Archive of Our Own ^beta

Author's website: http://spikedluv.net
Jim and Blair belong to me. *shifty eyes* What do you mean, they don't belong to me?!!
Written July 27, 2006 for Harlequin Style's Mistaken Identity Challenge. Also for AU100 prompts: Strangers, Enemies, and Friends.
Spoilers for the entire series, to be safe.
This story is a sequel to:

STRANGERS

Jim opened his hotel room door to find a young man with long curly brown hair that was pulled back into a ponytail, instead of the room service he'd ordered. The kid was wearing a soft green and blue plaid flannel shirt that had seen better days and a pair of tight blue jeans. A blue t-shirt peeked out of the one undone button at his neck, and above that, a tempting thatch of chest hair. Not exactly what he'd been expecting from an agency that claimed to offer men who'd take your breath away, until he smiled and it lit up gorgeous blue eyes.

"Hi," the kid said, lifting his hand in a little wave, then reaching up to play with the silver hoops in his left ear.

The nervous gesture drew Jim's attention to the graceful line of his neck and the stirring in his groin made him forget to ream the kid out for being almost an hour early.

"I'm Blair Sandburg...."

"No talking," Jim said as he reached out and drew Sandburg into the room, remembering at the last minute to slip the 'do not disturb' sign over the handle before shutting the door.

"What?"

"I requested 'no talking'," Jim said, then reached behind Sandburg's head to pull the elastic band free.

Sandburg gave a nervous laugh. "Wow, man, don't you think we're moving a little fast here?"

Jim buried his hand in the thick curls and used his grip in Sandburg's hair to tilt his head back. "What part of 'no talking' don't you understand, Sandburg?" he asked, frustrated, though not enough to send the kid away. When Sandburg's mouth opened again, Jim shut him up the only way he could think of.

Sandburg froze when Jim's lips touched his, but his lips opened easily under the gentle pressure of Jim's tongue. When their tongues met, Sandburg moaned into Jim's mouth, and Jim felt his entire body simultaneously relax and come to attention.

By the time Jim raised his head so they could both breathe, he'd thoroughly mapped the inside of Sandburg's mouth, and Sandburg was pressed up against him, his hands resting on Jim's hips. Yet somehow, the kid was still able to talk.

"Oh, man, Jim, that was amazing. Really, I.... But don't you think we should talk first, get to know each other a little bit before we jump right into the...?"

"Sandburg, just what do I have to shove into your mouth to shut you up?"

Jim might have thought that the red flush covering Sandburg's skin was from anger or embarrassment if he hadn't been able to smell his arousal. The potent scent went straight to Jim's groin, increasing his own already raging desire.

"Well, well," Jim said, as he maneuvered Sandburg back against the door, "isn't that interesting. But it'll have to wait, because first...." Jim ran his hand over Sandburg's shoulder and down his arm, around to his lower back, then cupped his ass and squeezed. "First I'm going to fuck you."

Jim wasn't sure whether the shiver was due to the words whispered directly into Sandburg's ear, or the hand on his ass, but he knew that the little whimper he got was from pressing a teasing finger between Sandburg's cheeks, rubbing his crack through the denim.

"Like that idea, do you?"

"J ."

Jim cut him off with another kiss, and this time there was no hesitation. Sandburg immediately responded, sliding his hands up Jim's back, pressing his body against Jim's and encouraging Jim's tongue in its exploration of his mouth.

Jim couldn't believe his own response to the kid. He'd expected to have sex, sure, and he'd expected to enjoy it, but he hadn't expected to have his 'date' shoved up against the door before he'd barely even let him in the room. There was just something about Sandburg that excited all of his senses and made him feel, when he hadn't let himself feel anything for so long.

He released Sandburg's mouth, taking additional pleasure in the wet, swollen lips before he buried his face in the kid's neck, sniffing and tasting, while his fingers were busy getting rid of the flannel shirt, reveling in the sounds that Sandburg was making, and the little tremors that ran through him and vibrated against the back of Jim's fingers.

With a little help from Sandburg, Jim pushed the shirt off his shoulders and let it fall to the floor, joining the hair band he didn't remember dropping there. Sandburg obediently lifted his arms when Jim tugged the t-shirt out of the waistband of his jeans. He pulled it over Sandburg's head and watched his hair fall back around his face. Before the t-shirt even reached the growing pile on the floor, Jim's hands were in Sandburg's hair, pushing it back, pressing kisses to his hairline at his temple, above his ear, behind it.

As he nibbled on Sandburg's earlobe, sucked on the hoops, another glint of silver caught his eye. Jim slid his hand down Sandburg's throat and chest until his fingers found the ring that pierced his left nipple. The loud gasp and whisper of breath against Jim's skin when he tugged gently sent a rush of pleasure straight to his cock. He tugged again, basked in the resulting whimpers and broken sounds so easily drawn from the kid.

Releasing the hoop, Jim slid his hand over Blair's chest, so different from his own. The soft hair tickled over his palm and the pads of his fingers. He let his thumb rub Sandburg's other nipple, smiling at the choked gasp that elicited.

He couldn't resist lowering his head and touching the tip of his tongue to the stiff nub he'd created. Sandburg moaned Jim's name and his fingers dug into Jim's shoulders. His reaction heightened Jim's own excitement, and he sucked on the nipple, grazed his teeth over it, spurred on by each broken cry, each quiver, each clench of fingers against his skin.

Still enchanted by the feel of the springy curls against his palm, Jim dragged his hand down further, felt Sandburg's stomach muscles tense under his touch. Emboldened, he moved his attention back to the first nipple, curled the tip of his tongue through the ring, and tugged. The kid must be new to this, Jim thought, to be so responsive.

As he persisted suckling and teasing the pierced nipple, he continued the downward movement of his hand, slid it over Sandburg's jeans and cupped him through the denim, squeezed.

Sandburg felt like he was going to shake apart in Jim's arms. He arched into his touch. "Oh, god, Jim."

Unable to resist, he brought his hand up just enough to be able to slip the tips of his fingers beneath the waistband of Sandburg's jeans. The kid sucked in a breath and Jim shoved his hand down into them, completely turned on by the way Sandburg was rubbing his hands over Jim's head and shoulders, babbling encouragement.

Jim knew that the 'dates' he scheduled with the agency were paid very well to be accommodating, but there was no way that Sandburg was faking this. He could possibly fake the sounds he made and the way he touched Jim, but he couldn't fake the way his body responded, the way his muscles quivered or the arousal that poured off of him, and that knowledge nearly overloaded Jim's senses.

His knuckles brushed Sandburg's hard length and he found the head with his thumb. He stroked the velvety steel with his knuckles, then swiped his thumb across the tip to gather up the precome that had collected there, and pulled his hand out.

Sandburg's whine of protest turned to a moan when Jim brought his thumb to his lips and licked it clean. The salty, bitter taste exploded across his tongue. He didn't even bother trying to resist the urge to taste more. Jim cradled Sandburg's face in both hands and kissed him, slid his tongue into the kid's mouth and received a welcoming groan as Sandburg's tongue met his.

Lips still fused together, Jim slid his hands down to cup Sandburg's ass, and gave his cheeks a little lift. As if he'd read Jim's mind, Sandburg brought his arms up and wrapped them around Jim's neck, and with a little hop and some help from Jim, soon had his legs wrapped around Jim's waist.

Jim pressed him back against the door, pushed their groins together, and Sandburg made a strangled noise deep in his throat. Jim pulled away and sucked in air as he dragged his lips across Sandburg's jaw and down his neck. When he found the spot that made Sandburg moan and throw his head back, Jim sucked hard enough to leave a mark, something he'd been so very careful not to do before.

Sandburg clawed at his shoulders and whimpered in his ear. Jim ground their groins together and bit down hard enough to taste blood. Sandburg cried out and jerked against him, and Jim felt the animalistic urge to throw him down on the floor, rip his jeans off and take him. Claim him.

He lifted his head and pressed his lips to Sandburg's. "I want to fuck you," he said against them.

Jim watched Sandburg's eyes get big. "Are you sure, man?" His voice was barely a hoarse whisper.

Jim twirled them around and was across the room in two strides. "Positive." He placed one knee on the bed and deposited Sandburg on his back, then followed him down for another kiss. Jim slipped one hand between them to work on Sandburg's belt.

Within moments, Jim had Sandburg's sneakers, socks and jeans off, and was pulling his boxers down, adding them to the pile beside the bed. He ran his hands up Sandburg's legs, over bony shins and knobby knees to firm thighs. He brushed his thumbs along Sandburg's hard length as his hands moved over generous hips that Jim couldn't wait to grab onto as he drove into Sandburg's ass.

Jim took his time sliding his hands over Sandburg's chest, still fascinated with the sensation of the hair against his palms. He teased one nipple between his fingers and looped his pinky through the hoop piercing the other, gave it a slight tug that was just enough to make Sandburg squirm and bring both hands up to clutch at Jim's biceps.

"We don't have to rush," Sandburg said, gasped when Jim leaned down and licked his nipple, flicked the ring back and forth with his tongue just to see Sandburg's response. "But if we are," he continued gamely, "maybe you could take your clothes off, too."

His eyes locked on Sandburg's expressive face, Jim knelt up and began unbuttoning his shirt. Sandburg reached up and tugged the tails out of his slacks and began unbuttoning it from the bottom. When their fingers met, Jim pulled the shirt off while Sandburg pushed his undershirt up and spread his fingers over Jim's belly. The touch made his stomach muscles quiver.

He pulled the undershirt over his head and Sandburg's hand followed it up. He brushed the pads of his fingers over Jim's nipples, then stroked them again when he moaned. Jim bit his bottom lip to keep from making another sound as Sandburg rolled his nipples between thumbs and index fingers, then gently pinched them.

Sandburg ran his index fingers down the center of Jim's chest and stomach, stopping only when he reached the waistband of Jim's pants. He looked up at Jim with an innocent expression as he played with the material. "Can we get rid of these, too?"

"What do you think, Sandburg?"

Innocent eyes still locked on Jim's, Sandburg ran one finger down the length of trapped hardness, making Jim shiver at the touch.

"I think this looks painful," Sandburg said, then rubbed two fingers beneath Jim's balls.

Jim couldn't get his pants off fast enough, which made Sandburg grin. It didn't help that Sandburg kept reaching for him, stroking his fingers over sensitive flesh as Jim was trying to divest himself of the rest of his clothing.

As soon as he was naked, Jim climbed back between Sandburg's spread thighs and kissed a path up his belly and chest as he reached for the bottle of lube he'd placed within easy reach after making the call to the agency. With one last hard kiss to Sandburg's lips, Jim scooted back down and licked a stripe up his cock.

"Oh, god."

Jim got lost in the musky scent and taste. He buried his nose in Sandburg's balls, gently licked and sucked on them. The swearing and begging from above, and the fingers kneading his scalp, drove him on.

When the fingers on his head started tugging at his hair, Jim raised his head and wrapped his lips around the head of Sandburg's cock. His cry of pleasure drowned out the snick as Jim flipped the cap open. One hand digging into Sandburg's hip, Jim managed to use the other to squirt enough lube onto his fingers to grease up his '69 Ford.

When Jim touched Sandburg's ass, circled his finger around the hole, he made a surprised little whimper. Sandburg lifted his leg around Jim, dug his heel into Jim's back. The move raised his hips and Jim allowed more of Sandburg's cock to slide into his mouth as he pushed one finger into his ass.

He unerringly found Sandburg's prostate and rubbed his finger over it. Sandburg keened deep in his throat, a sound Jim wanted to hear again, so he continued to pay attention to his pleasure spot while he slid his mouth up and down his cock, sucking hard, and taking special care to press his tongue against the bundle of nerves just below the head.

Sandburg's hands had dropped to the bed, his fingers clawed at the covering. He chanted Jim's name and ohgodyespleaseJimJimJim.

Jim pulled his finger out and pushed back in with two. Sandburg was tight. He'd noticed it with just one finger, but it was even more obvious with two. He twisted his fingers to loosen Sandburg up, then reached for his prostate. He released Sandburg's cock and sat back far enough that he could watch his fingers moving in and out of Sandburg's ass.

When he couldn't wait any longer to have his cock buried in the tight channel, Jim pulled his fingers out and leaned back on his heels. As if the weight was too great for him to hold up, Sandburg's leg fell back to the bed. Jim picked up the condom and tore the wrapper with his teeth, then rolled it on, poured lube over his cock, and spread it with his hand.

Jim considered rolling Sandburg onto his stomach, putting him on his knees so he could fuck him fast and hard, but he also wanted to see his face when he came. He dragged a pillow over and pushed Sandburg's legs back to raise his ass up so he could shove it under his hips.

His hands were shaking as he lifted Sandburg's legs up onto his shoulders. The kid's eyes were open wide as he watched Jim.

"You ready?"

"Yes."

Jim slid his hands down Sandburg's thighs to his hips, then slid them underneath to cup his cheeks. He squeezed them in an attempt to calm himself, to slow things down, but when he pulled them apart to expose Sandburg's hole, stretched and shiny with lube, any patience he might have gained was lost.

One hand gripping Sandburg's hip, Jim used the other to guide his cock to the entrance to his body and pressed in.

"Jim!" Sandburg nearly sobbed his reaction to being penetrated.

"You all right?" he asked.

"Yes, yes, Jim...."

Jim gripped Sandburg's hips with both hands and pushed the rest of the way inside with one steady thrust. Sandburg was so tight Jim thought he could come just from the feel of him, hot and snug around him.

"Still okay?" Jim managed to get the words out, hold still, despite the nearly overwhelming urge to let loose and just fuck him, hard and fast.

"Yeah, man." Sandburg gasped the words.

Jim was so desperate that he wanted nothing more than to take him at his word, but he could feel the minute tremors coursing through his body. He ran his hands up and down Sandburg's thighs. "Relax, Sandburg. Christ, you're so tight."

"Is that bad?"

Jim gave a bark of humorless laughter. "God, no." He squeezed Sandburg's legs and hung his head, eyes closed to the sight of his cock buried in the kid's body so that it didn't put an end to the patient care he was trying to take.

"What's wrong?"

"I'm afraid I'm going to come embarrassingly quickly."

"Really?"

Jim opened his eyes to glare down into sparkling blue. "Really."

"Cool."

Jim had the staggeringly intense desire to wipe that grin off Sandburg's face and replace it with the expression of a man caught in the throes of passion. He pulled out and pushed back in, slow and steady. Long, deep strokes, then short, quick jabs. He changed the angle of his hips until he found Sandburg's prostate, then punched it with each thrust.

He watched with satisfaction as Sandburg's eyes glazed over, even teeth worried his lower lip, and grasping fingers tangled in the comforter. Jim leaned forward and Sandburg's eyes grew wide as the move lifted his hips, opened him up so that Jim could slide in even deeper, and trapped his cock between their bellies.

"Oh god, oh god, Jim."

"I am going to fuck you so hard," Jim said. He lowered one of Sandburg's legs and wrapped it around his back, then lowered his head to lick Sandburg's swollen bottom lip. "That you'll feel it for a week."

"Yes, please." Sandburg brought one hand up to cup the back of Jim's head and opened to his searching tongue. His leg slipped down Jim's back and his heel dug into Jim's ass as Jim fucked him.

Sandburg moaned into his mouth and used his leg around Jim's back to urge him *faster, harder, deeper, moremoremore*. When Jim pulled back to breathe, Sandburg arched his back and let his head fall back. The sight of his mark on Sandburg's neck ramped up Jim's arousal.

He lowered his head and licked the spot, felt the heat from the blood he'd drawn to the surface and the slight indentations from his teeth, tasted the blood. Jim found Sandburg's pulse point and pressed his tongue against it, felt the beat of Sandburg's heart through his entire body. His hips sped up with each sexy, little sound Sandburg made; his lips closed on Sandburg's throat, and he sucked.

Sandburg gasped, "Oh, my god, Jim," and came against Jim's stomach.

The feel of Sandburg's cock pulsing between them and the warm fluid on his belly combined with the musky scent of Sandburg's release and the sensation of his ass tightening around him sent Jim flying over the edge with no warning at all.

His arms shaking, Jim lowered himself onto Sandburg, whose only reaction was to tighten his arm around Jim's shoulders. He buried his nose in Sandburg's neck, breathing in the aroma of sweat and semen and the underlying scent that was purely Sandburg.

The sense of loss when he slipped of out Sandburg drew Jim out of his deep contemplation of his scent. He rolled off Sandburg, silencing his whine of protest with a kiss.

"I need to get a cloth."

"Mmm, okay, man."

After Jim disposed of the condom, he wet a wash cloth with warm water and gently wiped himself clean. He rinsed the cloth out and took it with him into the bedroom. Sandburg was spread out on the bed, eyes closed, a big grin on his face.

"Someone looks like the cat that got the cream."

Sandburg's grin widened and he opened his eyes, pinned Jim with a self-satisfied gaze. "That was amazing." He watched avidly while Jim carefully cleaned him off, then withdrew the soiled pillow and tossed it on the floor. "And totally unexpected."

Jim raised his eyebrows and gave Sandburg's leg a sharp slap. "Didn't think this old man had it in him?"

Sandburg blushed and reached one hand out for Jim's arm. "No way, man. Jim, that's so not what I meant."

Jim could tell that Sandburg wasn't lying, so he took pity on him and asked, "What did you expect, then?" as he carried the cloth back to the bathroom and tossed it into the sink.

"That we'd talk, you know, get to know each other a little."

Sandburg's voice sounded muffled, and Jim turned back to the bed to see that he had crawled beneath the blankets and had his face buried in a pillow. Before he could do more than give the kid a look of surprise, a knock sounded at the door.

Wondering who would ignore the 'do not disturb' sign, Jim found his pants and pulled them on, then checked the peephole before undoing the chain and pulling the door open a crack. "Can I help you?"

His head was dipped so that light brown hair fell across his forehead. He was posed with his hands stuck into the front pockets of his slacks, one shoulder leaning against the doorframe. He grinned at Jim's question. "I thought that was my line."

When Jim just frowned in response, he said, "I'm from the agency."

Jim's first thought was for the man lying naked in his bed, and he was immediately suspicious. "ID?"

He produced a laminated picture ID card with the name of the agency printed across the top and the name he gave to clients in the center.

Jim glanced over his shoulder at Sandburg, who hadn't even stirred when the knock sounded. He turned back to the man at the door and held his finger up, then let the door close. He walked over to the dresser and picked up the envelope he'd placed there early.

Listening to Sandburg's heartbeat, Jim slapped the envelope against his palm, considered the unexpected turn his evening had taken. He moved back over to the door and pulled it open. The man, who'd been staring at his shoes, looked up at Jim.

"I apologize for the inconvenience," Jim said, "but I won't be needing your services tonight." He held out the envelope and the other man's gaze dropped to it.

He glanced up at Jim through his eyelashes, which would have gotten Jim hard if he hadn't already romped in the sack with Sandburg, who apparently wasn't the 'date' he'd ben expecting. "I don't mind threesomes," he offered, and Jim felt a growl building in his throat at the thought of this man, or anyone else besides himself, touching Sandburg.

"That won't be necessary," he said, and shoved the envelope into the man's hand.

He had the grace to look sheepish. "Sorry, I...."

"Goodnight," Jim said. He stood back and let the door swing shut, then engaged the additional locks.

Jim picked Sandburg's clothes up off the floor and held them in his hands as if he didn't know what to do with them. He considered the man sleeping in his bed, wondered if he should rouse him and kick him out. Especially since it turned out that he wasn't the man Jim had been waiting for.

The thought of climbing into an empty bed that retained only the smell of Sandburg was not appealing, and that alone should've been enough to raise a warning flag. Shaking the wrinkles out of the t-shirt and flannel, Jim held them to his nose and breathed deeply, inhaling Sandburg's scent before he laid them over the arm of the sofa.

Jim wondered what had brought Sandburg to his hotel room, and why he'd had sex with him when it wasn't the reason he'd shown up. Although, it answered the question of why Sandburg had refused to remain quiet, as he'd instructed the agency, Jim thought with a smile as he picked up Sandburg's jeans and added them to the growing pile. Which made him think about some of the things Sandburg had said earlier - * moving a little fast here...talk first, get to know each other...don't have to rush...unexpected* - and about how tight he'd felt when Jim had pressed even a single digit inside him.

He was horror struck for a moment before his mind cleared enough for him to remember that Sandburg had been just as turned on as Jim had, that he'd wanted it just as much, and had obviously enjoyed himself if his current state was any indication. Still, Jim sniffed the air, relieved when he found only a trace metallic odor, just enough to account for the blood he'd drawn with the bite.

He walked back around the bed and removed his slacks, tossed them over the back of one of the chairs. He turned the bedside light off and climbed beneath the sheet, felt a surge of warmth when, even in his sleep, Sandburg shifted closer to him. Jim ran his hand over Sandburg's shoulder, down his back, let himself feel the soft hairs and tiny pores.

"Sandburg," he said, knowing he wouldn't be able to rest without making sure the kid was all right. "Sandburg." He shook him a little.

"We just had sex," Sandburg said, his voice thick with sleep and muffled by the pillow, "really, really great sex, I think it would be okay for you to call me Blair."

Jim rolled his eyes, though he knew that Sandburg couldn't see him even if he'd been looking. "Look, Chief, I just...." He squeezed the firm cheek his hand had come to rest on. "Had you done this before?"

Sandburg...Blair...stretched, smiled. "No," he said, practically purring. "I was saving it."

Even more confused now, and a little bit worried that maybe Sandburg hadn't been ready to give it up, Jim said, "Saving it for who?"

"For you, Jim."

"For me? But, Sandburg, you don't even know me."

"We've got plenty of time for that, man," Blair said, then snuggled into Jim's side.

Jim knew that the meaning behind that statement needed to be parsed, but the length of warm skin against his own not to mention the powerful orgasm he'd just enjoyed made it difficult for him to think, so he decided to put it off until the morning. He put his head down on the pillow and wrapped his arm around Blair, pulled him close enough so that his scent tickled at Jim's nose while his hair tickled the skin of Jim's shoulder.

ENEMIES

Jim woke with his nose buried in Blair's neck. A glance in the direction of the window, despite drawn curtains, told him that it was still the middle of the night. The question of what had woken him was cut off half-formed when Blair wriggled in his sleep, his ass pressing sweetly against Jim's hard cock.

Every nerve ending tingled. He took a deep breath in an attempt to calm himself. It backfired spectacularly when the scent of sweat and sex and Blair filled his nostrils. He buried his face more deeply into Blair's neck, beneath his hair where the scent of him was even stronger.

Unable to resist, he stuck his tongue out and licked Blair's skin, the taste was addicting and he suckled to get more of it. He slipped his hand around Blair, placed it flat against his belly, spread his fingers wide and let himself feel. He slid his hand up Blair's chest, combed his fingers through the soft hair.

Blair made a sound and arched into Jim's touch. "Jim?"

"You expecting someone else?" He spoke low into Blair's ear and felt the resulting shiver all the way down to his toes.

Blair reached back and clasped his hand over Jim's ass cheek. "Fuck me."

Jim groaned, barely stopped himself from accepting Blair's invitation and just pushing into him. "It's too soon," he said, distracting himself from the thought of Blair's tight ass by playing with his nipple, pulling on the ring, slipping his pinky through it and giving it a gentle tug.

Unfortunately, his ministrations only served to cause Blair to make the sweetest little noises as he writhed between Jim's fingers and his cock, arched his back to push into his touch.

"Please, Jim, I want to feel you inside me again," Blair said, his tone pleading, the scent of his arousal intoxicating. He lifted his leg back over top of Jim's and wiggled his ass in invitation. "Please."

Jm nosed Blair's hair out of the way to nuzzle his neck, and forced himself to wrap his fingers around Blair's cock, determined to bring him off without hurting him. His deception was not lost on Blair.

"No, Jim! Wanna come with you inside me, please."

Ignoring Blair's plea, Jim stroked his cock, felt the blood flowing beneath the taut skin as it filled in his hand. He reached down and cupped Blair's balls, rolled them, felt them tighten at his touch. Even as Blair's arousal grew, though, Jim could sense his distress, almost smell it wafting off him, souring the heady, fragrant scent of him.

"Chief, Blair, I don't want to hurt you," Jim said, loathe to relent, yet unable to resist the proof of Blair's anguish.

"You won't," Blair nearly sobbed, "I need, god, Jim, I need...."

Jim couldn't bear the pain in Blair's voice. He reached between Blair's legs and pressed a single finger inside him, checking for tears, making sure he was still slick enough, stretched enough, to accommodate him.

Blair's relief when Jim probed him was palpable in the way his entire body relaxed, opened to the touch. He chanted beneath his breath, "Yes, Jim, please, yes," until Jim, satisfied that he wouldn't hurt him, positioned himself at his entrance and slid inside him.

The fit was as tight as Jim remembered, and he thought that Blair just might kill him if he came now and ended this too soon.

Blair whined, wiggled his hips. "Jim, move, please."

"Jesus, Sandburg." Jim grabbed his hip and stilled him. He dropped his forehead against the back of Blair's head. "You keep doing that, and this'll be over before it even gets started."

Blair remained motionless. "You're that close, man?"

"Closer," Jim said, taking advantage of his position to breathe in more of Blair's delicious scent. "Christ, you smell good, Chief."

Blair whimpered and reached for himself. "Oh, god."

Before he had a chance to stroke, Jim closed his fingers over top of Blair's. "Let me."

Blair slid his fingers out from beneath Jim's and reached back to ground himself by clutching Jim's hip. "Yeah, yeah, okay."

Jim kept his grip loose on the first stroke, then experimented with a tighter grip, a squeeze, a twist. He concentrated on Blair's reaction in an attempt to take his mind off his own arousal. It might have worked if Blair wasn't making such sweet little sounds and giving off such a delicious aroma. Or if he wasn't squeezing Jim's cock inside that hot, tight channel with every stroke on his own cock. Finally admitting to himself that he was fighting a losing battle, Jim placed his lips against Blair's ear and said, "Fuck my hand."

With a desperate little whimper, Blair began to move his hips, pushed forward into Jim's fist, slid back onto his cock. Blair panted, scrabbled at the sheet with his free hand as the other dug into Jim's hip. His thrusts sped up and he grunted as he worked to bring himself off.

So attuned was he to Blair, that he could feel every change in his body. Feel the blood flowing, rushing, the muscles flexing, tensing. He knew exactly when Blair was going to come, but that knowledge didn't help him, though he tried to brace himself for it.

Blair's orgasm slammed into him, through him, and straight into Jim. His semen spilled over Jim's fingers and his muscles tightened around Jim's cock.

Jim lowered his head, mouthed Blair's shoulder as he pulled back and thrust into him, ramming over his prostate as Blair, nearly spent, shuddered around him and made a keening sound that went directly to Jim's cock. He bit down on Blair's neck as he drove into him, no longer able to control his need to possess the other man. Blair's cry when Jim bit him, and one last dry pulse of his cock, were all it took to send Jim plummeting over the edge to join him.

When Jim woke up again, the sun was shining outside the curtained windows and he was still wrapped around Blair. The room reeked of sex, and the scent that was distinctly Blair's ticked his nose. His cock was still nestled between Blair's cheeks.

He grimaced at the memory of pounding into Blair for the second time, even after he'd realized that the other man had been a virgin before last night. He lifted his head and went up onto his elbow so he could look down at Blair, still sleeping peacefully. He wondered if Blair would continue to look that content after he woke up.

As he drew back, he saw the bite mark he'd left on Blair's neck. He pushed Blair's hair out of the way so he could get a better look at it. He ran a gentle thumb over the bite, felt each tiny indentation. Blair made a sound deep in his throat and shivered at Jim's touch; his reaction created an answering response in Jim. The urge to mark him again, claim him, was so strong it scared Jim.

Careful not to wake Blair, he pulled away from him and got out of the bed, then pulled the blankets back up to cover his shoulders. He waited when Blair made a little snuffle of protest, as if he knew, even in his sleep, that Jim was no longer there, and resettled himself around a pillow before walking into the bathroom and closing the door behind him.

He leaned on the sink, stared at his reflection in the mirror, and wondered what in hell was happening. His reaction to Blair was unusual, which confused him. He didn't like being uncertain, and so it tended to make him angry.

In the dim glow of the night light the hotel conveniently provided, Jim relieved himself, then turned on the water for his shower. When it ran at a comfortable temperature, he turned on the shower and stepped into the tub. He perfunctorily washed his hair and soaped up his body, then stood under the spray to rinse off. Jim felt the beginning of a headache, so he rubbed his temples and bent his head forward to allow the water to pound onto the back of his neck. He closed his eyes and tried to figure out what was going on with him.

So lost in his thoughts, the first indication Jim had that he wasn't alone was the cool air brushing across his skin when Blair pulled back the curtain and stepped into the tub with him.

"Sandburg?"

"Morning," Blair said. He pushed past Jim with his eyes partly closed, until he stood under the spray he'd just evicted Jim from.

Jim stared at him in disbelief as the water ran over his head, wetting the curls that hung in his face. "What are you doing?"

"Trying to wake up. Man, what a night." Blair pushed his hair back out of his face and opened his eyes, smiled up at Jim.

His body's reaction took his breath away. As aroused as he was, the fact that this, this kid, caused such a strong response annoyed him, made him a little brusque. "I normally shower alone."

The smile fell off Blair's face. "Oh. You want me to, uh...." He gestured towards the curtain.

Blair looked like a wet, bedraggled puppy, and when he looked up at Jim with those huge, round blue eyes, he felt like a total heel. It didn't help that, despite the irritation he felt at his body's traitorous reaction, he was still unable to completely ignore the influence his little head held over him.

He reached out and closed his fingers around Blair's hand. "No, I.... It's all right, it's just...."

"Weird?"

"Yeah, it's a little strange," Jim said, though he personally thought that was an understatement. He was not unfamiliar with hot, hard sex, but he wasn't used to the animalistic behavior he'd exhibited in reaction to Blair, nor to passion that was banked, ready to burn bright at the slightest provocation, rather than sated and burned out.

"I know, for me, too, man. I mean, I had no idea what to expect, but this...." He smiled again, and desire coiled low in Jim's belly. "Not even in my wildest dreams did I think it would be this amazing."

Blair reached out slowly and placed his palm flat on Jim's chest. His touch was gentle, almost reverent. He moved his hand, rubbed the tips of his fingers over Jim's nipple, and Jim tightened his grip on the hand he'd forgotten he was holding.

Blair looked up at him through his lashes, his eyes wide and dark with desire. Arousal slammed into his gut and he gave Blair's hand an involuntary tug forward. Without even hesitating, Blair took the one step that brought their bodies flush.

Jim felt the heat radiating off him, the tickle of hair against his chest, saw the droplets that wet his eyelashes. He slid his free hand up Blair's arm, felt the shiver and goose bumps that broke out on his skin. Over his shoulder and up the back of his neck until his fingers were buried in Blair's hair.

He tilted Blair's head back, and the breathless, "Jim," went straight to his cock.

Jim lowered his head and nibbled on Blair's lips. The sour smell of morning breath was overshadowed by the heady scent of his arousal.

Blair moaned, darted his tongue out and licked Jim's lips. The taste was slightly bitter, but beneath that lay a teasing hint of Blair that made Jim want more. He slipped his tongue into Blair's mouth, mapped it, licked until all he could taste was Blair.

Blair slid his hand up and around Jim's neck, holding onto him as if he thought Jim might try to get away, as if that was even a possibility.

When they separated, both breathing heavily, Blair said, "I want to suck you," and Jim's knees nearly buckled. "Can I?"

Jim growled. "Jesus, Sandburg."

Blair just grinned up at him, his fingers moving in the short hairs at the back of Jim's neck. "Is that a yes? 'Cause I really want to taste you."

Jim's fingers tightened in Blair's hair, which he must have taken as an affirmative, because he just laughed and began to slide down Jim's body, pausing to lick and suck a nipple to hardness before moving on to his belly.

Jim's cock had leaked, and he could feel the fluid, warm and sticky on his stomach. Blair clutched at his hip while he lapped at his belly, then flicked his tongue over the tip, into the slit. He curled his tongue around the head, then pulled his fingers out of Jim's grasp and wrapped them around the base. Holding it still, he licked around the head as if he was licking an ice cream cone, then sucked on it.

Jim bent over Blair's head and braced himself against the wall of the tub on one arm. His other hand cradled the back of Blair's head, fingers rhythmically stroking his skull. He groaned when Blair released him.

"Is this all right?" he asked, wet, swollen lips brushing Jim's cock as he spoke.

"Christ, yes," Jim said, equally turned on and frustrated that Blair had stopped.

Blair's lips curved up into a smile that Jim might normally have taken offense at, believing he was being made fun of. Somehow, though, he could tell that Blair was enjoying himself as much as he was enjoying Jim's reaction.

"You sure?" Blair said, as he teasingly licked around the head, flicked the tip of his tongue into the slit.

Jim gave Blair's head a little nudge. "Chief, just...."

Blair blinked up at him with innocent eyes.

"Blair, please."

Blair took him back in and moaned around him. The sound vibrated through his cock and down to his balls, and Jim had to grit his teeth to keep the whimper from escaping. Blair moved his mouth up and down the shaft, his tongue pressed against the underside. It was hot, wet heaven, and all Jim could do to keep from rocking his hips, pushing deeper into Blair's mouth.

Blair dropped his hand to Jim's sac, cupped his balls in the palm of his hand as if he held a precious object, then closed his fingers around them and gently squeezed. He kneaded Blair's neck and shoulder encouragingly until his fingers found the bite mark he'd made last night.

Blair made a sound deep in his throat as Jim stroked his thumb over it. He moved his other hand off Jim's hip to his cock, curled his fingers around the base, and awkwardly jerked Jim as he sucked him.

Jim watched as Blair's lips, stretched taut around him, met his fingers, felt his hand slide more easily as his cock became slick with saliva, felt the balls cradled in Blair's hand tighten, heard Blair's heavy pants as he breathed through his nose, the wet sounds as he suckled and slid his hand up and down Jim's length.

Everything whited out as bright lights exploded behind his eyes and static filled his ears. Jim dug his thumb into the bite on Blair's neck and came, his cock pulsing and jerking as he filled Blair's mouth with his spunk.

Still suckling, Blair dropped his hand from Jim's empty balls and fisted his own cock. Jim's cock gave one last interested twitch as Blair moaned around it while working himself to orgasm. Jim's cock slipped out from between his lips and he wrapped his arm around Jim's leg, pressed his forehead against his groin. Little puffs of air feathered across his sensitive cock and it was all Jim could do to hold himself upright with a shaking arm.

Now that the pressure of orgasm had lessened, Jim was able to gentle his touch on Blair's neck, and he returned to stroking the symbol of his claim. He wasn't sure if Blair knew what Jim had done, but each stroke over that spot sent a shudder through him. Jim could see Blair's hand move on his cock, and soon he was grunting and shaking against Jim's leg as he spilled his seed down the drain.

"You ha-, you have to stop touching me there."

"Whe-? Oh." Jim lifted his thumb off the bite, pushed himself off the wall so he was standing mostly vertical. He placed his hands on either side of Blair's head and tilted it back. "You okay?"

Blair's smile was radiant, despite the fact that he was still breathing heavily, and it pulled an answering smile from Jim. "Never better, man," he panted.

"Need help getting up?"

Blair lifted his hand, then looked at it. "Sorry." He wiped the evidence of his orgasm on his leg, then lifted his hand back up to Jim.

Jim shook his head and hauled Blair to his feet. The maneuver placed Blair back in the spray's path, and he was forced to let go of Jim to push the hair out of his face. Jim felt an uncustomary tenderness as he reached up and helped Blair push his hair back. He framed Blair's face and looked into his eyes, then leaned down and kissed him.

He drew the line at bathing him, so squelched the urge to reach for the shampoo. Leaving Blair to finish his shower, Jim dried off and carefully hung the towel over the rack. He dressed in the change of clothes he'd brought with him, then folded his dirty clothes and stuffed them in the duffel. He decided to wait until Blair was out of the shower before he packed his toiletries.

To kill time, he gathered up the rest of Blair's things, tossed the socks and boxers onto the sofa and placed the sneakers on the floor below the pile of clothes. He threw the covers up over the mattress in an attempt to hide all the evidence of what had happened in that bed. It didn't work, of course, because the entire room stank of pheromones and semen.

He looked around the room, ran his hand over his head, wondered for the first time since he'd started indulging in these one-night stands with paid 'dates', what was going to happen next? As much as he hated to admit it, because he was committed to remaining unattached, he'd felt a connection with Blair. It intrigued him almost as much as it scared him.

Blair walked out of the bathroom clothed only in a cloud of steam. A glance into the other room revealed a wet towel tossed carelessly onto the floor. He was using the third large, fluffy white towel the hotel provided to dry his hair, and saying something about the water pressure and the size of the water heater, but Jim wasn't paying attention because his eyes were drawn to the nipple ring laying flat on Blair's chest, and the thick dark hair that made his palm itch to touch it.

He followed the tempting line of hair down Blair's stomach to his groin. His own cock twitched with arousal when Blair's cock filled beneath his gaze. He raised his eyes to Blair's, filled equally with lust and amusement.

"Not that I'm not game," he said, "but maybe we should talk about what we're going to do next, first."

That reminder was like a splash of cold water. Jim made a show of checking his watch. "Check out's at eleven, so I hope you don't plan on talking as much as you did last night."

"Your sense of humor needs some work," Blair said, then threw the wet towel at Jim before reaching for his undershorts. "I just figured that we should talk about how this thing is gonna work." He found the tag, turned the boxers in his hand, and stepped into them.

"How what's going to work?" Jim asked, distracted by the way Blair shimmied to arrange the shorts on his hips.

Blair shot Jim a look, blushed when he saw where Jim's attention was focused. He continued digging through the pile for his jeans and Jim fought down a whimper when Blair stepped into them and pulled them up to fit snug over his ass and thighs.

"Well, where we're going to live, for one. And how we're going to manage our work schedules. Luckily, I already live in Cascade, but I have a full class load at Rainier this semester. I can go part time next semester, but I can't back out of my commit-."

"What in hell are you talking about, Chief?" Jim asked when Blair's words finally registered.

Blair paused in pulling his t-shirt on. "I know this is going to be a big change for you, Jim. It will be for both of us. But now that we've bonded...."

Jim's stomach heaved and his knees buckled. He went down hard, thankful he was close enough to catch the corner of the bed and break his fall.

Blair pulled his t-shirt down and reached out for him. "Jim, man, you okay?"

"You're a guide," Jim said, his voice flat.

Blair nodded, offered him a small smile.

"I wasn't looking for a guide."

"I know," Blair said, practically bouncing on his toes. "I didn't expect this at all. I mean, I hoped we could talk, that you might consider.... But, man, I had no idea we'd just click like that, you know?"

Suddenly it all fell into place, the reason he'd been so attracted to Blair, felt so possessive, felt the need to claim him. He went cold, his gut heavy with dread. His father's words - *Do you really want someone else to control you all your life, Jimmy?* - scrolled through his mind.

"I never wanted a guide." Not since that time when he'd asked his father about it, anyway.

"I get that, Jim," Blair said. He'd toned down his excitement and his voice had taken on a soothing quality. "I know it's going to be strange, at first...."

Instead of calming him, it grated on his nerves. "No, Sandburg, you don't get it. I don't want a guide."

Blair's face turned red, but his voice remained even. "But you have one now. And I know we can make this work."

Angry at being manipulated by Blair, and scared because part of him welcomed the bond, Jim snarled, "What part of 'I don't want a guide' don't you get, Sandburg?"

Blair swallowed hard, reached for his hand. "J-."

Jim snatched his hand away before Blair could touch him. "No," he said, and watched Blair's face go pale as the blood rushed out, watched his eyes go dull with understanding.

"Oh. Okay." He stepped away from Jim, looked around the room as if he didn't know what to do next. A piece of Jim wanted to pull Blair into his arms and comfort him, but he forced it down. Blair's eyes finally lighted on the pile of clothes on the sofa; he gathered them up in his arms and stumbled into the bathroom.

Jim could only sit there and listen to the sounds of Blair pulling on his flannel shirt, buttoning it. To the cutoff sob as he sat down on the toilet and pulled on his socks. After taking a moment to compose himself, Blair walked back out into the bedroom and found his sneakers. He shoved his feet into them without untying the laces.

Blair's heart was pounding. His breaths were coming fast, loud, and it almost sounded like he was wheezing. Or trying very hard not to cry.

Jim had to dig his nails into his palms to keep from going to him. Had to grit his teeth to keep from begging him to stay. The fact that his body was fighting his mind, the lessons that had been drilled into him since he was ten, frightened him.

Without speaking to him, without even looking back at him, Blair was gone, and Jim was left alone with the scent of sex and salt from the tears Blair had shed in the bathroom before he collected himself.

Jim listened to him walk down the hall, push the button to call the elevator, and silently wait for the car to arrive. Inside, Blair finally broke his silence. He kicked the wall twice, then leaned against it. "I should have know it was too good to be true," he whispered, his voice choked and broken.

Jim continued to listen as Blair walked through the lobby and to the parking lot, got into his vehicle, started it and drove away. He listened until he could no longer hear the sound of Blair's heartbeat, and wished Blair had spoken at least once more so he could take the sound of his voice home with him.

He rubbed his hands over his face, over his head, told himself it was for the best. Mechanically, he packed his toiletries and stuffed them in the duffel. He took one last look around the room and saw Blair's hair tie lying on the floor. He picked it up, twisted it between his fingers before he stuffed it into his pocket.

FRIENDS

Jim was halfway back to Cascade when an overpowering sense of loss, so profound it made him physically ill, hit, and he was forced to pull over onto the shoulder. It took several deep breaths before he was able to control the sudden nausea, but the ache in his chest remained. At first he feared he was having a heart attack, but after the initial scare abated, he thought to check his heart rate and blood flow, and everything appeared to be in working order.

That knowledge allowed him to calm down and relax a bit. He examined himself with his senses. It wasn't until he'd mentally declared himself physically fit that he allowed himself to consider other options. With senses that only worked half the time, the thought of a mental breakdown was nothing new to Jim. Or perhaps Blair had....

Jim hadn't realized he'd been carrying a piece of Blair inside him until he could no longer feel him. It wasn't just that he could no longer sense him, because he'd lost Blair with his sense of hearing when he was still in the hotel room after Blair had driven away, but that he couldn't feel him. The sadness he'd felt at the hotel when he'd let Blair walk out was nothing to the emptiness filling him now.

His senses instinctively ranged out, searching for Blair. The headache, when it hit, was unexpected, though he supposed it shouldn't be. He'd gotten spoiled in just the few hours since he'd met Blair; senses that he'd had to struggle with giving him no difficulties at all, and now it felt as if they'd been turned down a notch. Without conscious thought, Jim reached into his pocket and fingered Blair's elastic, and felt the headache recede.

Despair warring with resolve, Jim turned the truck around and headed back to the last place he'd sensed Blair. A couple hours later he was parked on the side of the street at the spot where he'd earlier tracked Blair's heartbeat. Now that he was here, he had no idea what to do next. Blair could have gone anywhere after he'd lost him. He could even be on his way back to Cascade.

If he couldn't find him here, Jim decided to head home and look Blair up in Cascade. He didn't know where he lived, but vaguely remembered a mention of Rainier, most likely Rainier University. He extended his senses, searching for any hint of Blair, but there was no sight, scent or sound of him. His gut told him he that needed to find Blair sooner, rather than later, but with no idea where to begin his search, Jim was at a loss.

He pulled the truck back out into traffic and checked the road signs to see exactly where his senses had brought him, and to determine the best route back to the highway. Only then did he realize where Blair's trail had led him. Five minutes later, Jim pulled onto the grounds of the Sentinel Studies Institute. He stopped the truck just inside the wrought iron gates and looked up the drive to the sprawling mansion the Institute had picked up for a song off the auction block nearly fifty years ago. Jim had once sworn that he would never step foot inside this building, yet here he was.

He pulled into the otherwise empty visitor's parking area that stretched out in a crescent-shape to the side of the building, then took a moment to gather his thoughts and recover his equilibrium. His control was lost the moment he stepped into the foyer and smelled Blair on the softly moving air currents. Salt and sweat and sex teased at his nostrils and he expanded his senses. His eyes, which he hadn't even realized he'd closed, shot open when he came up blank. Other than the faint scent, there was no other sign of Blair. The fact that he couldn't find him, couldn't hear his heartbeat, made Jim's palms sweat.

He turned to the receptionist who was smiling up at him despite his bizarre behavior. She'd probably seen worse, he thought, forgetting in his anxious need to find Blair that it had been he who had always been embarrassed by his senses, he who had always wished to just be normal.

"Welcome to the Sentinel Studies Institute. How may I help you?"

Red hair and green eyes that might once have captured his attention received no more than a passing noticed. "I'm looking for Blair Sandburg."

The smile remained, but Jim didn't miss the flicker in her eyes. "Mr. Sandburg isn't available right now, but let me call Dr. Butler. He should be able to answer all of your questions."

"I don't have questions," Jim said, "I just want to see Blair."

His sharp tone didn't cause her smile to falter, or cause any hesitation in her movements. "Dr. Butler can help you with that," she said as she lifted the handset and pressed 813 on the keypad.

Jim tapped his fingers on the corner of her desk - solid mahogany, he noted with one part of his brain, while the other focused on the ringing he could hear through the receiver, then the soft, "Yes, Lydia?"

"Dr. Butler, there's a gentleman here to see Blair Sandburg."

Jim could almost see the stunned expression the little gasp and moment of silence indicated. The doctor's voice, however, was steady when he spoke. "Is he alone?"

"Yes."

"All right, I'll be right down. Thank you, Lydia."

Jim loosed his senses, heard the receiver being returned to its cradle, wheels turn as a chair was rolled away from a desk, footsteps. He paid little attention to Lydia's, "Dr. Butler will be right down," as he pushed away from the desk and stood in the middle of the foyer, facing the door through which he expected Dr. Butler to appear.

The doctor had short blond hair interspersed with grey, laugh lines around brown eyes, and a limp that would only be noticeable to a sentinel. He looked momentarily startled when he saw Jim waiting for him, but quickly recovered his composure and held out his hand. "Mr. Ellison, I'm Dr. Butler."

Jim ignored the hand and the greeting. "Where's Blair?"

The doctor turned the offer to shake into a gesture towards the door he'd just come through. "Why don't we continue this in my office?" Without waiting for Jim's reply, he turned and led the way.

Jim, because he had little choice, followed. "How did you know my name?" he asked as they walked down the wide, carpeted hallway.

"Blair mentioned you."

"That doesn't explain how you knew it was me," Jim said, determined to pin him down.

Dr. Butler stopped walking and looked up the two inches that separated them, directly into Jim's eyes. "I really think it would be better if we had this conversation in my office."

There was a big ball of fear in Jim's gut, but he merely nodded and followed the doctor down the hall. Jim had been a Ranger and a cop for nearly fifteen years; he'd been in situations where his life and the lives of his partners and teammates were in danger. While he'd always been confident in his abilities, he had known the fear of possible defeat, loss, death, at the hands of the enemy. It was nothing to the fear he felt now.

"What's wrong with Blair?" Jim asked as soon as the office door closed behind them. He ignored the doctor's offer of a seat.

"There's nothing wrong with Blair." Dr. Butler sat down in one of the easy chairs.

"Where is he?"

"He's here, at the Institute."

Despite his failure to find him earlier, Jim immediately expanded his senses to search for him again, but to no avail. "Then why can't I sense him?" he asked, too upset to care that he'd just outed himself.

Dr. Butler leaned forward and slid a small machine across the coffee table. "Because of this."

"What is it?"

"A white noise generator. We don't believe that any of the sentinels we deal with here at the Institute would purposely listen in on private conversations, but accidents happen, so we use these to ensure that private meetings remain private."

Jim was initially thrown by the casual reference to sentinels, but quickly recovered and asked, "What does it do?"

Instead of answering directly, Dr. Butler said, "What do you hear?"

With an impatient sigh, Jim said, "Voices, telephones ringing, computer keys being tapped...."

Dr. Butler flipped a switch on the white noise generator and the sudden lack of sound made him feel as if his ears needed to pop.

"Now?"

"Nothing."

He turned the white noise generator off and the sound rushed back in. "That's what a white noise generator does, and one is currently keeping you from hearing Blair."

"Why?"

"Please, Mr. Ellison, sit and let me explain."

Jim looked around the room, picked a chair that put his back to the wall but allowed him to keep an eye on the door, and sat. Normally loathe to show weakness, he'd had an emotionally draining day and he had a feeling that it wasn't over yet. He sighed, rubbed both hands over his face. It was only then that he realized he'd pulled Blair's hair tie out of his pocket and had been twisting it between his fingers. He slipped it back into his pocket, left his hand lying over it so he could feel it through the material of his pants. "Jim."

"Excuse me?"

"Call me Jim."

"Very well, Jim."

"Now, please tell me why you're not letting me see Blair."

"Blair came to see me after he left you this morning."

Butler's tone was matter of fact, but Jim couldn't help the blush at the implication that the doctor knew what had transpired between him and Blair.

"He told me that you and he had...inadvertently bonded."

Jim couldn't hold back the self-conscious laugh at the wording. "We had sex. Great sex."

"Sex may have deepened your bond, but it didn't create it. That's a myth perpetrated by the ignorant and the intolerant."

Jim was brought up short by the suppressed anger in Butler's voice. He was also surprised by the statement itself, and the certainty behind it. Before he could reply, the doctor continued.

"Your name doesn't appear in any of our records. May I ask why you never registered with the Institute?"

Jim shifted, uncomfortable with the direction the conversation had taken. "What does this have to do with Blair?"

"You'll see that it has everything to do with Blair. Please, answer the question."

Jim considered just getting up and walking out of the office without answering. He now knew that Blair was here at the Institute, and he'd search the entire building room-by-room to find him, if he had to. The only thing holding him to the chair was the implication that, no matter how intrusive the question, no matter how painful the memories it evoked, the answer would help Blair.

He let the memories come. Seeing Bud lying there, dead; no one believing him when he told what he'd seen; his father shaking him, exhorting him to hide his abilities or be considered a freak. "My father didn't want anyone to know his son was a freak."

Dr. Butler's eyes flashed. "You're a sentinel, not a freak." He clamped his lips shut on anything further he wished to say on the matter, sighed. "I was afraid it was something like that."

Jim shrugged. He'd gotten used to who and what he was. Mostly. He used his senses to help him with his work when he could, but did nothing to draw attention to himself. Whether he still felt like a freak at times, even though his senses occasionally aided him in bringing criminal's to justice, wasn't the issue.

"Blair?"

"Blair told me that you didn't want a guide."

"What does that...?"

Dr. Butler held up his hand to forestall Jim's question. "He also asked me to help him break the bond."

Jim felt like he'd been sucker punched, found it difficult to draw breath. "Can you do that?"

"Yes." The hesitation was brief, but Jim didn't miss it. "It's not something to be entered into lightly, but it can be done."

"Is that what he's doing now?"

"Yes."

Jim felt a prickle of apprehension at the thought of losing Blair. He tried to remind himself that he'd never wanted a guide, still didn't want a guide, but his entire body felt as if he'd gone on full alert. Every nerve ending was screaming danger!

"You need to stop it."

Dr. Butler looked sympathetic, but his voice was firm when he said, "That might not be in Blair's best interest."

"What do you mean?" Jim's clenched his hands into fists. He knew he must look fierce, but Dr. Butler didn't appear the least bit intimidated by him.

"Because if this attempt to sever the bond is unsuccessful, we'll have to try another, more invasive, procedure. And if that also fails, we'd be forced to resort to the final, most radical method.

"What if I don't want the bond severed?"

"You'd need to be very certain, Jim, because I won't put Blair through this again. Or chance the possibility that we render this method of severing the bond ineffective."

With every fiber of his being, Jim wanted to beg the doctor to let him see Blair, to stop this process of tearing them apart, but his mind couldn't completely forget the teachings of William Ellison.

"Can you, can you tell me what he's doing?"

"He's not actually doing anything. Right now he's basically unconscious. The most important thing, with this procedure, is to cut you off from him. Being in a separate room keeps you from seeing him, touching him, even tasting him."

Despite the circumstances, Jim found himself blushing.

"The white noise generator, as you've seen, keeps you from hearing him. Blair has also entered into a meditative state which should cloak his...essence, for lack of a better word, from you. The guide normally only attempts to sever the bond at the behest of the sentinel, so the sentinel assists in that endeavor by staying away from the Institute during the procedure."

"And that's enough to sever the bond?" In spite of his reservations about bonding, Jim was horrified to think that the bond could be broken so easily.

"Occasionally."

"Occasionally?"

"Less than one percent of the time. It works best when the bond is new and hasn't had time to...strengthen."

"Like ours."

"Blair told me that it has been less than twenty-four hours." He waited for Jim's nod in acknowledgment before continuing. "Then your bond is a good candidate for this procedure, yes."

Jim felt his heart rate increase, his breaths come faster, and realized he was in the throes of a panic attack. "I need to see him. Now."

"I'm sorry, Jim, I can't let you see him." Dr. Butler must have seen the very real distress in his face, because he relented. "However, I can turn the white noise generator off for a moment, but merely for a moment, so that you can reassure yourself that Blair is in fact here, and that he is well, but I can't, in good conscience, leave it off. All right?"

Jim nodded his agreement, then held his breath as Butler moved over to his desk and tapped a few keys on the keyboard. A moment later, Jim heard the slow, even beat that he recognized as Blair's. Thirty second later it was gone again. He opened eyes he'd closed to better concentrate, and said, "Why was it so...steady?"

Dr. Butler moved across the room. "The meditative state would normally put the guide in a deep trance. Because Blair was so...distraught when he arrived here, we both feared that he wouldn't be able to achieve that state on his own, so he's been given a mild sedative to assist him."

"Is it dangerous?"

"The sedative?"

"The procedure."

"Not physically. At least, not this method."

"What does that mean?"

"Breaking the bond carries more emotional pain for the guide, than physical. At least, using this method. If it doesn't work, we move on to the second stage, which utilizes drug therapy in an attempt to sever the bond. Not painful, per se, but more invasive, and if it works, it may require injections for the rest of their lives."

"To what purpose?"

"To inhibit the bond, just as Blair is attempting to do with meditation today. In basic terms, it cuts the guide off from the sentinel."

"What if, what if the drugs don't work? You said there was another, more radical method."

"Yes. We don't encourage it, but guides are very sensitive to the needs of their sentinel, even when their sentinel has turned them out."

"Are you a guide?" Jim asked suddenly, wondering if there was a deeper reason for Butler's empathy towards guides.

He barely raised an eyebrow at Jim's change of subject. "No. Though I originally came here all those many years ago because I thought I might be."

"What happened?"

"I met my wife and fell madly, deeply in love with her."

"I take it she's not a sentinel?"

"No." He smiled. "But a wonderful woman, nonetheless."

Jim smiled in acknowledgment of the gentle knock, then sobered. "You were saying, about the final method."

"Sadly, the final method is just that, final. The guide commits ritual suicide."

Jim's eyes went wide and he felt his mouth drop. "Why on earth would...?"

"Because their sentinel asked them to." He waited for Jim to digest the information that Blair was in there doing this just because Jim had told him that he didn't want a guide. That he had put Blair in this situation where he might possibly be required to end his life to appease his sentinel.

"Jesus. I didn't know."

"And therein lies our problem, Jim. You don't know very much about being a sentinel, but you really do need to, no matter what drivel your father filled your head with." He shook his head, as if to clear it. "But that's neither here nor there. You asked whether Blair would be in pain, but it's actually the sentinel who feels the most discomfort during the process. That's how I knew it was you in the reception area; it would have been too much of a coincidence for someone else to come looking for Blair so soon after we, well, hid him from you."

"But I couldn't sense him."

"Not with your senses, no, but here." Butler tapped his fist against his chest, and Jim remembered the pain that had caused him to pull over to the shoulder on the drive back to Cascade.

"Which reminds me, I should let Carlyle know that you won't be returning to your apartment." He walked back over to the desk and picked up the receiver, dialed. "Carlyle went to your hotel room to let you know what was happening, but you'd already left, so we dispatched him to Cascade. It appears, however, that you beat us to it."

Butler turned away and spoke into the handset. Jim, eager for as much information as he could garner, didn't even pretend to give them any privacy.

"Can I get you something to drink?" Dr. Butler asked after he'd hung up the phone.

Jim started to shake his head, then realized that he was quite thirsty. "Yes, please. Water would be fine."

After Butler had retaken his seat with a bottle of water for himself, as well, he said, "I think we should get back to the issue at hand."

"Which issue would that be?"

"Whether you are, in fact, prepared to accept Blair as your guide if we call a halt to the procedure he's currently in the middle of."

Jim didn't know what he could say to convince Dr. Butler when he wasn't one hundred percent certain himself. Thankfully, Butler didn't wait for him to speak.

"Perhaps we should start with the reason you never wanted a guide."

*Do you really want everyone to think you're a freak? Do you really want someone else to control you all your life, Jimmy?*

The memories were like a physical blow. Jim had been able to ignore so many things that his father had taught him, but not this. He wondered why he'd let his father's fear become his own, because his father hadn't known anything about being a sentinel, and he certainly had never told Jim that having a guide would make him feel...whole.

"Would I be wrong in guessing that your father may have had something to do with your reluctance?"

Jim could only nod. His mind was still telling him that having a guide was a bad idea, while his body was insisting that he go find Blair right now and renew their...connection.

"You said, before you said that bonding had nothing to do with sex?"

Dr. Butler smiled. "Well, it has very little to do with sex, though it has everything to do with chemistry."

"Chemistry?"

"Chemistry," Dr. Butler confirmed. "That thing that makes one person attractive to another, whether it's the way they look, or the way they smell, or the way they sound. Bonding is the sentinel-guide version of love at first sight."

"I don't believe in love at first sight."

"Color me surprised," Dr. Butler said, sarcasm evident, though he spoke the words with a smile that took the sting out. "Granted," he added, expression thoughtful, "Blair broke protocol when he came to see you by himself, but I believe he's more than paid for that lapse in judgment."

"I don't understand."

"Because of the usually immediate, and sometimes quite, uh, explosive, nature of the bond, a representative of the Institute usually acts as a go-between until both parties are...prepared to bond."

"How do you prepare for something like that?" Jim asked without thinking, as he remembered how he'd wanted to possess Blair, claim him, from the moment he'd smiled at him, then flushed when he realized that he'd spoken out loud.

Dr. Butler was smiling when he said, "Indeed. I think you just made my point for me. In Blair's defense, though, he'd nearly lost hope that he'd find a sentinel of his own. I'm sure he didn't expect the bond...."

*That was amazing. And totally unexpected. Not even in my wildest dreams did I think it would be this amazing.*

"No, he didn't. He said, well, a lot. God, I thought he'd never shut up. I finally asked him if...." Jim broke off. "Why am I telling you all this? Are you some kind of shrink who knows just what to say to get people to spill their guts?"

Dr. Butler laughed. "No. I am neither a medical doctor, nor a doctor of the mind. I received my doctorate in Sentinel Studies, right here at the Institute."

"Even after you realized you weren't a guide?"

Butler shrugged. "That was disappointing, yes, but I was still very interested in sentinels and guides, so I continued my studies here. The more I learned, the more I wanted to be a part of it."

Jim took a drink of the water while he thought about that, absently played with the cap he'd twisted off the bottle. "You said Blair had nearly lost hope?"

"Yes. Blair came to the Institute when he was sixteen, determined that he was a guide. He's been searching for his sentinel for ten years now."

"Ten years. How long does it usually take to...find someone to bond with?"

"It's become much easier now that the Institute encourages both guides and sentinels to register, and can arrange meetings between those who remain unbonded. Normally, with representatives present. Though we've had the rare case of one individual showing up here the same day as their bondmate, the average is between two months and two years. Blair is an anomaly. I think it was getting more and more difficult for him to believe it was ever going to happen for him, but he refused to give up that last remnant of hope. He must have thought he'd found his holy grail when the two of you bonded," Dr. Butler finished with a sad smile.

The words, spoken so softly, tore at him. The thought that Blair had been so eager to achieve the one thing he'd always run from was overwhelming. The knowledge that he was the one who Blair had spent ten years waiting for, searching for, was humbling.

"I want to see him."

Dr. Butler's eyebrow shot up and he opened his mouth to speak, but Jim cut him off before he could get a word out.

"I'll take whatever classes you think I need to, do whatever I have to, but I need to see him."

"Are you certain you know what you're getting yourself into? This isn't something you can do on a whim."

"You think this is a whim? I will search every room in this building if I have to."

Butler smiled. "That won't be necessary." He stood and walked over to his desk. A few taps of the keys later, and Jim could hear the slow pounding of Blair's heartbeat once more, the steady thrum of his breathing.

Before he realized what he was doing, Jim rose from his chair and exited the office, led the way to Blair's room. He could hear Dr. Butler's footsteps behind him, but he didn't try to stop him or speak to him. Up one flight and across to the other wing, Jim finally stood outside Blair's door. It was locked, so he pressed both palms against it, leaned in until his forehead was touching the cool metal, and just listened.

He twisted the handle after he heard Dr. Butler swipe his card through the reader. The interior was a cross between a hotel room and a hospital room: a wing back chair sat in the corner by the window, a double bed with solid wood head and footboards took up most of the middle of the room, an armoire that most likely held a television set stood against the wall facing the bed, and a machine that was hooked up to Blair to monitor his vitals stood along the wall between the bed and the door.

Jim sat on the edge of the bed and took a moment to just look at Blair. His face was smooth and unlined, peaceful, free of the pain Jim had placed there himself just that morning. He ran a hand up Blair's leg, over the rough cotton of the scrubs he'd changed into, giving in to the urge to touch him, assure himself that he was all right.

At the first touch, Blair made a small noise and turned to him in his sleep. Jim removed the monitoring patches from Blair's skin, then kicked his shoes off and laid down beside him, pulled him into his arms. "Leave us alone."

Dr. Butler's voice was soft and low when he responded. "Blair will probably be out until the morning, so don't worry if he doesn't wake. I'll reactivate the white noise generator when I leave. There's water on the table, and a telephone. No one will disturb you, but if you need something, anything - we have a cafeteria on site - call us."

Dr. Butler stepped outside, leaving them alone. A few minutes later, Jim felt the pop that told him the white noise generator had been turned back on, giving him and Blair privacy from the rest of the world.

Jim was already awake when Blair stirred the next morning.

He'd remembered that he hadn't eaten anything all day when his stomach growled late the night before. Jim had extricated himself from Blair's tenacious grip and called the cafeteria. Because of the hour, he'd ordered something light that wouldn't affect his rest. A man dressed all in white, from his rubber-soled shoes to the paper hair net on his head, brought the tray and set it up on the rolling table he quickly and quietly moved over to the wing back chair, then left Jim alone with Blair.

Hungrier than he'd realized, Jim fell upon the tray. The beef vegetable soup had been homemade and the cook hadn't skimped on the beef or the vegetables. They'd also sent him two thick slices of warm homemade bread, a bottle of juice, a small carafe of coffee just big enough to hold two cups, and a dish of pudding. When the food was gone, he'd returned to the bed, sat up against the headboard and watched the news with the volume turned down low. He held a cup of coffee in one hand - the need for caffeine overriding his worry about getting to sleep, while the other combed through Blair's hair. He found that the motion soothed him as much as it apparently settled Blair.

Jim had found the bathroom, as well as an old sports magazine someone had left behind, and spent the next hour reading about the Jags prospects with the lights low in deference to Blair. As he lounged on the bed next to him, Blair had wiggled closer in his sleep until he lay with his head on Jim's lap.

For the past hour, the tantalizing scent of bacon, eggs and toast had been tickling his nose, and more recently - and even more pressing - his bladder had been insisting that he empty it. He'd been doing okay, though, until Blair rolled over and dug his elbow into Jim's belly.

Jim couldn't withhold the involuntary, "Shit, Sandburg!"

"Hmmm?"

"Get your elbow out of my bladder."

"Sorry, man," Blair said, his voice slurred with sleep.

Jim knew the moment Blair came awake enough to realize that Jim wasn't supposed to be there. He stiffened and started to pull away, but Jim tightened his hold and kept him in close.

"Jim?"

"Yes?"

"What's going on?"

"You're not getting away from me that easily, Chief."

"I'm not?"

Instead of the relief he'd expected, Jim heard the quick intake of breath, sensed Blair's fear. "What's wrong?" He slid his hands over Blair's back. "Are you hurt? Dr. Butler said this wouldn't hurt you. Blair...."

"No, Jim, I'm...." Jim only calmed when Blair reached up and pressed his fingertips against his cheek. "I'm fine."

"You don't seem fine, you're all tense, and you smell...."

"I smell?"

"You smell scared." Jim suddenly thought of something he hadn't considered before. "Have you, have you changed your mind?"

"No, Jim, I haven't changed my mind."

"Then what...?"

"It's just...what you said. I was still a little out of it, and I, I misunderstood, that's all."

"What did I say?"

Blair shook his head, yawned. "It's nothing, man."

"No, it was something, and I want to know. I need to know. Please, tell me." Jim reached up and took Blair's hand, which was still resting against his face.

Blair stared at their joined hands, then turned his gaze to Jim. "About, ah, not getting away from you so easily."

"I actually meant 'ever'."

Blair smiled, and for someone who'd so recently been brought to tears by Jim's actions, it was amazingly incandescent. "I get that, now."

"What did you think I meant?"

"It's not imp ."

"It is to me."

He read the capitulation in Blair's eyes. "I thought it hadn't worked."

Jim immediately understood what Blair wasn't saying, that he'd feared he might have to move on to one of the other methods of severing their bond. He wanted to comfort Blair, but he wasn't good with words. He slid his free hand up Blair's back, into his hair. The touch was meant to be soothing, but Jim got distracted by the scent released when he lifted Blair's hair away from his skin. He buried his nose in Blair's neck and breathed deeply.

He licked his neck, and Blair arched against him. "Jim, y-you should stop."

"Mmmm, why?"

"Because you don't...I can't...oh, god."

Blair's eyes opened wide as Jim let go of his hand and cupped him, rubbed his palm up and down the length, gently squeezed.

"You still want me to stop?"

Blair's fingers clenched convulsively on Jim's shoulder. "I never wanted you to stop, but you...."

Jim wanted Blair to forget about that, so he lowered his head and kissed him. The initial taste was sour morning breath and the bitterness of whatever drug they'd given him, but beneath that was pure Blair.

While he was searching for the exciting flavor he remembered, longed for, Jim made short work of the tie holding the scrub bottoms closed and slipped his hand beneath the waistband until he held Blair, hot, hard and heavy, in his hand.

Blair's fingers were curled around the back of Jim's neck when he broke the kiss. He lifted his head and looked down into glazed blue eyes that still held a hint of fear.

"Jim, are you sure? You have to be sure, because...."

"I'm very sure, Chief."

"But you, you said...."

Jim reluctantly withdrew his hand from Blair's pants, fixed the waistband to give himself time to think. He hated emotions because they were messy. The only thing worse than having emotions was talking about them. Or so William Ellison had taught him. He'd known for years that the elder Mr. Ellison might have been a good businessman, but he'd sucked as a father. How was it, then, that some lessons were harder to unlearn?

"I, uh, I'm not good at talking, Chief," he started, then braved a glance at Blair's face. His eyes were wide, and he hung on every word. Christ, Jim thought, a man could get used to being looked at like that. "But I need you to know that I, uh, well, I stopped this thing...." He indicated the room surrounding them. "...because I wanted to. You have to know that Dr. Butler wouldn't have done anything to endanger you."

"I know, Jim."

"Okay." Jim nodded. He wished he was done, but knew there was more that needed saying before they could move on. "And what I, uh, what I said before...about not wanting a guide."

Blair's eyes clouded for a moment, but they didn't leave Jim's face.

"That was just, that was my father speaking. He, uh, he always thought I was a freak, and...."

Jim didn't even realize that tears were running down his face until Blair caught one on his thumb. He reached up and wiped them off with the back of his hand.

"Shit. I swore he'd never make me cry again."

"It's catharsis, man," Blair said. "And you're not a freak, Jim, you have to know that."

Jim couldn't look at him, just shook his head.

"Wow, we've got a lot of work ahead of us," Blair said, then lifted his head and kissed him.

When Blair pulled away, Jim reached for him, but Blair batted his hands away. "I have to pee, man."

Jim laughed, and though it was a little choked, it felt good. "Me, too, actually. Somebody decided to lay on my bladder."

Blair grinned as he pushed off the bed. "Sorry."

Jim heard Blair's stomach growl from the bathroom, which brought to mind the bacon and eggs he'd smelled earlier.

"Hey, Chief, how do you feel about some breakfast?"

"I could eat,"Blair said around the toothbrush he'd found in the cabinet above the sink.

After they'd both performed their morning ablutions, and Blair had gotten changed from the scrubs, they sat side by side on the edge of the bed. Jim handed Blair the elastic he'd rescued from the floor of the hotel room, watched understanding light Blair's eyes as he reached out for it. He was smiling as he pulled his hair back and held it in place with the hair tie.

When he was done, Jim reached over and took Blair's hand in his. "You're going back to Cascade, right?"

"Yeah, of course."

"Will you follow me back to my place?"

Blair was silent for a moment, before saying, "Are you sure about this, Jim? I mean, you don't even know me."

"Someone wise once told me that we've got plenty of time for that," Jim said, then leaned over and planted a kiss on lips that curved up in a smile.

Blair laughed against Jim's lips, curled his arm around his neck, and pulled him down onto the bed, where they kissed until both their stomachs reminded them that they still hadn't eaten.

Hoping his lips weren't as swollen as Blair's, Jim took his hand and led him out of the room. He took a left at the corner, nose leading them unerringly in the direction of the cafeteria, and into their future, with whatever it might hold.

End

The Accidental Guide by Spikedluv: [email protected]
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