SHOCK WAVES

Blair Sandburg punched down "play" on the tape deck. A man's voice sounded from the speaker, Yeah? Who's this? Immediately, Detective Jim Ellison's response followed, I saved your ass yesterday.... Blair adjusted the volume and peered up at his partner. "Anything?"

Jim settled himself on the couch, trying to relax into a comfortable position – trying to let his sentinel senses take over as the recording continued to roll. He winced, discouraged. "No. Just the voices."

"Just filter them out," Blair instructed, leaning in close enough to convey reassurance, confidence – avoiding touch. The last thing Jim needed was more stimuli to work around. "Concentrate," he urged. "Try to listen to the background."

Jim nodded and closed his eyes. He let his head fall against the back of the couch, tuning out the voices, dialing them down using the same method Blair had taught him to control pain. Then he heard it – a continuous rusty shriek. Jim's head snapped up. "What was that?"

"What?"

"A high pitched metal against metal vibration."

"Does it sound familiar?"

Jim made a face. "It's a kind of rawwk ... rawwk...."

"What did it sound like?"

"It's –" Jim stopped, caught by the laughter in his partner's eyes. "Oh, man...."

Blair chuckled, the grin he'd attempted to stifle spreading across his face. "A sentinel you may be but Rich Little you are not, my friend."

Jim ran a hand over his face. Anger was his immediate response against frustration but not at Sandburg. He felt tired and beaten. "All right," he murmured, pushing to his feet. "Let's just pack it in."

"C'mon, man, don't give up." Blair watched him walk into the kitchen. The grin washed away. "I was just joking."

Jim poured himself a glass of water from the jug in the refrigerator. He retreated into silence, watching Blair turn off the tape player, then stride towards him, determined. Ice blue eyes narrowed in a not too subtle warning but Blair didn't turn away; he wouldn't back off. Ellison sighed. It was ridiculous to let that please him but it did.

Blair brushed against him, as smooth as fox fur, grabbing a beer from the refrigerator. "Maybe we've been going about this all wrong," he said, twisting the cap off.

"We've got a case to solve," Jim said.

"Absolutely." Blair took a long drink, then stood watching Jim watching him back, bottle dangling between his fingers, weight shifting to one leg. "What happened out there ... it's not your fault. This is Cascade, Jim, not Dodge City. You don't have to be Marshall Dillon all the time."

"Yes I do."

"Okay, Matt. Have it your way." Blair set his beer on the counter. "Turn around."

Jim knew what was coming. He tried not to look as though he welcomed it, then thought, Who are you trying to kid? Bracing his hands on the counter, Blair's fingers locked onto his shoulders, kneading into bunched muscle.

For a time, Sandburg worked in silence. That never lasted long. "Once when I was touring the Tehuacán Valley, our group found this ancient city buried in the jungle," he began. "This massive stone structure just rising up - pow! - out of the growth, all covered in vines as thick as your arm. In some places, they'd twisted together until they looked like tree trunks. They were so tough we would've had to use dynamite to get them loose ... a lot like your back here. Totally amazing."

"Don't bring in the artillery yet, chief." The ghost of a smile tugged at Jim's mouth. "You're doing fine."

Blair's hands slid over his partner's back as he pressed closer, caging their body heat between them. Jim felt his heart beat faster, sensed the answering pulse echo in Blair's touch, a lighter, quicker rhythm.

Ellison hadn't actually wanted anyone in a long time. He had needed ... and given in to that need when the opportunity occurred. Since his return from Peru, there had been an endless procession of women, as well as the occasional man, who would have done anything to win his heart. But there had always been the work and work didn't leave time for relationships.

He had always wanted to be a soldier. "To protect and serve," that allegiance had driven him throughout his life. Whether he followed it into the Army or Special Forces or the Cascade Police Department, it didn't matter. Still, he'd never intended to be so alone.

At one soul-shaking moment, it hit him what a miserable excuse for a life he'd developed. In a panic, he'd latched onto Carolyn. Except she hadn't really latched back ... not like he'd assumed. She'd been a challenge – strong, capable, competent. But she didn't want to be protected, didn't need his kind of love. The qualities that had drawn him to her were the very traits that had left him aching and alone again.

When his marriage dissolved, Ellison had poured himself back into the work again, Detective - Major Crimes, Cascade P.D. As before, when physical need became too much, he found release with no strings attached. He could cope with that. His life became safe and painless.

And empty and lonely.

Now James Ellison wanted – and that surprised him. More, like a Pandora's box of never ending shocks, he found that the one he wanted above all others was his self-proclaimed guide, Blair Sandburg.

And through some crazed twist of fate, it proved that Blair wanted him back. Needed him.

Amazing. Jim dropped his head; his breath escaped in a giant whoosh of a sigh.

"Outstanding." Blair squeezed his shoulders, then circled Jim's body with his arms. He laid his cheek against Ellison's back. "I wondered when you'd remember to breathe again."

Jim smiled. It came easier now. He turned, sliding his arm around Blair's shoulders. Snagged his lover's beer and took a long swallow. "When this is over, chief, I think we should head up to the mountains. We're overdue for some down time. Maybe a long weekend."

Blair peered up at him from under the fall of mahogany curls, concern visible in deep blue eyes. "If you ask me, you could use a vacation now."

"No can do, lover. We've got a case to solve."

"And a live-in reporter camped on our door."

"I don't think we'll have to worry too much about her anymore. Simon's put on the leash. She's got no one to blame but herself." He handed the beer to Blair. Bone weary, he allowed himself to lean against the body at his side and was warmed when Blair's arm tightened around him, a fellow nurturer at work. It was one of the traits they shared.

Still, this close, Jim could literally feel the devious Sandburg mind at work. Something was making those brain cells calypso, even as he held his lover's body. Enjoy it while you can, Ellison. Time's nearly –

"I've got an idea," Blair began a beat before Jim completed his thought. "Why don't we take a vacation right now?"

"Because we have work to do?" Jim suggested.

"No - no - no – I was thinking mini-trip. We need to get away from the guerilla bank robbers and reporters and –"

"And cops being blown up?"

"Exactly." The eyes had gone earnest again. "You push yourself so hard, you'll never get anywhere, man. Just keep slamming the wall. What good is that?"

Ellison wasn't going to get a chance to answer. He didn't even try.

"You need to relax," Blair insisted.

"More breathing exercises?" Jim couldn't stop the grin.

And Blair couldn't stop grinning back. "Actually, I was thinking more along the lines of a little guided imagery. Like a fifteen minute flight of fantasy."

"Fifteen minutes?"

"More or less." Blair waffled his hand. The grin deepened. "Over on the couch. Let's make out."

"What?"

"Remember when you were in school and you'd meet somebody in the stairwell between classes?" Blair enthused. "Or in the locker room after a game. You're groping each other like mad, all the time wondering if you're going to get caught."

"Does the university know about this little hobby of yours?"

"Oh, c'mon Jim ... everybody's done it. It's fun."

"It's stupid."

"Yeah! And mindless, even a little nuts." Blair leaned back to look at him, his voice lowering into a conspiratorial tone. "Didn't you ever go home with a friend, knowing even before you got there that you were both kind of curious, but you didn't even know what for? Then you were in the house, alone ... knowing you're going to be alone for a while, maybe for as long as it takes, but still excited and scared about what you're doing. Like what if his parents come home?" He laughed, a gasp of delight and excitement. "I mean, talk about your turn-on's!"

"His parents?"

"Look around, big guy. I don't see any women here."

"Right." Jim shook his head, intrigued despite himself. "You're off your medication, aren't you?"

"It's seduction, plain and simple. The idea here is to pretend we've never done it before." Blair smoothed his hand across Ellison's shirt front, sliding up across his chest to the join of shoulder and throat and onto the square, hard jaw line. "One of us is probably a little more experienced and knows what he wants ... but he isn't sure how to get it. And the other one is curious but a little uncertain."

"In fifteen minutes?"

"More or less."

"You got a role picked out for yourself here or what?"

Blair shot him a look. "You're the one who likes to be in control, man."

Jim couldn't stop the laugh.

"If you're man enough to do it," Blair continued smoothly. "I might even let you housebreak me."

Sandburg's grin had disappeared but the imp remained, in the well of his dimples and the jut of his chin. He stepped back from Jim, standing with his legs slightly apart, balanced on the balls of his feet. Blair continued to look at him, expectant, his hands dropped to his sides.

Illusion had never played a big role in Ellison's life - at least not until Blair Sandburg, Master of the Instant Fantasy. If universities handed out doctorates in this area, his young partner could have taught the class. Blair's imagination and ability to chameleon himself into any situation had saved his life - their lives - often enough. In the time it took to draw breath, Sandburg could transform into a Desert Storm pilot or become a get-away driver hailing from a proud family of outlaws. As for himself, Ellison didn't care for games; his strategies largely consisted of "see the hill, take the hill." More often than not, he succeeded. But Blair would probably step up and, with enough charm to melt the paint off a hanger deck, claim to be the long lost descendent of the hill's original owners, offering to provide the papers to prove the hill belonged to him.

The bastards who ran covert ops would have welcomed him into their stable with open arms. Forced him in, if he wouldn't come willingly. They had their ways. Ellison never regretted leaving.

Jim touched Blair's face. Even under the shadow of beard, Sandburg looked so young. It was the trust that helped that image, the vulnerability of affection. Don't change, Ellison kept his prayers brief, between himself and whatever deity cared enough to listen. Don't let anything hurt him ... change him.... Let me keep him safe. I'll do anything, just keep him safe.

But when he spoke aloud, Jim said, "You have the most fantastic mouth."

That was true. Blair's lips were beautifully shaped and colored, a generous mouth belonging to a generous man. Jim enjoyed kissing it and did so then.

This was different. Blair remained still under his touch – not passive, more compliant, as if it were the first lover's kiss he'd received – and nothing to be rushed. Jim savored the taste of him, the sensation of that lush mouth against his own. He put his arm around him, drawing him closer. Slid his hand up into his hair, cradling Blair's skull in his palm. The tip of his tongue skimmed Blair's lower lip, probing gently.

Blair didn't move. He let Jim kiss him, holding his ground. Waiting. Watching.

Jim drew his head back, tightened his fingers against Blair's scalp. "Open your mouth."

"People do that?" The question came out seriously, ingeniously innocent. Sandburg was locked into the game.

"They do," Jim assured him in a ragged whisper, leaning in to take him.

Blair's lips parted for him, letting Jim take possession. He raised his hands against Jim's back, a tentative embrace as if he'd never been in the arms of a man before. Gradually, Jim increased the pressure, pulling him up against him until Blair's hands clenched on the back of his shirt. A small sound of longing spilled from his throat. Ellison focused in on the taste of him, the warm, male scent of him, the silken texture of curls against his hand and arm ... the contrast in their size and strength. He could feel the muscles shift in Blair's back and along the front of his thighs. He felt the heat pulse from his groin as his sex thickened, stirring in the layers of cloth between them.

Jim pulled his head away, surprised at how quickly his body responded to this little drama.

Blair smiled back at him. Then lowered his eyes. "That was nice," he said softly.

"Nice? Yeah ... better than nice." Jim took Blair's hand, guiding him back into the living room.

Blair accompanied him willingly enough, then stumbled to a halt before they reached the couch. Jim stopped beside him.

"Is there a problem?"

"I don't know." Blair used his free hand to shove his hair back out of his face. He looked at the couch, then the floor, then somewhere in the vicinity of Jim's chest. He gave a little shrug. "Maybe I should go now."

"You live here," Ellison reminded him gently. "You can't go anywhere."

"Oh. Right. Sorry." The words came out in a very small voice.

"Don't apologize." Jim brushed Blair's chin with his fingers, raising his face to look at him. "This is not just your home, this is your body. I won't do anything to hurt you. Understand?"

"Yeah."

"Trust me?"

Blair regarded him seriously. Trust – genuine trust – wasn't something he accepted easily. He liked people, he wanted to like them and enjoyed being liked in return. But he had graduated magna cum laude from Naomi Sandburg's throw-them-in-the-water, see-if-they-sink school of independence. Lesson No. 1: Trust was something to be earned, not taken for granted.

Blair shook his hair back from his face. "Yeah, Jim. I trust you."

He groaned when Jim took him into his arms again. This game had become a little too real. Fantasy did that sometimes, shattering through the illusions of every day living; it was the voice of the soul.

And wasn't it great that his own particular fantasy came so nicely packaged, both inside and out?

Blair tried not to look smug when Jim led him to the couch. Ellison sat down and pulled him onto his lap. They smiled into each other's face, breathing only a little harder. Blair rested his arm against the back of Jim's neck. He brushed the back of his fingers against Jim's cheek and made a fingertip trail down Ellison's throat to the neck of his shirt. Then blazed a trail back up again, coming to rest at Jim's pulse. Ellison swallowed hard, blinked; then grinned and reached up to run a finger down the short slope of Blair's nose, to his mouth, hovering over the small scar on his chin. Kissed him again.

Excellent.

It wasn't exactly that Blair had entertained active fantasies of macho men – or any other arrogant self-destructive schmuck. Despite his initial excitement over finding what had turned out to be the living embodiment of Burton's notes, the genetically-superior guardian – AND even living out the role he would have played as a member of any ancient tribe – he found it hard to like this guy. Ask him at any point, Blair Sandburg did not like to begin conversations by being slammed up against walls or shaken about like an errant puppy.

Nope, there wasn't much to like about Detective James Ellison. But apparently it appeared that it wasn't necessary to like the arrogant schmuck in order to love him. Damn it.

From the beginning, there had been this actual physical sensation of an electrical field moving between them. Full of static, irritating, even painful at times, until they touched and - zap! - the current connected, cleared and began to flow. It was smooth, easy and very sensual with a nice afterglow that left Blair feeling cleaned out, satisfied ... energized. Like after good sex. Or what good sex was supposed to be, the kind that took your heart as well as your breath.

For months they played a little game of two-member tag team, instinctively finding excuses to create and/or maintain the connection. They found reasons to be together although Jim still hated the testing. But he'd put up with it as much to learn control over his wayward senses as to maintain contact with his guide. With Blair.

It was better once Blair moved into the loft. Closer, continued proximity brought less disruptions in the flow. The current stabilized to a degree – which meant getting Jim back into sentinel training exercises became difficult again. And that, Blair realized, was dangerous. Jim felt that he had found some kind of control; he didn't want to disrupt it. True, the theory held water to a certain extent ... but Jim's home-life was way different from his work-life. What happened if Ellison overloaded during a fire fight? What if he zoned out during some critical moment?

Answer: Jim could be hurt. He could be killed. Sentinels were mortal just like anyone else. Blair pushed for more testing.

Jim balked. Big time. But Blair understood the anger now. Ellison lived in a state of constant pressure, constantly on call; everyone wanted a piece of him. He needed to be in control to do his job. The sentinel enhancements worked like shooting dice; sometimes they hurt as much as they helped. There was fear behind Jim's anger, and frustration. Disappointment, self-reproach. A very real sense of betrayal. The man hurt.

And Blair watched the scene play out day after day, like watching a gerbil run a wheel in a cage.

"What the hell do you want from me?" Jim blazed after a disastrous session followed by a huge temper-tantrum, the worst yet – a catharsis that didn't seem to help. It had been like watching a solar flare touch down in the lab.

"I want what you want." Blair could have said that, coaxed Ellison along like usual. "I want you to be able to control your abilities. Your gift." Blah-blah-blah – blown him off. Like he'd been doing.

But he just couldn't do it anymore. He couldn't watch him suffer like that.

"What the hell do you want from me?" the words stung. Blair watched his friend pace. No caged rodent here. Jim reminded him of the big cats in the zoo, proud, primal, innocent.

Trapped.

Memory surged back in a flash. Blair remembered – he'd been almost four years old, visiting the zoo for the first time with a group of adults and children from the commune they'd been with at the time. It had been a great outing and he'd been having a great time until they'd come to the big cats.

The majestic beasts had been housed in these pit-cave enclosures several feet beneath a pedestrian walkway. Officials said it was a progressive approach. The zoo keepers were trying to maintain a natural setting with tropical foliage and a pool. Except the trees and plants were withered and pocked from the surrounding urban pollution. The pool was stagnant, fouled with bits of trash and leaves.

Both adults and children had fallen into silence, captivated by the big black cat on display. The jaguar paced back and forth, a creature who had once ruled the veldt, now reduced to a pen the size of double-wide trailer.

Kid Sandburg took action at once, climbing over the rail and making like a lizard, grubby fingers latching onto sun-baked stone, heading down into the pit, answering the call he'd found in too human wild eyes, It's okay, I'm coming....

Until some well-meaning, pain in the ass adult had scrambled down behind him, grabbed him up by the cross-straps of his overalls and hauled him back over the fence.

Of course he had promptly started screaming as soon as the grown ups took over. Naomi swept him up into her arms, one of the few times he'd fought against that. Maybe the only time. Total hysteria!

Blair heard the big cat roar as they carried him away but he couldn't make them understand. Couldn't they see how bad he was hurting? Why didn't they help?

Faced with another big cat, Blair understood. Jim could hurt him back. He was scared now in a way he'd never been as a child. Lost with a vocabulary the size of Nevada, two degrees, encyclopedic recall, volumes of published work, a doctorate in progress - Blair couldn't come up with the words to tell his friend what was happening between them.

Not that that would stop him from trying. Sandburg moved forward, hands outstretched - placating - striding into the very personal space of a man who had just trashed the entire lab. (And how was he going to explain that one to the department? He didn't think they'd buy the solar flare hypothesis.) Broken glass crunched beneath his Nikes while Jim glared at him in stone-cold fury. (What to say, what to say?) Blair plowed forward, kicking a piece of equipment out of the way, then caught his foot on an overturned chair. He recovered enough to bang his knee on the table leg, then rebounded into the wall and cracked his elbow. Catching his injured arm up against him, Blair proceeded to slip on the aforementioned glass, zeroing in for an ugly crash landing when Jim caught him.

"Easy there, Nureyev." Ellison held him up. "The auditions are down the hall."

"Damn it! Ow. Ow." Blair stood in a crouched position, alternatively cradling his elbow while trying to rub his knee. "Shit."

"Are you all right?" Jim asked, anger displaced by concern - as well as a certain awe.

"I'm fine." Blair straightened up. Then shook his head. "No. Wait. Cancel that. You scared the hell out of me, man."

"I'm sorry," Jim sighed. "I didn't mean for that to happen. I don't know - I...." He shook his head. "Look, I know you're trying to help. It just isn't working. I just can't.... Sorry about the lab. I'll take care of it."

"Forget it. I've got to tell you something." Blair stayed him, splaying his hand across Jim's chest. They both felt the electric field snap to life around them. Wide lapis eyes behind tortoise-framed glasses gazed up into diamond blue ice. Cautiously, experimenting, Blair slid his hand up across Jim's chest until the palm covered his heart.

The current strengthened. Flowed.

Jim shifted, drawing back but Blair's fingers closed on his shirt, following fast. Instinctive. He rose up on the toes of worn Nikes and kissed Ellison straight on his perfectly bow-shaped mouth.

And Jim let him do it.

"What I want from you," Blair said carefully, "I want to get you home, go to bed and fuck till Christmas."

Ellison looked appropriately stunned. He didn't seem violent, though. No, he saved the violence for labs and bad guys, not neo-hippie, punk, witch doctor anthropologists.

Encouraged, Blair kissed him again. He parted Jim's lips and slid his tongue between them, into him, as if he had every right ... unmistakably carnal, plunging deep and hard, withdrawing slowly.

The heat between them was searing.

Jim kissed him back, answering Blair's promise with an invitation of his own. By the time they broke for air, they were in each other's arms. Jim had his hands on his ass, pulling Blair up against him. Blair pushed back, letting Ellison feel the erection rising between his legs, This is what you do to me....

Jim looked at him, every sense open, focused and on full alert. "Fuck till Christmas?" he swallowed and licked his lips, tasting Blair again. "Sounds like a plan."

"Maybe the fuck-word is a little harsh." Blair shivered under the impact of total sentinel focus. "It's more complicated than that, but anything else sounds - well. Not right. I didn't want you to misunderstand. What I meant. There are things we need to talk about."

"You're trying to tell me you love me."

"I guess ... yeah. I am." Blair swallowed again. "I love you."

"Good." Jim slipped his hand under the mass of mahogany curls, stroking the fine hair at the nape of his neck. "It's nice to know I'm not just another Sandburg conquest."

"Hey, man," Blair protested. "I never –"

Jim kissed him again, an effective silencer. But not for long.

"It's not like that." Blair sucked in a deep breath, determined to finish. "It's easy loving people. Getting them to love you back, getting them to stay, that's the hard part."

He faltered, blushed. For all his continual chatter, Blair was a private man. He'd filled the crazed corners of his life with evasion, prevarication and outright whoppers. It was way easier to samba around a personal issue than hit it dead on. Especially these issues.

Jim crooked a knuckle under Blair's chin, lifting his head again. "I'm not planning to walk away from you, if that's what you're afraid of," he said. "I almost lost you ... first with Kincaid, with Carasco. And Lash.... You don't think I'd cut you loose now? If you were smart, you'd be the one running."

"No." Blair's breath caught in his throat. He tightened his hold, pressing his face into Jim's chest. He couldn't look at him anymore.

Ellison rubbed his back, comforting. "I never asked for this sentinel thing, Sandburg. I wouldn't wish it on a dog." He sighed, a weary sound. "You punch all my buttons. You piss me off. You make me laugh. I can't always guess what you're going to do or say next - and that scares the shit out of me." He shook his head, bemused. "You make me feel. Maybe you're not what I wanted, but you are what I need." Jim grabbed a fist full of Blair's hair and tugged his head back to look at him, eye to eye. "So there's going to be a new rule around here, chief."

"What?"

"Break my heart and I'll kick your ass all the way back to Oz."

They looked at each other for a long time. A crooked grin broke on Blair's face. "In your dreams, tough guy."

Jim planted a kiss on the top of his head. "Spoken like a true smart ass." He turned towards the door, guiding them through the debris, then snagged up their jackets, creaming another row of beakers. Jim kept his hand on the back of Blair's neck as they hit the hallway, his stride lengthening. Striving to keep pace, Blair didn't have breath to talk. He didn't trust himself enough to talk.

The ride back to the loft was intensely quiet. Activities afterwards were intensely not. During an initial lull, Jim asked, "So what are you doing for New Year's?"

And Blair had answered, grinning, "Dunno. Got to check my calendar. You know, it's only spring break."

"Is this part of the sentinel training now?"

"Absolutely."

"Will there be tests?"

"Lots of tests. Lots and lots." Blair reached for him. "I feel a pop quiz coming on right now."

Jim shot him a look, eyebrow arched. "Another one?"

* * *

First times.... Settled on the couch, Blair's weight bearing him down, the memory waltzed through Ellison's head. Laughter hovered on his lips. Sandburg was "letting" him control him? Blair had been in charge almost from the moment he'd snuck into the hospital examination room to inspect - and provoke - his candidate for possible sentinel-ship. Whatever.

He remembered their first time. It should have gone easier. Almost didn't. Back at the lab, Jim had felt the shock of Blair's lips brushing his. The first impulsive, urgent kiss - a genuine sign after months of agonizing speculation. Ellison needed to get them out of there fast or he would have taken him right on the spot without benefit of bed or any other consideration. He had wanted too badly for too long. Why he hadn't wrecked the truck driving back to the loft was a mystery equivalent to truth behind Area 51 or who shot J.R.

Maybe they'd just gotten lucky. Finally. He felt overdue for it. But that was then....

Now Jim's hands and arms stretched up under Blair's t-shirt, exploring familiar territory. He raked his fingers through the thick pelt of chest hair, enjoying the soft, fur-like texture, the play of muscles beneath. He covered Blair's pecs with the palms of his hands, feeling the nipples draw and harden at his touch, catching the tiny ring on the tip of his little finger. Blair's hands came up to guide him as he arched his neck, letting his head fall back on Jim's shoulder. Ellison watched a tiny bead of perspiration form at Blair's temple, followed its trail with his tongue.

Blair squirmed on Jim's lap, sitting back to front now. His hips lifted to thrust, but there was nothing but air. A sharp sound of longing escaped him. "Jim, do something...." His voice came out in a husky rasp.

A low chuckle dropped into Blair's ear. "What's the problem, Gecko-boy? Got another lizard in your pants?"

"Oh, ha and ha."

"Okay, okay ... so what did you have in mind?"

"I don't care. Anything." He tossed his head slowly, his body straining. "Man, I am dyin' here."

Jim chuckled again, devilish, hands moving down. He skimmed the waistband of Blair's jeans. "Gee, I don't know if we should," he teased. "What if your parents come home?"

"You sadistic bastard!"

"I love you, too, darlin' – but watch the language. I might have to wash your mouth out."

Blair made a noise, a cross between panic and passion. "Jim-man, please!"

"You know we've exceeded the fifteen minute deadline."

"You...!" Blair gasped. Laughed. "I will never forgive you for this, Ellison."

He grabbed Jim's hand and brought it to his lips. Obligingly, thrilled, Jim let him take his fingers in his mouth. It was like being engulfed in warm, wet silk. Blair changed tactics, pushing back against Jim's erection, letting it play against the crease of his ass.

"No fair," Ellison choked, caught. He opened his legs wider, spreading Blair open as well, drifting on sensation - losing himself - until sharp little teeth bit into the base of his thumb. Hard.

"Do something!" Blair hissed.

"You're the one who wanted to fool around," Jim accused, reaching for the button on Blair's jeans. "Mini-vacation my ass."

"Man, your ass is going to be very lonely for the next couple of weeks if you don't get it in gear now." Blair wrecked the threat with a giggle. Tried to salvage it. "I am way serious here!"

"Sure you are."

The button gave way. The zipper rasped open. Blair raised his hips and Jim eased his jeans and shorts down. Freed, Blair's cock lifted up against his belly, a deep rose color, weeping pearls of pre-cum at the slit.

Jim reached down to touch him, stroking him lightly, almost reverently. Blair trembled sprawled in his arms, his head rolling back on his lover's shoulder, his fingers clutching Jim's hand. The pale gray t-shirt rode up his chest, his jeans tangled at his ankles, leaving him nearly completely exposed. Utterly wanton. Completely Ellison's.

Like there'd ever been any doubt.

"My God," Jim whispered. "You are so beautiful."

Blair blushed. A shy gasp of laughter fell from his lips. He pulled Jim's arms around him again, needing him close. Wanting to be held. For a moment, that was enough for both of them.

Then they were moving together again, deliberate shiftings guaranteed to bring the fragmented game to a close. Blair lifted enough to let Jim get his pants open, then returned to an active, purposeful and wet exploration of his lover's fingers. He groaned when Jim used that moisture to make him ready.

Jim encircled Blair's waist with his arm, holding his partner/guide/lover steady. Blair bent forward, his hands on his knees, catching his breath as Jim entered him. Bearing down.

Jim's grip shifted to cup Blair's asscheek. "Easy, buddy," he soothed. "Take it easy. We're almost home."

Blair whimpered once. Nodded. His hair swung forward, curtaining his face, exposing his neck and shoulders. He was so ready for this.

Jim caressed flawless skin. He rubbed the center of Blair's back, comforting, easing him down slow, determined not to rush - not to hurt him. Ellison still maintained a very real fear of that. It was same fear that had made him refuse Blair's initial offer of surrender. He'd hurt him then, shoving Blair away. Pulling back. God. The bruises on Sandburg's arms were almost easier to take than the pain in his face.

"It's okay," Blair had said, shifting away. "If you don't want that, we can try something else."

"No!" Jim had barked out, angry with himself. Afraid again and angry about that, too. Feeling Blair retreat from him ... man, he could almost see the walls going up between them.

And maybe, he thought for one horrible instant, maybe that was best.

Sandburg watched him carefully from his retreat on the far side of the mattress. His face had locked onto a neutral expression, but his hand rubbed the welt on his arm.

Ellison couldn't stand it.

"Come back." Jim held out his hand. Saw it shake. Almost drew back again.

Sandburg wouldn't leave him like that no matter what the risk. He edged close again, curling his fingers into the warrior's fist. Jim looked down, his heart jammed in his throat, and studied this small union. Blair's hand was nearly swallowed inside his own, but the thumb moved gently, stroking comfort across Ellison's.

"Jim," Blair whispered. "What's wrong?"

"Wanted you so long," Ellison forced the words out, feeling stupid as well as scared. "Back at the lab, when I knew ... I could have taken you right there. Just –" He shuddered.

"You could have raped me?"

Jim went to stone. Nodded.

"Well, you didn't." Astonishment colored Sandburg's voice. "You couldn't."

Jim's eyes narrowed. His jaw clenched. "I could tear you apart."

"Not in a thousand years." Blair slid closer. "Not in a million ... not even when I leave wet towels on the floor and dishes on the couch. You could never hurt me, Jim. God."

"Blair, I have killed people."

"When it was your job, when there wasn't any other choice. But a rapist – no way, man." Blair shook his head vehemently. "Look, I've been thinking about this. Remember back when Danny Choi died - you lost your senses, they kept cutting out on you. We thought it was because of the trauma. He was your friend, your brother. But you were also fucking up, man. Big time. You didn't just break the rules trying to solve that case, you smashed them." He lifted his shoulders, let them fall. "You paid for it, too."

Jim listened, granite-faced, jaws clenched.

"We keep looking for a logical explanation for your gifts –"

Ice eyes shimmered, gone to fury.

"Yes, gifts," Sandburg insisted, determined. "We talk about genetics and internal enhancements. All that jazz. But don't you see there's as much spirituality to this as science? You've found your spirit guide and there's been this whole thing going on with you and me. It's karma in action, man. You can't do wrong. It won't let you abuse your powers. You can't just ... just rape or hurt someone or kill because you want to." Sandburg was on a roll, hands dancing as he talked, hypnotic. "You're like ... you're Judge Dredd. You don't make the law, you are the law." He sighed, pensive. "That was a great comic, man. A real sucky movie."

"Sandburg, I am not a comic book hero."

"No, but after my thesis is published - who knows?" The grin widened. "Hey, man, we have got to lighten up here. You've got to lighten up."

"Why?"

"Because you've got to laugh. If you can't laugh, the gods will just take you down and grind you up. Man, I refuse to let you turn into some tragic, asshole hero."

Oh yes, Jim thought, we are well and truly deep into the Sandburg-zone here. "Why not?" he asked dryly.

"Because they are fucking tragic, man! Misery is like the key element. Don't you think we get enough of that as it is?" Blair's eyes were huge with appeal. "Besides ... do you know what happens to their sidekicks?" He shook his head, curls dancing around his shoulders. Ended with a shudder. "You don't want to know."

"I wish it were that easy. You have no idea."

Blair fell into silence. Waiting.

"If someone hurt you," Jim said quietly, "I'd kill him."

"No. You couldn't do that."

"I don't have your faith in these so-called sentinel rules. I don't think I could control that."

"Yes, you can. Jim, you've got to stop thinking like that. I don't want to live with that karma on me. I don't want you to live with it.

"Why not?"

"Because I love you," Blair pleaded. "Don't go there, man. Don't let that crap get stuck in your brain, in your heart. Or you can make it happen."

"So I should think happy thoughts?"

"Works for me. Usually." Blair took in a deep breath. Let it out, rolling his eyes. "I cannot believe we are having this conversation. I still don't understand how you're going to turn into this rapist-goon. I mean, we're in bed together because we both want to be here. I kissed you first, remember? We've got almost endless possibilities here. If you don't want to fuck me, all you have to do is say so."

"It's that easy for you?"

"No. It's not easy. Nothing with you is ever easy. Why did I think this might be different?" He struck his forehead with the heel of his hand. "Here's another theory shot to hell! Thanks, Jim."

Ellison shook his head, exasperated. Afraid. He drew his legs up to his chest, circled them with his arms -desperate to shut down. No, this wasn't going the way he wanted. Nothing ever did. And now he was losing Sandburg, too. He pressed his head against his knees. He didn't want to feel anything.

But he couldn't close himself off. Blair wouldn't let that happen. The warmth of his body lapped against him like a sun-baked wave. Sandburg was so close, his arm braced around Jim's back, trembling against him. Laughing at him, Jim was sure. Ellison jerked up, ready to lash out ... and was captured by tear-spiked lashes instead. Compassion beamed from those smoke blue eyes. He saw the laughter, too – or, rather, the hope of it. God, he had wanted this to work so bad....

"Don't do this to yourself, Jim," Blair murmured. "Don't do this to me...."

Jim had finally relaxed and held him back, losing himself in his partner's arms. Letting Blair comfort him, take care of him. He pushed his face into a slimly muscled shoulder. "It's too much. I want too much." The words ripped out of him. "God, what if I lost it – if I zoned out?"

"Then I eat standing up for a couple of weeks?" Jim's body lurched in his arms. Was that a sob or a laugh? "I'm not scared of you, Ellison."

"Oh yeah? Well, you should be."

Blair met his gaze, that tough-cop look, ice-eyes that looked a hundred years old. Eyes that had seen too much.

"If you want to go back to the way we were before, okay," Blair said carefully. "We can try to do that ... but think about it. Our lives change so fast. You've got drug dealers on East Main, I've got Malaysian Death Cults, live and in person. We could be killed in a minute, either one of us - or both. So you want to stop everything because you're too scared or too proud? You're not going to be the perfect lover, the perfect provider? I don't need perfect - I'm insecure enough as it is. But I won't give up on you, Jim. Don't you give up on me. Will it really kill you to tell me you love me?"

They stared at each other, soldier and scholar – absolutely terrified.

"Haven't you been listening to me?" Ellison growled through clenched teeth. "If I didn't love you, I swear I'd have to wring your neck."

"Ah ... romance!" Blair's face dimpled with his grin. A tear tracked down his cheek. "I hang on your every threat and snarl." He wrapped his arms and legs around Ellison's stone-hard body, lying his head over Jim's. "Oh, man ... it's going to be okay...." Blair rocked him tenderly. "Not perfect, but okay."

They had been okay. They kept being more okay. And some weeks later, when Jim was able to take Blair the way they both wanted, that was okay, too. It felt right. It was good. No one was hurt.

Even now with both of them locked together on the couch, Jim found it hard to comprehend the extent of Blair's bedroom expertise. He suspected that not all of those lessons had come easy – like the lesson they'd shared together. But one thing was certain, Jim never underestimated him again.

Blair sighed, settling back against his partner, joined to him now, wanting to prolong the moment before they finished.

Jim ran his hands down Blair's arms, fingers digging into his flesh. He captured Blair's wrist and tightened his fist around him. It didn't hurt but the pressure was enough to startle him. Curious, Blair turned wide eyes to Jim's.

Ellison was smiling that devil's smile again. "Feel that?" His breath fanned Blair's cheek. "That's how tight you are when I'm inside you."

Blair swallowed, at a loss for words. Jim shuddered, feeling the flush of heat blossom over Blair's skin; the rush of musk slammed his senses like a drug.

Need overcame them both. Rider and ridden, they moved together. The position wasn't much for thrusting but the penetration was deep and hot. Jim took Blair's cock in his hand again, stroking him hard. Blair groaned under the assault and shoved back. Thought and control burned away.

It didn't take long. Ellison felt the shift in Blair's pulse the instant before he came, crying out Jim's name. That was all he needed to reach his own orgasm, bursting into taut, slick heat. When it was done, Jim dropped to his side, bringing Blair with him, to lie curled together, still joined, breathless, shaking. Holding each other. Jim massaged Blair's seed into his skin.

When he could think again, Blair snuggled back against his lover. He was nearly curled in a ball, his head tucked under Ellison's chin. His lips moved, murmuring words no other man would have noticed.

"What?" Jim asked, half-dazed.

"I said, 'Thanks, Jim.'"

"You're welcome. You okay?"

"Very. Thanks, Jim." He sighed. Shifted. "Hey, thug-buster – ready to take a bite out of crime?"

"I should take a bite out of you. You bit me!"

"Yeah - but you love it."

"That's no excuse."

They disentangled slowly, raising up. Blair's shirt dropped back to his hips. He bent over to wrestle his jeans into order. Jim eyed him specutively. It was too tempting a target.

"Ow!" Sandburg shrieked, indignant.

"Yeah." Ellison grinned, all innocence. "But you love it."

"You say." Blair grappled with his pants. "I'm going to clean up." He paused, dropping a kiss onto Jim's head. "Be with you in a minute."

Ellison reached out, caught the back of Blair's thigh in his hand. You're always with me, chief.... He stroked the long muscle through denim. They smiled at each other, faces flushed, eyes heavy-lidded. Smug with satisfaction.

"How do you feel now?" Blair asked, grinning.

"Great." Ellison gave his butt another, softer slap, sending him on his way. "Don't be too long, buddy. We've still got a case waiting here."

Blair waved him off, heading towards the bathroom. "In a minute."

Their energy filled the room, along with the pungent aroma of sex and the afterglow of heat. Waiting his turn for the bathroom, Jim felt the current stretch between them, powerful, vibrant. He listened to the ordinary noises Blair made, filling the loft with the clatter of life. Twenty-seconds of almost silence ... twenty-five ... twenty-six....

"So where do you want to go when this is all over?" Blair called out. "The mountains? Up to the lake?"

Twenty-six seconds, almost a record. Jim Ellison laughed softly. "Any place is okay with me," he called out. As long as it's with you....