid and should get contacts.
Blair gazed back at him with the same loving expression.
“My Darwin,” Jim continued. Then, softly, “My Blair.”
Blair swallowed.
Jim asked, “So, are you a sentinel and I’m not? Or are we both sentinels? Or are we each half a sentinel, and together we make a whole sentinel?”
Blair grinned, nodding. “I wouldn’t say we’re each half; but most accurately, it’s both of us together that makes the whole. You’re the one with the senses, so you’re still, in the most technical sense, the sentinel.” He shook his head. “But your senses are nothing without me to put them to use. I may as well be the sentinel.” His grin widened. “But you can keep the title, as long as we both know the truth.”
Jim realized he was grinning, too. “Then what’s your title… just between us?”
Blair shrugged, looking bashful now, though his eyes remained on Jim’s face. “Professor works for me.” Then, hesitantly, “I’ve always really liked it when you call me Darwin.”
Jim considered that, having never known Blair’s feelings about it. “More so than Chief?”
“You call me Chief for lots of reasons, including when you’re mad at me. You even call other people Chief sometimes.” To Jim’s amazement, Blair’s eyes filled with moisture. “It’s always felt… special – and respectful – when you’ve called me Darwin. You never call me it out of habit; but because you’re consciously honoring me when you say it.”
As with so many times in all the years he’d known Blair, Jim found himself amazed at how much his partner could understand about the simplest of exchanges between two people.
As though thinking he needed to explain, Blair said, “I’ve been called lots of names in my life. You’re the first person who’s ever given me nicknames that meant something positive.”
Ouch. But there was nothing Jim could do for past pains. What he could do was focus on the beauty of the now. He bent forward, cupped Blair’s chin, removed the glasses, and planted his lips – so gently – on the right eyelid. He pressed until the moisture spilled, and then he licked it, tasting the saltiness that stung his tongue. He moved to the other one and did the same thing. When the saltiness had disappeared, he kissed the tip of Blair’s nose, then each cheek. Finally, his lips.
He pulled back, watching the face that seemed mesmerized, calculating, and soft all at the same time. “I love you.” He felt a tiny grin stretch his mouth corners. “Even if all I am is a big dumb tool.”
That produced an answering grin. Blair rose up on his knees, slid his arm around Jim’s neck, and kissed his mouth. “You’re going to love being a big dumb tool.” His voice dropped seductively. “Just please me by using your senses the way I tell you, and I’ll please you by showing you how your senses can make you feel in bed. You’re going to learn to love your senses, man.”
Jim closed his eyes as Blair’s breath wafted over his face. Automatically, his nostrils flexed to inhale it. There was something seductive about Blair. He realized that he was starting to actually believe all this crap about being sexually dysfunctional. Certainly, the hand job he’d received a little while ago held the promises of even greater pleasure to come. Except… he wasn’t sure why it mattered that he had pleasure to that degree. He thought his life was fine without it. Pleasuring Blair was what made him happiest. But I can’t give him happiness from pleasuring me, unless he’s allowed to pleasure me in return.
“I want your mouth,” Jim said. The gentle kisses had been sweet, but now he longed for the flavor of Blair’s spit.
Blair shook his head, grabbed his glasses and stood up, using Jim’s shoulder for leverage. “Uh-uh. Not right now. I’m starved. We need to eat.”
Okay, fine. I guess he’s in charge. Jim rose to his feet as Blair turned to the kitchen. Jim’s pants hung open and as he climbed the stairs, he said, “There’s a steak in there, but it’s not good because it’s rotting.”
“That wouldn’t be any good for tonight, anyway,” Blair said, opening the freezer. “We need something phallic to get the evening off to a good start.”
Jim furrowed his brow as he changed his clothes, deciding he could live with the seminal residue on his skin. He couldn’t help but notice how serious Sandburg sounded about the “phallic” thing. So, we’re going to eat phallic food because…? Oh, yeah. He’s sucking my cock tonight. Finally. Jim grinned. So, he’s going to practice on food first?
“Great,” Blair said from the kitchen. “We’ve got frozen corn dogs. I’ll nuke ‘em.”
When Jim was coming back downstairs, dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, Blair asked, “So, how’s it going with the forty grand?”
Jim was pleased that Blair was interested. He reached for dishes to set the table, noting the Blair was cooking some vegetables to go with the phallic corn dogs. “There’s over six thousand left. I think I’ve paid everything, Chief. But I thought we’d wait a couple of more weeks to make sure no surprises show up. After that, the money’s ours.” Jim suddenly realized that he should have said “yours”, but after glancing at Blair stirring the vegetables, he couldn’t tell that his young partner had any objection to mutual ownership of the money. Does that mean he’s okay now with the idea of co-mingling? Jim expelled a quiet sigh. We’ve still got lots to talk about.
Blair glanced over his shoulder at Jim. “Did I ever tell you I got a note from your father?”
“Uh-uh.”
“I sent him a thank you card, you know. Then he wrote me back a little note, telling me what a ‘fine young man’ I was and how he was happy to help. Signed it William James Ellison.”
Jim wasn’t sure why Blair was amused by the signature. He moved into the kitchen to get the silverware, pausing a moment to clasp Blair by the shoulders. “You still okay about the money?”
“Yeah,” Blair replied after a moment. Then he shrugged. “Tell you the truth, I haven’t really thought about it much. You know, it’s like I never had it.” A soft snort. “Just like, when you get financial aid at school, they show you the check just so you can sign it right over to the school. It’s like it’s never really yours.” Jim looked up just when Blair did. “Not that I mean it demeans it or anything.”
“I know,” Jim gently assured, laying out the silverware.
“It’s helped,” Blair went on, taking up the vegetables, “that you were so okay with getting your Dad involved. Since you didn’t seem to have mixed feelings about it, it made it easier for me not to have mixed feelings about it.”
“It made a strange kind of sense to me, you know,” Jim said, getting the condiments from the fridge. “After he mentioned giving it to you, it dawned on me that it seemed so just. You showed me that I had a special gift. That was the job he should have done, and he knows it. Forty grand is nothing measured against that. And he knows that, too. And that’s not even getting into how much potential income you lost, by denouncing your thesis. He knows you did that solely for me, and he was grateful.”
Blair placed the vegetables on the table, and turned to the microwave. Jim reached for his shoulder. “Chief.”
Blair paused and looked up at him.
I’m so in love with you, Jim realized… again. But that had not been what he wanted to say. “A few minutes ago, I referred to the leftover money as ours. I didn’t even think about it. Is that what we’ve got going here? An ‘our’ thing? A ‘we’ thing? An ‘us’ thing?”
Blair smiled and nodded. “Yes, Jim, we’re an ‘us’ thing. I’m not afraid of that any more.”
So sure. Jim shook his head. “I think you do need to teach me your meditation techniques sometime.” Is that really all that it took to make this huge change in him?
“It’s all more complicated than that,” Blair assured. “But I can’t imagine that meditation wouldn’t be useful for you.”
Jim took his hand back so Blair could get the corn dogs. “Useful for me, even though I’m just a big dumb tool?” You know I’m going to get you for that, Chief.
“You can be as dumb as you want to be,” Blair said while facing the microwave, not rising to the bait. “Seriously,” he turned around with a corn dog in each hand, “you’ve always been pretty stupid where your senses are concerned. It used to piss me off,” he reminded as he brought the food to the table, “but now I understand that you have no choice but to be stupid about them, without me to show you how to use them. Or even to use them.”
They sat down. Jim couldn’t help but recall the many times Blair had growled, “Use your senses, man”, as a reminder that Jim had the tools for finding out something that other people couldn’t. Or, all the times when Blair wanted him to do something complicated – such as pick out a particular smell in a room full of fragrances – and Jim had said, “No, I can’t, it’s too difficult.” And Blair would insist, “Yes, you can. Focus.” Blair was always right, and Jim always could.
Blair had also been right, a little while ago, when he’d pointed out that those situations hadn’t arisen much in the past year or so, because Blair hadn’t challenged Jim to uses his senses to the best of his ability. They’d just used them for the most basic, second-nature, simple things.
So, now, Jim pondered, taking a bite out of his corn dog, it’s going to be like old times, where he keeps at me, making me try harder? That wasn’t exactly a pleasant thought. Except… there will be the nights where he’s promised me that I’ll learn how to make my senses work for my pleasure, so much so that I won’t mind pleasing him when he tells me to use them during the day. He still found it hard to believe that physical gratification was going to matter all that much.
Holy shit! Jim’s groin surged with blood. He’d just looked at Blair, upon coming out of his thoughts, and the professor – my Darwin – had eaten the breading off the top half of the corn dog, and was now snaking out his tongue and licking at the end of the meat. He glanced at Jim through lowered lashes.
Jim dialed down, cooling the fires in his groin. “I’m dialing down,” he announced defiantly, proud of himself for not lecturing about bad manners at the dinner table.
Blair now mouthed the end of the hot dog, drooling upon it. Then he said, “Go ahead. I’m just practicing a little rite to prepare for tonight.”
Jeezus Christ. He was dialed down to zero, but his groin still wanted to surge.
The phone rang.
Thank God. Jim looked around for the cordless phone.
“Let the machine pick up,” Blair commanded. He’d put his uneaten hot dog down and now picked up a fork for his vegetables.
Jim also focused on his vegetables while waiting for the beep.
“Hey, Detective Sandburg? This is Tommy Sanchez. You told me to let you know when you could come out and see Legend’s Lair. Well, I’ve been working with him for a couple of weeks now, and he’s picked back up on his training like I’d never left for vacation.” The voice beamed with pride. “So, let me know when you want to come out, and I’ll put him through some moves for you – maybe hit a few balls with some other players on the team. 555-6262.”
“We need to go out there,” Blair said.
“We?” Jim questioned. “Need?”
Blair nodded. “Uh-huh. Tommy’s our only connection to the Carter murder case, which is dead cold. Maybe if we both go out and watch him mingle with Legend’s Lair,” Blair shrugged, “it’s a longshot, I guess, but you never know when he might up and say something that somehow gives us another lead.”
“You don’t think he’s involved, do you?” Jim asked.
“No, not since we talked to him that first time. But then, I can’t really see Melinda involved, either. But somebody knows who murdered Alan Carter. For that matter, it might not hurt for us to go through the file again, from day one. Maybe looking at it with a fresh eye…,” he shrugged.
“Yeah,” Jim agreed reluctantly, “it might not hurt.” He hated unsolved cases, especially unsolved murder cases where the victim seemed completely innocent of any wrong-doing.
The phone rang again. Both men ate their vegetables until it beeped.
“Jim, Blair, this is Simon.” He sounded grim.
Jim once again looked around for the phone, but couldn’t locate it.
Simon continued, “We’ve got a triple murder at 11182 Basin Road, and we’re going to need all the help we can get to figure this one out. So, get your butts over here as soon as you get this message.”
Blair was up and grabbing the leftover vegetables from the table. “I think I saw the phone in the bathroom earlier today,” he said.
Jim went in to retrieve it. He called Simon and said he and Blair would be there within twenty minutes.
“Three white males, all in their early twenties,” Simon informed them as they emerged from the truck. In the night around them, other police officials milled about the scene. “It looks like they were all shot in the body initially, then each took a bullet to the back of the head, as though for good measure. They’re all lying face down.”
“Execution style?” Jim asked, as they ducked under the yellow tape. His senses were already picking up the scents of blood, gunfire, and death.
“No. At least, they weren’t laid out in a row. And they weren’t restrained in any way.”
Jim felt Blair’s hand on his arm as they entered the house. The bodies were still on the living room floor, presumably where they’d fallen. Dan Wolfe stood up from the nearest body to greet them. “All fraternity men, according to the IDs.”
“Rainier?” Blair asked.
Wolfe nodded.
Gently, Jim asked, “Do you recognize any of them?”
Blair donned latex gloves and knelt by the nearest body and turned the face toward him to get a better look. He shook his head.
Jim shadowed his partner as he went to the next body. This was his professional Blair, now accustomed to seeing dead bodies after being so timid in the early years. Innocence lost, he thought. He watched Blair study the face of the second victim. “This is pretty far from campus, Chief. Any idea what they might have been doing out here?”
Blair shook his head. “Could be anything. A formal meeting. An informal meeting. Drugs. A study group. Meeting girls.” He looked up at Simon as he moved to the third victim. “Do we know who owns this house?”
“We’ve got a call into the zoning office, but we won’t hear back until morning.”
Jim glanced around as he pulled latex onto his hands. It was a small two-story house, located on a woodsy half acre, but it was pretty modern and well kept.
“I know this one,” Blair said.
Jim knelt down as his partner explained, “He was in my Anthro 101 a few years back. I don’t remember much about him, but I’m sure I’d heard that he was gay.” He shrugged. “Just one of those little details that stick in your mind about a person.”
Jim glanced around at the other men who, like this one, were clean cut and good looking. “Wonder if they all were,” he muttered.
“A gay bashing?” Simon asked.
“It’s a place to start,” Jim said. “It might explain why they were so far from campus, if they were meeting here for sex and wanted to be sure of privacy.” He nodded toward the second victim, who was now being placed into a body bag. “His shirt is halfway undone. Maybe they were just getting started.”
“It’s possible,” Blair said, “but Rainier isn’t exactly a place that’s had any gay bashing incidents. It’s even more tolerant than your average college campus. I’m not sure why some students would feel the need to come all the way out here just for sex.” His voice dropped, sentinel-soft. “Dial up your sense of smell and see if you can detect any evidence of sex or arousal.”
Jim obeyed, taking in the scents and blanking his mind, so that emotion wouldn’t enter.
“None of their wallets has cash,” Simon said, holding them with gloved hands. “But the credit cards are all here.”
Blair said, “It’s unlikely someone would have gone to this extreme just to steal some cash. I doubt robbery was the motivation.”
Through the corner of his eye, Jim saw Simon nod agreement. At his side, Blair whispered, “Anything?”
Jim nodded, getting up to follow the scent to the nearest bedroom, which was dark. He stopped at the trashcan. “Old semen.”
Blair reached in and picked up a condom. Gently, he prompted, “Can you separate out anything else. Feces or vaginal secretions? Saliva?”
Jim took it and sniffed deliberately, resisting the urge to gag. “Feces. Can’t you smell it?”
Blair shined a flashlight on it. “Don’t need to. I can see the brown streaks.”
“What have you got?” Simon asked as he entered, flipping on the overhead light. “Won’t that help?”
Blair replied, “Condoms used for anal intercourse.”
“Fresh?”
“No.”
“Bag them and get to the other rooms and see what you find there. So far, your first hunch looks like a logical one to start with. Good job.”
They found more used condoms in an upstairs bedroom. After bagging them, Jim stood and sniffed some more. “Do you smell that?”
“What?” Blair asked.
Jim’s nose stung. “Really strong cologne or something.” He moved down the hall to the bathroom, Blair following. He picked up various bottles of fragrances and sniffed. “None of these are what I smelled in the room.”
“Let’s check the downstairs bathroom,” Blair said.
The three bodies had been removed, and the other investigators were finishing up. Simon was no longer in the house.
They found the bathroom, which only had one type of cologne. Jim shook his head as he wrinkled his nose. “That’s not it, either.”
“So, we’ve got someone who got himself all spiffed up and came here.”
“This house doesn’t look like anyone actually lives here,” Jim reminded. “Maybe they just stay overnight at times, or something. So, potentially, all three of them could have gotten spiffed up before coming here.”
“But it’s unlikely they all used the same cologne,” Blair pointed out. “So, one of them had an application much stronger than the others. Jim,” Blair said, leading him back into the living room, “can you smell that fragrance here?”
Jim flexed his nostrils, grimacing at the scents of blood and death that still lingered.
“Close your eyes,” Blair directed softly, “and focus just on that smell. Tune out all the other odors.”
Maybe I’m imaging it, Jim thought, as he caught a whiff. No, he knew better than that. He glanced at Blair, nodding. “It’s here. Not near as strong as upstairs though.”
“You about done here?” Simon asked as he came back in.
Blair said, “Jim picked up a heavy cologne smell upstairs, one that’s not from any of the bottles in the bathrooms. He can smell it a little down here, too.”
“What do you think it means?” Simon asked, inserting an unlit cigar into his mouth.
Jim went with his first hunch. “The killer carries his own. Perhaps, after the murders, he went upstairs – perhaps to change clothes? – and put on cologne? So, when he left here, he would smell fresh and not like he’d just committed a triple murder?”
“But why bother going upstairs?” Blair wondered. “And, if he changed clothes, he was smart enough to take the old ones with him.”
“Maybe,” Simon said, “he changed upstairs to decrease the risk of leaving any evidence on the same floor as the murders.”
Jim glanced at Blair and found the other looking at him, obviously thinking the same thought he was. “Back upstairs,” they said in unison.
They flipped the light switch and went back in the bedroom.
“Look at the carpet,” Blair directed.
Jim focused on the thick nap. There was dust and dirt… a spider. “Hasn’t been vacuumed in a while,” he muttered. His eyes studied the nap, inch-by-inch, and he was relieved when he felt Sandburg’s fingers close on his arm, giving him something else to focus on. As he moved toward the bed, he spotted lint. “There’s a lot of different fibers, all around here,” he pointed.
“Any way to tell what’s more recent?” Blair prompted.
“Most of them are light and ground into the rug.” Jim knelt and lifted up the bedspread. His night vision kicked in and he studied the dust-covered carpet. Then he saw it. “Hand me tweezers and a bag.”
Blair knelt beside him. “What have you got?”
“Black fiber, on top of the dust, near the edge of the bed.”
Simon said, “It could have been there for ages. It wouldn’t get pressed into the carpet, being under the bed.”
“Still, it’s something,” Blair defended. “And on top of the dust means it’s more recent than the dust.”
Jim handed Blair the bag with the fiber in it, and stayed on his knees, scanning more of the carpet. When he didn’t find anything, he moved around to the other side of the bed and saw there was only a narrow space between it and the wall. Eventually, he shook his head. “Nothing.”
Blair pulled him to his feet. “Look at the furniture, Jim.”
Jim was directed toward a small desk. It had the usual pencil holders and other accessories.
Blair prompted, “Is there any evidence that anyone was in here today?”
Jim furrowed his brow when he thought he saw the impression of something. “Get the light,” he said.
The overhead light went off.
Jim focused on the surface of the desk top, without having to worry about glare from the shiny, lacquered surface. He mentally outlined where the microscopic layer of dust was disturbed. He reached out his hand and let it hover over the desk. “There was some large… object sitting here. Something without clear geometric lines. Like a backpack. I can tell from how the dust is disturbed.”
Simon took out his phone, sighing. “Something as vague as that will never stand up in court. But we need to see if we can get any prints from this room.”
Jim was guided to the bureau. “What about here?” Blair prompted.
He studied the top of the dresser and couldn’t detect anything.
“Look in the drawers,” Blair directed.
Gingerly, so as not to smudge any possible prints, Jim opened the top drawer. There were a couple of pairs of briefs. He went to the next drawer and saw socks, mostly dark. His eyes honed in. He held out his hand. “Let me see that fiber.”
Blair gave him the evidence bag.
Jim studied the black filament, then looked back in the sock drawer. He picked up one of the pairs of socks. “I think this is a match. I’ll bet this fiber is from this same brand of sock.”
Simon stepped forward, his voice puzzled. “So, if the perp came up here and changed clothes, he changed into clothes that were already here?”
Blair said, “Or they were his to begin with.”
Simon shook his head as Jim opened the next drawer, which was empty. “That’s too ballsy, committing murder here, if the killer stayed here, even occasionally. But,” he muttered, “it would explain why there’s no evidence of the victims putting up a fight. From what we can tell so far, they weren’t expecting any danger. It’s like they were taken by complete surprise.”
Simon sighed, as the bottom drawer was also empty. “Underwear and socks and that’s it, huh?” He patted Jim’s arm. “You’re on a roll, Jim. Let’s put the rest of the rooms through this.”
They were exhausted when they finally got home near dawn with orders to sleep for a few hours while the coroner and forensics did their tasks. Blair had other plans and livened them up with a mutual shower and kissing and cuddling in bed, which gradually got more provocative. He relished his new freedom in pushing Jim back on the mattress and working him over. Between licks of a massive pectoral, he muttered, “You’ve got such great muscles, it’s almost like you have tits.”
“How flattering,” Jim said with a chuckle, then immediately stifled himself with an appreciative, “Mmm.”
Blair licked lavishly over the little nub, delighting in the way it hardened. Since Jim had pretty much stayed away from his own little paps, he supposed that Jim wasn’t used to receiving attention there. He clamped his lips on it and started to suckle.
A hand grasped the back of his head. “Oh, God,” Jim said, with even greater appreciation.
“Dial up, sweetheart,” Blair beckoned. “I’m just practicing for the main event.” He pointed to the little pink protrusion. “Go up to three there and see what happens.” His lips returned, and he nursed happily… and noisily.
The hand at the back of his head pressed more firmly and Jim groaned.
Good baby, good baby, Blair chanted silently, since his mouth was so deliciously occupied. All that musculature was squirming beneath him. Jim, you’re gonna be so much fun, man.
Blair released the tiny nipple with a loud smack, and moved to the other. There, he licked across it with long, deliberate strokes. Jim arched his back, and Blair felt strong arms coming around him, trying not to squeeze so Blair wouldn’t be encumbered. Blair replaced tongue with teeth and just barely applied pressure.
Jim groaned achingly and trembled all over.
Blair looked up at Jim’s eager expression. He took both nipples in hand and gently squeezed, with alternating pressure. He watched Jim groan some more. “I’m going to take good care of you,” he vowed, then softened his voice to a whisper. “Making you feel good is going to my ongoing, bedtime assignment. I intend to get an A.”
Blair released the nipples and ran his hands up Jim’s face, into his hair. There, he grabbed at the short strands, giving gentle pulls. He felt the hardness lower down, which was even firmer than his own.
“All right, my sentinel,” he whispered, straightening and moving aside. “I need you to get on your knees facing me.”
As Jim obeyed, Blair shifted to sit with his back to the headboard. He directed the strong legs to settle on either side of him. He glanced at the swaying genitals before him, then tilted his head back to catch Jim’s narrowed eyes. “You’re beautifully created, Jim. I’m serious. I have a theory about how the genetic advantage of your senses translates into superior physique.” He stroked slowly along the firm thighs. “Your private parts,” he lowered his gaze to the erection pointing at him, “are very beautiful.”
Jim’s voice was dry and gruff with arousal. “Just how many male privates have you seen, Sandburg?”
Blair grinned and looked back up at him. “I don’t need to have seen many to know that yours are special.” And so deprived. Blair swallowed thickly. “Jim,” he whispered, “talk to me while I love you, sweetheart. Tell me how to make it the best it can be. Correct me when I’m being less than perfect.” He didn’t wait for agreement; he knew that Jim was too tenderhearted, and had too little interest in his own pleasure, to outright tell Blair he was doing something wrong. But hopefully he might mention something or two that Blair could translate into improvement, and Jim would grow more confident about asking for what he wanted.
Blair’s left hand gently took the firm shaft. Jim’s breath quickened and his legs quivered, his hand reaching for the headboard.
Blair stroked the underside with his thumb. “Dial up here, sweetheart. Just a notch. There’s nothing wrong with feeling how good it is.” He gripped the shaft and stroked.
A hand settled onto the top of Blair’s head. Touched, he reached out with his right hand and gently cupped the well-shaped scrotum. He tilted his head back again. “When you dial up in your cock, do you feel the increased sensation just there? Or in the general vicinity?”
“All down there,” Jim gasped in reply. “The male organs. Inside and out.”
The whole genital system, Blair thought. Jim’s other four senses were all tied to a specific body part – eyes, ears, nose, and tongue. But touch was trickier, because it could conceivably encompass every millimeter of skin at once, as had happened to Alex when she wrecked her car. Jim, however, had demonstrated that he could focus on one part of his epidermis – such as his fingertips – and dial up the nerves there, without affecting the other tactile nerves in his body. Blair wondered just how specific Jim’s sense of touch could be, if he focused.
However, any such experiments were for another time, away from the bedroom. Blair let his mouth water, then he leaned forward and closed his eyes. He let his lips touch the tip of the soft skin as their flesh greeted each other, tasting the bead of residue at the tip. The flavor was sharp and tangy, though it was Jim who lurched, and Blair accepted more of Jim into his mouth. He ran tongue along the underside and squeezed gently with his right hand.
Jim’s other hand touched Blair’s head, then grabbed at his hair. Both hands now stroked in a frantic, yet exceedingly gentle, circular motion, threatening to mess up his hair. The phallus in Blair’s mouth already seemed a lot thicker than a moment ago, and Blair realized to his disappointment that he wasn’t going to be able to orally grasp the whole thing. He gently sucked, trying to be careful with his teeth, and let his left hand drift beneath the shaft, the scrotum, and press up against Jim’s perineum.
Jim’s legs spread a fraction. He hadn’t made any noise, but the sound of his breathing was more intense, the hands in Blair’s hair trembling.
Blair took a moment to relax his jaw muscles and explore the upper portion of the shaft with his tongue. He rolled Jim around in his mouth, as best he could, enjoying the texture, the sense of power. His index finger emerged from his left hand and was able to just feel back to where the depression began between Jim’s buttocks.
Jim made a noise of surprise and shifted awkwardly.
Blair pulled back, moving his right hand from scrotum to shaft in compensation. He looked up. “Will you let me play with your asshole? Just the outside?”
Jim quickly nodded, relieving Blair’s concern that Jim really didn’t want to be touched back there.
Still stroking soothingly with his right hand, Blair reached to the nightstand on the left and felt around the top drawer until he found a well-worn tube. He finally had to let go to squeeze a small amount of KY onto his left index finger. “Just a little lubrication so it can move around easily,” he assured, tossing the tube aside. He took Jim’s shaft again, then tilted his head back. He smiled at the waiting expression. “I’m just playing around, Jim. Enjoying myself. When you need me to get serious, just say the word, and I’ll do what I can.” He didn’t get a response, so he enticed, “Do you want to dial up some more?”
Jim swallowed, but didn’t say anything, and Blair decided that his sentinel wasn’t very capable of making decisions right now. So he instructed, “Feel free to dial up. But just tell me if you do, so I know what’s going on.” Impatient for no further interruptions, Blair occupied his mouth again with the shaft that swelled on contact. He let saliva build, and then wetly mouthed the taut organ. His right hand gripped the scrotal pouch – what interesting texture, gripping someone else’s – and his left finger sought the depression. When he found it, he felt around the wrinkled skin, pressing tentatively.
Hands gripped Blair’s hair. “I can taste your spit through my cock,” Jim gasped.
Oh, wow! Blair laved the shaft some more, but the scientist in him couldn’t let the discovery go by. He pulled back and looked up into Jim’s shuttered face. “You mean you’re piggybacking taste onto touch?”
“I didn’t do it,” Jim explained breathlessly. “It just happened.” He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head, as though in pain. “It’s not quite the same, but….”
Blair quickly returned to his task, liberally laving the shaft with saliva. Not as good as tasting me directly, but still good enough to notice. He had to have initiated it though, even if subconsciously.
One of Jim’s hands slid to Blair’s hair, cupping his head, holding him steady. The other drifted down, with the gentle touch of fingertips, to Blair’s cheek, then to his chin. It ended up at his throat, feeling along the movement there.
“I need to come, baby.” Quiet words.
Blair wrapped his lips more carefully around his teeth, and began to suck. Power trip, man. He bobbed his head back and forth. He squeezed Jim’s scrotum more deliberately, and nudged Jim’s opening with his exploring finger. Jim stroked the back of his head faster, and pressed against his throat; then he quickly eased up, so Blair could swallow freely. A rumbling noise began building in the bed.
Blair shivered. Made agreeable noises. I like doing this for you. And for me.
The rumbling turned into a bellow. The hand on Blair’s head stroked faster. The one at his throat moved up to his chin and gripped, as though to hold him steady. Jim’s hips jerked, and Blair felt flesh take up all the available space in his mouth. He gagged.
Jim moved back, almost withdrawing completely; then he suddenly cried out. Creamy liquid filled the front of Blair’s mouth. He choked in reaction to having gagged, and tasted the bitterness of the fluid, while some of his seeped out of the corners of his mouth and dripped off the edge of his lower lip.
In swallowing, his lips closed around Jim’s cock-head, and Jim abruptly pulled back with a gasp. He fell to a sitting position, poised over Blair, head bowed, gasping for breath.
Blair couldn’t restrain another cough. Rather than trying to clear his throat, he swallowed a mouthful of semen, amazed again at Jim’s quantity. Then he coughed freely a couple of times.
Jim rubbed at his back. “You all right?” he asked, still breathless.
Blair leaned on an elbow and nodded emphatically. “Fine.”
Jim shook his head. “I won’t do that again.”
Blair knew he meant the final lunge. “We just weren’t coordinated.” He smiled reassuringly. “We need more practice.” He licked at the semen around the outside of his mouth.
Jim rubbed Blair’s cheek with the back of his hand. Bashfully, he said, “I dialed up a little more at the last moment.”
And thus the lunge probably. He wasn’t prepared for the increased sensation, and neither was I. Blair nodded, showing his approval. “I’m proud of you, Jim. I’m proud of you for allowing yourself to feel.” He’d expected Jim to fight him for quite a while regarding blatant physical pleasure, and Blair had thought he would have to wear Jim down over time. But he might even be wanting it, just a little bit, already.
Blair noticed Jim’s gaze on his tongue as he continued to clean his mouth. Jim’s expression was a familiar one, and Blair felt his groin throb with renewed interest. He reached out and squeezed Jim’s arm. “All right, sweetheart, you swab me all you want.” Ought to taste all the more special with both our flavors. Blair glanced behind him and started to lie back. “The thorough cleansing. Just give me a nice hand job while you’re at it.” He glanced at the clock. Damn. “And then maybe we’ll both be able to actually sleep for a couple of hours.” He spread his legs and closed his eyes.
He sensed Jim moving to one side. A moment later, his cock was lovingly gripped, and his mouth was claimed by an eager tongue.
Simon pulled the stack of stuff from the file drawer and set it on his desk. While he stood there brushing the dust off his hands, his office door opened.
Ellison frowned and wrinkled his nose. “What’s all this?”
“Office cleaning time,” Simon replied, noting the 5x7 framed photo at the top of the stack. “Rhonda refused to do any further filing until I cleaned out all my unnecessary personal items and took them home.”
Jim came toward Simon’s desk. “Still waiting, huh?”
Simon nodded, knowing Jim was just making small talk. The warrant for the arrest of one Edward Poulton was still being drawn up. All the evidence from the house pointed to Rainier student Poulton as being responsible for the murder of his fellow frat brothers. If it weren’t for Jim’s immediate, outstanding contribution – and sentinel abilities – the chances of having a warrant within four days of the crime would have been highly unlikely.
Simon picked up the picture frame and held it out. “Look what I found.”
Jim accepted it and shook his head. Gazing at it, he said, “Would you believe that I wasn’t even nervous that day?”
That was a surprise. Simon could remember being literally nauseous on his own wedding day.
“Guess that should have told me something, huh?” Jim was still gazing at the photo. He tapped the image of Carolyn. Subdued, he said, “I thought I wanted this.” He glanced out at the bullpen, where Blair was working at his desk. “And it turns out that I needed that.” After a long moment, he looked back at Simon and laid the frame on his desk.
Simon shrugged, unsure of what to say. “Who would have thunk it?” Then he grinned as he sat down, deciding to take a break and enjoy a cigar. “I’ve noticed that you and Sandburg both are smiling these days.”
Jim’s smile was contagious as he sat opposite Simon’s desk.
Simon pulled the cigar from his mouth and said, “Others have noticed it, too. I’m sure you’ve heard them talking.”
Jim almost seemed to glow as he looked back out to the bullpen. “It’s good to have the old, enthusiastic Sandburg back, isn’t?”
“He’s not exactly the same,” Simon pointed out, as he’d already thought about this. He waited until he had Jim’s attention again. “A more mature version of the old Sandburg.” Since Jim was in a good mood, Simon probed, “He must have worked out some of his problems about your relationship.”
A rare, full-blown smile answered Simon. “Yeah, well, he…,” A shrug. Then, “I guess you’ll have to ask him.”
Simon chuckled at his senior detective’s difficulty with finding the words. He teased, “If I did, would he give me a bunch of new age mumbo jumbo psychobabble?”
“Probably. To say nothing of, once you ask him the question, you might never get him to stop.”
Simon grimaced. “That’s nothing new.” He enjoyed it when Jim laughed with him, realizing that, in some ways, Jim was the best friend he’d ever had. He looked away, gnawing at the cigar, as a cloud of warmth wafted through him.
Jim reached out and grabbed an Oreo from the package on the edge of Simon’s desk. “You want the traditional, conservative version?”
Simon stroked his cigar. “Sure."
Jim’s gaze shifted away as he thought for a long moment. Then he said, “I think Sandburg finally forgave himself for everything he destroyed with the press conference. So, now he feels lovable again.” He bit into the cookie.
Simon blanched. That sounded serious. “I didn’t realize he was having such a tough time, all this time he’s been a cop.”
“Nobody did,” Jim assured. “Least of all himself.” He put the cookie down, and Simon had a silent chuckle at the thought of stale cookies on sentinel-sensitive taste buds.
“It doesn’t matter now,” Simon said, “but I wish I would have realized it. I’d like to think that I could have done something to help.”
“Me, too. But…,” Jim trailed off. Then he shifted his weight in his chair. “I just thought he was going through a natural maturing and aging process. You know, lose your youthful enthusiasm and all your dreams. And begin the long, unglamorous road to being an old fart.”
Simon laughed. “Heh, heh. I guess it’s kind of nice to think that life doesn’t have to be that way.” He looked at Jim, wondering if the seriousness of his next statement would sound teasing – or a little too truthful. “Too bad we didn’t know that, huh?”
Jim’s expression became smug. “Speak for yourself. As far as I’m concerned, life begins at forty.”
Simon growled, hoping he wouldn’t look back on this moment and decide that his feelings had been hurt, that he felt odd man out. He grumbled, “That’s easy to say when you’ve got an eager, enthusiastic, young thing in your bed.”
Jim laughed. When he sobered, he said, “You know, Simon, you’re still relatively young. Good-looking. Have a reputable job. Probably make a halfway decent salary by now. I’ll bet the biggest problem you have with attracting women is the aroma the cigars give you.”
Simon frowned, a protest on his tongue. Then he remembered that Jim was a sentinel. “You’ve heard women say that about me?”
Jim held up a hand to halt further questions. “All I’m saying is that most non-smokers find it difficult to be attracted to people who smoke – because of the smell, if for no other reason.” His voice firmed. “If health reasons aren’t enough to make you stop, then maybe a potential rejuvenated love life is.”
Simon grunted, desperate for a change of subject. He glanced at the filing cabinets, thinking that if he got back to work, then Ellison would get the hell out of his office.
“Simon?”
Simon looked back at Jim, who had scooted his chair closer and had spoken in a more intimate tone. “What?”
Jim reached forward and thumbed absently through the corners of papers resting there. “You know, it’s because of Sandburg that we’re making this bust today.”
Simon furrowed his brow. “What do you mean? You were there, too, as well as lots of other forensics officials. Hell, Jim, it was your senses that gave us all the breaks. You know that.”
“Simon, when my senses are that helpful, it’s because of Sandburg. I have the senses. But he’s the one who uses them.”
Simon considered. “I think I know what you mean by that, but I’ve seen you use your senses before without Blair around.”
“Yes, I can use them,” Jim said, “but I can rarely figure out how to use them.” Jim shifted and began to gesture with his hands. “See, when I’m at a scene and using my senses, all I can focus on is what the sensory input is telling me. I can smell whiskey and think, ‘Okay, this victim had been drinking. So there might be a bottle around.’ And I look for a bottle. If I find it, then we might get some fingerprints. And maybe we can figure out where the bottle was purchased. But that’s all I can do – be linear about it. I can’t think outside the box while at the same time processing incoming sensory information. Sensory input is real; thinking outside the box is abstract. It takes Sandburg to think in terms of the abstract, to get me out of the box. He can say, ‘Go to the parking lot over there and see if you can smell that whisky around any of the cars.’ I wouldn’t have thought of that. Or, I might get lucky and wander through the parking lot just to see if I notice anything, and then smell whisky and put two and two together. But that would have been luck. With Sandburg, it’s deliberate, methodical and good police work.”
Simon wondered why Jim was so determined to make Sandburg the center of everything. “I agree, Jim. But, still, I’ve seen you in some tight spots without Sandburg and still using your senses to stop a murder or rescue someone.”
“That’s instinct,” Jim said. “I can do instinct.” He glanced at the door. “If a perp walked in here right now with a gun, the cop in me would go for my weapon, and the sentinel in me would aim right at the barrel of the gun so I could shoot it out of his hand. When I’m protecting the tribe, my instincts kick in and I don’t need Sandburg for that. In fact, that’s how I shot that innocent security guard a few years ago – I was acting solely on instinct. But think about that house, Simon, where those three murders were. The victims were already dead. The perp wasn’t there. So, there wasn’t any threat to any of us who were going through the house. In a situation like that, I’m not in ‘protect’ mode, and my sentinel instincts are only operating on a minimal level. It took Sandburg to show me all the different ways I could use my senses.”
Simon wondered why Ellison was spelling this out. “This really isn’t anything new, Jim. You and Sandburg have always been a great team.”
“I know,” Jim nodded impatiently. “But we were still learning in the early years. Now, Sandburg understands it in a way that he hasn’t before. The way he explained it to me was – “ Ellison cut a quick slice through the air with his right hand. “A man is a human being, complete within himself.” He repeated the motion with his left hand. “A woman is a human being, complete within herself.” Pause. “But if they want to make a baby, they have to join together.” He pushed his open hands together. “That’s the only way they can create that child.”
“I’m familiar with the concept,” Simon reminded with a grumble.
Jim’s hands went to his lap. “With Sandburg and me, it’s the same way. My senses can’t come into being – as a detective tool – unless it’s the two of us together. Me expanding my senses and receiving the input; and him directing me on which ones to use, where to use them, when to use them, how to use them. He’s actually the one operating my senses. He’s at the controls.”
Simon couldn’t quite grasp how Jim could be so serious about all this. “And I suppose he’s the one who explained this all to you.”
“Yes. The way he puts it, I’m stupid when it comes to my senses. I don’t know what to do with them beyond the one-dimensional, or beyond the instinctive reaction.” He shrugged. “He’s right.”
Simon controlled the impulse to roll his eyes. How can he possibly speak so calmly and seriously about being called “stupid”? Sandburg has got Jim so completely wrapped around his little finger…. Simon let a sigh escape. Or wrapped around something.
Jim leaned forward. “The reason I’m telling you this, Simon, is so that you’ll understand that it’s almost useless to send me alone to a crime scene, just so I can go over it and ‘assist’.”
Simon held in a grin at the emphasis. Telling Jim to “assist” another team, such as Henri and Rafe, was code for “use your hyperactive senses and see if you can come up with anything.”
“If I assist, then so does Sandburg. Otherwise, I’ll be operating on a kindergarten level, when I could be operating on a Ph.D. level.”
“All right, Jim,” Simon soothed. “I hear you.” What choice did he have? When it came to Jim’s senses, he had to trust Jim’s word, which meant he had to trust whatever Sandburg told Jim. He was still tempted to caution Jim about automatically deferring to everything Sandburg said, but he knew it would fall on deaf years. Logic can’t compete with affairs of the heart. He tilted his head, mentally drumming up an image of Jim and Blair together. He was surprised at the effort it took for even a momentary fantasy. He gestured with the cigar. “You know, Jim, I haven’t even seen you two kiss.”
“Why would you?”
Simon shrugged. “I go out to lunch with you sometimes. See you in the garage after a late shift, when it’s pretty deserted. It’s not like I’m going to be offended.”
Jim shook his head, mouth twisted into a thoughtful frown. “We don’t really think about it, I guess. We save it for home.” He glanced away, mumbling, “Our bedroom, I guess.”
That means they don’t kiss at home, except in bed? Simon wondered with puzzlement. Somehow, it gave him comfort to think that his prize team wasn’t going at it like rabbits. But those smiles they both wore….
Jim’s head tilted, then he grinned at Simon. “He’s wondering why I’ve been in here so long.”
Simon looked out the open blinds and saw Sandburg gazing at Jim, his mouth moving as though he were muttering something.
Jim also looked out the blinds, holding up a pair of fingers.
Two minutes. Jim and I have two minutes left to talk, because Blair wants him back. As though Sandburg owns the damn place. It did rankle a bit.
When Jim again was looking at him, Simon grumbled, “I guess this conversation is over. I wouldn’t want to get in the way of his authority.”
Jim frowned. “Come on, Simon. He’s not challenging your authority. I said two minutes because I didn’t have anything more to add, and I’m the one who came to see you.”
Oh, yeah. Well, maybe an aging police captain who stunk like cigars could be forgiven a moment of self-pity.
Simon recognized a uniform through the window just as a knock sounded on the door. He grinned, his self-pity gone. “That’s our warrant.”
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