Author's disclaimer: I SO don't own them. Wish I did. Do I really have to live with this sad fact, or can I pretend that I'm really a multi-millionaire? Darn it anyhow.

Author's notes: After I wrote "Man, I Feel Like a Woman", I was bombarded by a lot of wonderful LoC's that said I'd done an excellent job of putting Blair in a dress and heels. Then Lisa, Duncan's Twin, suggested that Jim would look good in gold lame'. And fishnet hose. And hells bells, a story was hatched.

Thanks go to Lisa for clothing help. Thanks go to Elizabeth Shaw for make-up tips, since I know absolutely NOTHING about the stuff, even though I'm a grown woman, and still sadly lacking in this area of femme expertise.

Dedicated, of course, to my lovely ladies: CatMoran, Mary Shukes, Lisa Duncan's Twin, and my darling Patt Rose. And, of course, to everyone who helped me on this. So what if it's five months late?

Chantilly Lace

"Chantilly Lace, had a pretty face; a ponytail, a-hangin' down; a wiggle an' a walk, an' a giggle an' a talk, make the world go 'round, 'round, 'round..." -- The Big Bopper

"I'm WHAT?!"

Many heads swiveled at the bellow that came from Simon's office. Normally, this wouldn't cause the surprised expressions that flittered among the detectives and other staff in the bullpen, but this time, the incredulous, angry shout had not come from the esteemed noisy Captain, but from his best detective, James Ellison.

Inside the Captain's office, Simon Banks sighed tiredly as he regarded said best detective. Jim Ellison was one of his closest friends now that he'd lightened up and shaved off that chip on his shoulder he'd been carrying around. But right at that moment, he bore an eerie and unflattering resemblance to the Ellison of three years ago who had transferred to his unit from the Vice Squad, and Simon was not happy with this. "Jim, I know it sounds bad, but we have no choice!"

"Oh, really." The Sentinel's tone was sub-arctic and decidedly uncompromising.

"Yes, really, dammit! The Mayor himself put me on this and you know the elections are coming up and he wants every vote he can get. He's an oily, greedy, unprincipled bastard; he has 'politician' written all over him! Unfortunately, he's a politician with power. That means if he says 'jump', not only do we ask 'how high' but we also do a double gainer all the while so our lips can stay planted on his ass! Now, I don't like this any better than you do, but you fit the bill for what the killer likes. The Mayor wants the man the media has dubbed the 'Cross-dressing Cutthroat' arrested and heading to prison like yesterday. So you, my friend, and the rest of us assigned to this case, are going to have to swallow our pride and tart ourselves up. You hear me, Detective?"

Jim growled quietly and dropped into the chair in front of Simon's desk tiredly. "Great, just great. Some insane asshole that likes transvestites - big, strong, strapping transvestites - has gotten it into his head to go around murdering the ones he picks up. Why? Because he has issues about the whole thing. And I just happen to fit the bill. Of course, so does Robertson down in Homicide and of course, Manero and Georges down in Vice. Simon, this wouldn't be some sort of power play on our dear Mayor's part, would it?"

"Looks that way, Jim. Of course, it could probably be avoided if you'd kiss ass occasionally, but seeing as how that would taste with your senses, I suppose I can understand the vehemence against it." Simon offered a tired grin.

Jim frowned, concerned. The Captain had worked a double-shift twice this week and it was really starting to show. He didn't like seeing his friend so run down. "Are you okay, Simon?"

"Yeah, yeah. I'm fine, just exhausted. Believe me, I'm going to bug out of here early and get some sleep. Finkleman has been called in to sub for me tomorrow, so I'll be sleeping late in order to get rested up for this little jaunt."

Ellison's eyebrows raised at that. "Really? What's your part in all this, Simon?"

The bigger man paused for a moment, then looked his detective straight in the eye with a look that dared Jim to laugh or say anything untoward. "I'll be going as your date."

Total silence.

Two minutes later, Jim finally cleared his throat and said in a suspiciously shaky voice, "You what, Simon?"

"I'll be your date and my name will be Simone. Not terribly original, but then again, I get a special dispensation. I get to go in butch and not tottering around on heels. Unlike somebody I happen to know," Simon replied with a smug grin as he leaned back in his chair.

"Fuck," Jim hissed.

"No, that won't enter into it at all. However, here's a special surprise for you. Not only will Rafe be along as a 'single', but your partner has been included in this assignment as well. Blair will be installed as a bartender, so he'll be there to do his usual amazing thing of talking up a storm and still noticing things only an Anthropologist would understand. Oh, and in case you zone, but the Mayor doesn't know about that. What he does know is that Sandburg is part of the best team in the department, and so he's in, and that's that."

"No." Jim sat up then, looking very concerned then. "Simon, no. I don't want him involved in this."

Simon's eyebrows rose. "You don't? Jim, I'm surprised. Why not? Blair won't be in heels either, but he'll be very femmed up - not that it'll take much. But why don't you want him there? This is going to be a transvestite club; I should think you'd want your Guide there to back you up in case your senses whack out or something."

Jim shook his head vehemently. "He'd also make a good target. You know how his luck runs, Simon! The killer'd take one look at him, decide he's too pretty to pass up, and that'll be that!"

"Too pretty? Jim, you don't even know what he'll look like until we officially start the assignment! Hell, he doesn't even know yet, for which I'm thankful because you get to be the one to break it to him. So what do you mean, too pretty?" Simon demanded.

Ellison shook his head and slumped back in his chair. He had said a little too much, he knew. The last thing he wanted anyone to find out, especially his erstwhile partner, was how much Jim desired said partner.

Banks gave his detective a long, hard stare, then sighed again and shook his head. "Jim, Sandburg is in on it and that's that. You are, too. I don't wanna do this, don't want any of us to do this, but if it'll help catch that killer, then we're going to do it."

"Sir, yes sir," Jim said, and got to his feet. "Will there be anything else?"

"No. Tell your partner about it and then tell him that he's to get himself down to the club - it's called The Doll House, by the way - tomorrow morning to meet with the manager so they can set up the details of his bartending. I'll stop by with your outfit tomorrow around one o' clock; we can get dressed there so we can avoid some embarrassment. Rafe says he can handle things at his house."

"How is Rafe handling this, Simon?" Jim asked with a small grin.

Simon started chuckling. "I've never seen a man go so pale so quickly before. For a moment, I wondered if he was going to pass out on me."

Jim laughed then. "If that's all, I'm going to get out there and finish up some paperwork, then go home and drop the bomb on my partner."

Waving to his door, Simon nodded and said, "Go on, get out of here ... girlfriend."

Ellison growled something unintelligible as he left and the Captain didn't know whether to be grateful or frustrated that he didn't have Sentinel hearing.

"Chief? C'mon, Blair, say something," Jim pleaded quietly. He stood in front of his friend, staring down at the totally still, wide-eyed, uncommunicative young man. He'd just told Sandburg about the assignment and now his Guide looked as though he were having a zone-out.

Blinking, Blair shook his head a moment, then peered up at his friend incredulously. "Transvestites?" he squeaked.

Jim nodded, relieved that his partner was speaking again. "Transvestites."

Sandburg was silent again and just when Jim was starting to again worry about him, Blair grinned at him and asked, "Is there something about me that everyone automatically pictures me when drag queens come into a conversation?"

Startled, Ellison began laughing and he indulged himself in a brief hug, pulling the younger man close against him for a moment before letting him go. He wandered into the kitchen and opened the fridge, pulling out a couple of beers and handing one to Blair, who had followed him. Shaking his head after taking a drink, Jim said, "No, not really. Simon did make the joke that it won't take much to tart you up, but you won't be wandering around in heels, remember? You're going to be a bartender, so that means you have to have reliable footwear. You get to wear pants on this little outing."

Blair paused, then grinned again. His blue eyes sparkled mischievously and Jim had to think for a moment, but then he groaned as he realized what he'd just said. He held up a hand to forestall anything his Guide might say. "Don't say it! Just don't say it."

"Say? Me? Nah," Blair teased, then snickered before taking a drink of his beer.

"Anyway," the older man said, glowering for a moment before relaxing again, "tomorrow morning you have to get down to The Doll House for your 'interview'. Around one o' clock, Simon's gonna stop by with his and mine outfits and we'll get ready here. You will have to be at the club and get ready there, so we'll meet up when we get there." Jim sighed then and caught Blair's gaze with his. "You know the drill, Chief. Keep your eyes and ears open and your mouth shut. Try not to attract too many weirdoes, okay?"

Sandburg glared at his Sentinel, then grinned teasingly. He struck a pose then, hips canted and body poised seductively, and said throatily, "Hey, sugar, if ya got it, flaunt it!"

Jim choked on the mouthful of beer he'd just swallowed and the next few minutes were spent in backslapping, coughing, and Blair apologizing profusely for making him laugh when he shouldn't have. Ellison let that go, not wanting his friend to know that he'd choked because his throat had constricted with a sudden surge of desire.

Finally, everything calmed down and the two of them eventually sat side by side on the sofa with their beers and a bowl of hot, buttery, salty popcorn as they watched the Jags play off against a visiting team.

"Ellison, open up!" Simon yelled through the front door of Apartment 307. "There's no way in hell you can't know I'm out here!"

Jim grimaced, aware of his roommate's wide, anticipatory grin, and reluctantly opened the door. "Hello, Simon. Come on in," he grumbled.

"About damn time," the larger man growled as he stomped through the doorway and into the apartment. He stopped when he saw Blair sitting casually on the arm of the couch, grinning at him. "Shit," he muttered, then pointed a stern finger at the young anthropologist. "Don't you start with me, Sandburg! I'm not in the mood for it!"

Blair's eyebrows winged up, then he raised his hands in surrender. "Not starting anything," he said quietly, his enthusiasm dimming, and he got up and wandered off into his bedroom, leaving Simon feeling as though he'd just kicked a happy puppy for no good reason.

Jim glared at his boss as he came to stand next to the bigger man. Simon shrugged and grimaced apologetically. He handed the clothing bags and a duffel bag to the Sentinel and said, "Wait here." He walked over and knocked on the French doors, waiting until he heard the muffled, "Come in," before opening them and stepping inside.

Blair glanced up from where he sat at his desk, his laptop powering up. "Yes, sir?" he asked calmly.

Banks sighed. "Blair, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you; it was unfair of me."

A moment later, the Captain was treated to one of the famous warm "Sandburg" grins. "That's okay, Simon. I understand."

"Good. Glad we have that settled," Simon grumbled, then turned and made his way back out into the living room, where a much calmer Jim was going through the bag of clothing, taking out his outfit and supplies while Blair trailed the captain out into the room.

Holding up a piece of cloth, he looked at it from all angles and said, "What the hell is this?"

"That's a gaff; it keeps your 'boys' tucked up out of the way so they don't dangle prominently," Blair supplied.

The other two men looked at him.

The smaller man shrugged. "What? I have transvestite friends. I got curious and asked what they wear and so on."

"Yeah, and I bet you did a research paper on it, too," Jim muttered.

"How'd you guess?"

"You mean you did?" The detective was frankly incredulous.

"Sure; why not? It was a good look at different cultures for my anthropology classes. Got an A+, too."

Jim shook his head as he rummaged through the rest of the things. "Only you, Sandburg. So, what was it about?"

"Well, transvestism, of course. Transvestism is 'the practice of wearing the clothing of the opposite sex for emotional or sexual expression.' Transvestism doesn't include all the examples of wearing such clothing, however. Cross-dressing differs from transvestism in that it's done for different reasons; a person cross-dresses to make a comment on society or to entertain. Cross-dressing is not usually referred to as transvestism."

"So, the media calling this guy the 'Cross-dressing Cutthroat' is basically wrong and an even bigger insult than we originally thought?" Simon asked.

"You got it. Transvestites tend to perceive themselves either as women with masculine inclinations, or as men with similar feminine tendencies. For some, transvestism is limited to using the clothing of the other gender to elicit sexual excitement. However, for more transvestites, sexual behavior is involved only slightly or not at all; instead, the transvestite gains emotional satisfaction from dressing in the clothing of the opposite sex. Transvestites often describe their behavior as expressing those aspects of the identity and roles of the other gender that they feel are important aspects of their self-definition."

"Man, this is way more than I wanted to know," Simon grumbled.

"Yeah, no kidding," Jim agreed. "Kid's got a psychological profile and a reason for why everyone does everything."

"That comes in handy with your closure rate, detective," the captain added as a subtle reminder.

"Uh-huh. No arguments." Jim gathered up all his stuff and got ready to head upstairs to dress. "Just watch your back in there, sir, or you may wind up with the entire club after you for a date and a late evening!"

Simon glowered at his best detective, but Blair spoke up again.

"Actually, transvestism isn't a reliable indication of sexual orientation; it doesn't necessarily involve giving up one's original gender identity as a woman or man. Transvestism occurs among both sexes, but it's more common among men than among women and more common among heterosexuals than among homosexuals. Yes, really. Just because some guys put on a skirt doesn't mean they're out to get other guys to bend over. Most of my transvestite friends are in a happy relationship with women. Really, in some cultures transvestism is an accepted behavior, with members of the population adopting the identity of the opposite sex. One example is the berdaches, people in some Native American groups who assume the role of the opposite sex, including dress. In other cultures and historical periods, transvestism was considered deviant behavior."

"It's considered that way by a lot of people here and now, Sandburg," Simon growled.

"I know that current scientific opinions about transvestism are divided, but I think that's wrong, man. Some see transvestism as a symptom of failed gender socialization; others view it as a normal expression of the desire to blur the social distinctions between women and men. Similarly, some psychiatrists view such behavior as symptomatic of maladjustment and requiring treatment, while others believe that treatment is appropriate only if the person experiences conflict or disturbances in his or her social or professional life. Like I said, that's just wrong, I think."

"So you don't have a problem with going to this club all dolled up and having other guys hit on you? Damn, you should be the one in the skirt, then. Simon..." Jim said, turning to his captain in order to make a plea, but the bigger man shook his head with a grin.

"Nothin' doin', Ellison. It's too late now to change anything," the captain said with a satisfied smirk.

"Guys, its cool, really. Cross-dressing has a long history, going back at least to ancient Greece. It was often a ritual practice during festivals or religious ceremonies. Cross-dressing is still common during carnivals such as Mardi Gras." When the cops turned to look at him, Blair nodded. "You heard me. In that context cross-dressing is a parody of social customs and social ethics, particularly as they relate to gender roles. Cross-dressing is also a means for providing comic entertainment and is a socially acceptable medium for transposing gender roles. A rich tradition in Western literature utilizes the differences and confusions that can result from transvestism. You've heard of them before; like William Shakespeare's As You Like It and such films as Some Like It Hot in 1959, Victor/Victoria in 1982, and Mrs. Doubtfire in 1993."

Jim and Simon looked at each other, then grinned, sighed, and shook their heads.

"What? Hey, guys, come on!" Blair pleaded as the two men separated to go change.

"Wait here, Sandburg, we'll be out in a few minutes," Jim said, grinning, as he went up the stairs to his bedroom.

The guide blinked as the French doors to his room slammed shut with a click of the lock as Simon disappeared inside. Going over, he knocked on it as he said, "Hey!"

"Shut up, Sandburg! I need something more spacious than that bathroom of yours. Now butt out before I arrest you for impeding an investigation!"

"All right, all right! Just be careful about the laptop, will you, man?"

"Yeah, yeah," Simon's voice grumbled.

Grinning, Blair went into the kitchen and fixed himself a snack, as well as a pot of fresh coffee, digging out the stash of gourmet stuff they kept hidden in the cupboard for those times when Simon was staying for a long while at the loft.

It wasn't long before Blair heard, "SANDBURG!" bellowed from Jim's bedroom.

Loping up the stairs and pausing at the top, the guide said, "Jim? You okay up here?" Then he yelped as he found himself being grabbed and yanked forcefully into the bedroom to land with a bounce on the bed.

From below, Simon's voice yelled, "Whatever you two are up to up there, knock it off! We have a stake-out to deal with!"

Jim grimaced, glared at the floor, and then flicked a finger in Simon's general direction before turning his attention to his guide. Pausing for a moment to enjoy the sight of the other man spread out breathlessly on the mattress, looking up at him with wide eyes, Jim finally said, "I need your help, Chief."

Sitting up, carefully keeping his gaze on Jim's face and not the rest of his nude body, Blair nodded. "Sure, man. What's wrong?"

"It's this gaff thing. I can't get it situated right. Will you ... oh, hell, this bites ... will you help me get it on?" Jim's voice told Blair how hard it was for him to ask for this help; Jim's expression told Blair that if he ever breathed a word of it or showed amusement about this predicament, it would be the last thing the young guide ever did.

"Sure, man, no problem." Getting up off the bed, Blair moved to crouch down beside his sentinel. "Okay, Jim, spread your legs a little bit here and relax. It'll be over in a minute."

Closing his eyes, Jim sighed and struggled to contain his embarrassment and arousal at the fact that his friend and guide was going to be touching him intimately. He frowned when he heard Blair breathing in hard puffs. "Chief? What's going on?"

"Nothing, man. Just trying to warm my hands up. I don't wanna touch 'Big Jim and the Twins' with cold fingers; last thing I need is you clocking me for giving you a chill zone!" Blair teased.

At that, Jim opened his eyes and shifted so he could look down at his friend. "I would never hit you, Blair. Especially for this."

Giving his partner a gentle smile, Blair said quietly, "I know, man. I was only kidding."

"Don't kid about that. It's not funny."

"Okay. Ready? Here we go."

Jim closed his eyes again and held onto his restraint as one of Blair's sturdy, square hands reached between his legs and gently cupped his penis and balls. A bit of judicious shifting and his genitals were tucked up safely and carefully against his body. A moment later, the gaff was slid up and into place and Jim's privates were cradled snugly in the confining cloth.

"All right, man. Test it out and try walking. And I don't mean your usual ball-swinging swagger. Walk like you do through the bullpen when you're attempting to get to your desk during a busy day," Blair said.

Nodding, Jim turned and walked around his bedroom, not strolling, not with a super-fast stride, but a normal, steady pace that kept his hips in line and not low-slung and rolling. When he returned to Blair's side, he nodded again and said, "They're fine; no problem. Thanks, Chief."

"Sure, Jim. Need me to stay for anything else?"

Oh, you have no idea, Jim thought to himself silently. He paused to consider it, then said, "No, don't think so. The rest of this stuff I've seen how women get into; I can handle it on my own. Thanks anyway."

"Sure. When you guys are ready, I'll help do your make-up. I had to learn how at my 'interview', so I can do that," Sandburg replied.

"Got it. I'll meet you and Simon downstairs."

Nodding, Blair turned and made his way downstairs, where he got down coffee mugs and stared sightlessly at the wall. Oh, my God, he thought to himself. How I ever kept from popping a boner and coming in my pants is beyond me. Oh, hell. That reminded him. Keeping his voice low so Simon couldn't overhear from the bedroom, Blair said, "Jim? Listen to me, okay? Don't take this wrong, but while you're on this assignment, you're going to have to do your best to keep from getting excited. The adrenaline levels and all being what they probably will be, you gotta find some way to keep your cool. With your 'boys' tucked back like that, it won't do you any good if you pop a boner. Got it?"

"Got it," Jim's voice called back, resigned and stoic.

Blair nodded, then walked over to the French doors with a mug of coffee. Knocking, he said, "Simon? Got some coffee for you, man."

One side of the doors opened a fraction, enough to allow Simon's arm to come through and snatch the mug, then disappear back inside. The door shut firmly and Blair turned to go back into the kitchen. He paused when he heard, "Thanks, Sandburg! This is good!"

Grinning, he called back, "You're welcome, Simon!" then continued on.

Half an hour later, both men emerged from their prospective hidey-holes and Blair got a good look at them, his eyes widening and his mouth slowly parting.

Simon wore slightly loose black leather pants that clung to him in all the right places, out-lining his assets. On his feet were shiny patent leather shoes. Tucked into his pants was a black mesh knit crew T-shirt that clung to him comfortably. All in all, the captain of Major Crime was stylin', especially when he paused to pull on the black leather blazer that went with his ensemble.

"Wow," Blair murmured. "Simon, you look great. Why don't you dress like this more often?"

Banks shot the younger man a glare. "Because I happen to prefer a more conservative and elegant style of dress, Sandburg."

"Yeah, but ... man, you look good. You might wanna think about changing your image; you'll get lots more dates this way. Hey, where are your glasses?"

"I'm wearing contacts. This way, I can show off my make-up better," came the irritated mutter, along with a pointed glance in Blair's direction.

"Yeah, no problem, man; I can help-" Blair started to say, then choked off as Jim came down the stairs.

Long, muscled legs encased in black fishnet pantyhose and black heeled shoes flashed as the tall man slowly and carefully made his way down the stairs. A black leather skirt clung to hips and buttocks and thighs, with a silver chain link belt draped around said hips. And on his upper body was a gold lame' halter-top that clung, moving up his rippled abdomen and over those powerful pecs, to loop up around behind his neck, leaving his back bare. And on his head was a wig of hair that fell straight to shoulders, the color of a dark cherry. The analogy of which made Blair want to blush and snicker at the same time.

Simon found himself staring at his detective goggle-eyed. While it was obvious that Jim was a man, it was also obvious that he looked good and could actually look like a woman if a little more effort was put into the disguise. Shaking himself out of those thoughts, he went to the kitchen to get another cup of coffee.

Jim strode up to Blair and paused so his friend could look him over. When Blair said nothing, simply stared at him, the sentinel demanded, "Well?"

"Well, what?" Sandburg said distractedly.

"Is it good enough?"

Blair blinked and then grinned and nodded. "Yup. You'll do just fine. Except..."

"Except what?" Jim asked, a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach taking place.

"The wig."

"What about it? The color not right? It's on crooked? What?"

"No, and no. It's fine. It just needs a bit of tweaking. Wait there a moment." Blair went into his room and rummaged through his desk for a long moment, then came back with a hair clip and a few pins. "Sit down and let me take care of this."

Jim sat in a chair with a sigh and relaxed as best as he could, letting his friend sweep the hair of the wig back and up, twisting it into a French Twist and securing it with the clip and pins. He shivered slightly at the feel of Blair's fingertips ghosting over his neck and ears, situating the hair, and then the younger man stepped back.

"Perfect!" Sandburg declared. "What about jewelry? You gonna wear earrings?"

Jim shook his head. "If the killer makes a play for me, I don't wanna give him anything he can rip out that will cause major pain."

"I get it. But that's an awful lot of bare skin, man. You sure you don't want something-"

"Sandburg, that's the whole point. Now stop playing Martha Stewart and start putting some make-up on me."

Blair snickered. "You got it, man. Oh, shit, I hope this does not cause an allergic reaction!"

"It won't. My make-up kit is one that is kept on hand for people with allergic reactions. This is all non-allergy stuff. And I'll keep my touch dialed down to just below normal, okay?"

"Yeah, I guess so. Now, let's get crackin'. Where's the - ah-ha. Just relax, Jim." So saying, Blair moved off and gathered a few supplies from the bathroom.

"You don't look half bad, Ellison," Simon commented. "Of course, you also look weird, but-"

"You know where my ass is, sir. Make an appointment and kiss it," Jim shot back.

Simon snorted and went back to drinking his coffee as Blair came back, scooting the make-up kit down the table to rest at the end.

"You know, it's a good thing I know enough about how to do this. I'm afraid you guys would be too jittery if you had to do it down at The Doll House," Sandburg commented, handing a warm, wet washcloth to Jim.

"What do I need this for?" Ellison asked.

"To clean your face with. All accumulated dirt and sweat has to be wiped off, first. It works better that way, I dunno why. It's not like I wear this stuff," the younger man replied.

Sighing, Jim wiped down his face and then rested the damp cloth on the place-mat on the table. Tilting his face up, he waited expectantly.

"Okay, we're not doing the whole shebang here, just the basics. Eye-shadow, eye-liner, mascara, lip-liner, and lipstick. Relax, fellas, I'll have you all dolled up in no time!" Blair laughed.

Jim reached up, grabbed Blair's shirtfront, and yanked him down so that their faces were very close together. "Just get on with it, Sandburg!" he growled menacingly.

"Uhhhh, right; right! Getting on with it," Blair stammered, and when Jim let him go, he straightened up quickly and reached for the eye-shadow. "Ready? Here we go."

Opening up the eye-shadow kit, he perused the selection for a moment, then finally picked up the tiny brush and chose a pale gold color. He got a good coating on the tip of the brush and carefully brushed it on Jim's left eyelid from his eyelashes to his eyebrow when the sentinel had closed his eyes. It was very neatly done and then he did the same for the right side. Stepping back, he looked at it critically, then used the other end of the brush and this time chose a pale blue color. He gently slid the brush over the lower part of the lid just above the lashes on both eyes. "Open your eyes, Jim," he murmured, and picked up a navy blue eye-liner pencil.

"Oh, hell, is that really necessary?" Jim whined when he saw it.

"Yup. Now, roll your eyes back into your head and dial your touch all the way down to nothing. You've got it easier than other guys; you can do that so you won't cry your eyes out," Blair said, grinning.

"Damn, that's what I have to look forward to?" Simon grumbled from his newly chosen spot at the table from where he was watching the proceedings.

"And me, and Rafe. Don't worry, Simon, we'll be in the same boat as you," the observer replied.

Jim did as his guide instructed and within moments the navy eye-liner was applied. When he tried to squeeze his eyes shut after dialing back up, Blair stopped him. "Dial back down, Jim; I need to apply your mascara now."

The sentinel sighed again and once again opened his eyes wide, let them roll back, and dialed down his touch sense to almost nil. Quickly, the black mascara was applied and Blair smiled and stepped back. "Okay, man, we're done with your eyes. Blink them a few times; don't squeeze them shut tight, or you'll smudge - damn, that reminds me - but blink just enough to let things mesh." Reaching over, he grabbed up a Q-tip he'd brought from the bathroom. When Jim was done blinking, he leaned in and very lightly smudged the outlines of all the eye make-up enough to blend them in seamlessly. When he was done, he stepped back, studied his friend, and grinned.

"Wow, Jim," he said at last. "I always thought you had pretty eyes, but this is really doing wonders for them."

Jim glared, unaware of the fact that his eyes were indeed quite extraordinarily lovely due to the make-up highlighting them, and snapped, "Get on with it, will you, Sandburg?!"

Blair lost his grin and sighed. "Sure, man. Hold on a second and we'll figure this out."

He turned away to put all the eye make-up stuff away, then turned back at the touch on his arm. He found Jim looking up at him apologetically. "Jim?"

"I'm sorry, Chief. I'm just uptight about all this. I know you're trying to help. Forgive me?" Jim asked quietly, his eyes pleading.

Blair grinned. "Sure, big guy, no problem."

"Well, that's nice," Simon butt in. "Now, if you're done with your little heart and soul-fest, can we get on with this? We have a murderer to catch!"

"Yes, sir!" the two men replied, and then laughed.

Simon sighed, shook his head, and contemplated his coffee.

Working quickly, Blair picked up a dark rose lip-liner and had Jim turn his lips out in a pout. He carefully applied it, grinning and wiping away his mistakes with a Q-tip when he had to, and then picked up the lipstick that would go with it when he'd finished with the liner. It was a medium-pink color with heavy tints of brown in it; not too dark and not too light. Just right for his skin tone. Holding Jim's face steady with one hand, he applied the lipstick firmly, but not too heavily. When that was done, he studied the effect and nodded, grinning hugely. "Oh, yeah, man! Lookin' good. Hell, I'd kiss you myself!"

Jim's eyes widened. "You what?" he nearly squeaked.

"Uh ... uh, nothin', man. Just ... saying you look good, okay? Chill," Blair stammered out, and turned away to pick up the blush, which was a shade lighter than the lip-liner.

Ellison sat quietly as the brush was slid gently along his cheekbones, staring pensively up at his roommate. He wasn't quite sure what to make of that statement, but he'd have to do some testing pretty soon.

Finally, Blair was done. He packed up the make-up kit and then stepped back. "Voila! Simon, what do you think?"

The captain took a close look and then nodded, grinning with satisfaction. "Very well done, Sandburg. He looks professionally done up. I feel better about allowing you to do my make-up."

"Thanks, man." To Jim, he said, "Go look in the mirror, big guy."

Ellison got up from his seat and slowly walked to the bathroom, feeling Blair's eyes on him the entire way. It made him grin and when he stepped into the lavatory and glimpsed himself in the mirror, his eyes widened with surprise. If he hadn't gone so minimally dressed on this assignment and wore jewelry, he could pass himself off as a tall, muscular woman. He had to admit, he looked good. He left the bathroom and came back out to find Simon, with his coat off, putting the washcloth down on his place-mat and looking up expectantly at Sandburg, who had another make-up kit ready to use.

Blair thought for a long moment, then smiled to himself and picked up the eye-shadow kit. When Simon closed his eyes, Blair dabbed the little brush into a pale lavender color and spread it on from lashes to brow on first the left, then the right eyelids. Using the other end of the brush, he dipped it into metallic plum-colored eye-shadow and brushed the lower base of the captain's eyelids. When that was done, he had Simon open his eyes and roll back in his head. This time, the eye-liner process was a little slower, but before too long, an eggplant-colored liner had been applied. A Q-tip smudged the lines seamlessly and then black mascara was applied. When that was all done, Blair had Simon pout at him and a dark purple lip-liner was applied, then a slightly lighter shade of purple lipstick was applied to the rest of the full lips. Finally, a plum-rose colored blush was brush onto Simon's cheeks and the event was over.

"All right, Simon," Jim said as he joined them at the table. "Looking good."

"Don't you even go there, Ellison," Banks growled, then got up from the table to go check for himself in the bathroom. He was back in only a few seconds, crowding Blair up against the table as he towered over the younger man. "No! No way, Sandburg!" he yelled.

"Hey!" Jim said, stepping forward, glowering.

"Simon, man, it looks good! Ya gotta trust me!" Blair pleaded, looking up at the angry captain. "With your skin tone and the fact that you're all in black, you gotta have something to make you really, really stand out. This does it and the colors go great with your skin tone!"

"I look like a damned circus clown!" Simon bellowed. "And now it's too late to wipe it all off and change it to something else!"

"Simon, I went with the best I could do! Bronze and brown colors would've been too blas; this stuff really sells the look. Hey, it could've been done in red!" Blair said with a nervous grin, then closed his eyes and ducked his head when Simon's angry look intensified.

"Simon..." Jim growled warningly.

Aware that he was truly beginning to frighten the young man and said young man's over-protective Blessed Protector of a Sentinel was getting pissed off, Simon sighed and backed down. "Okay, kid; you say it looks good, then fine. I would have appreciated a little warning, though!"

"M-Man, if I'd done that, you would've said no!" Blair laughed anxiously, stumbling slightly on his words.

Jim reached out and pulled his guide close to him, aware of Blair's arm going around his back. "Okay, he gets the point, Simon. Back off."

The captain nodded and turned away to go look at his make-up again, trying to convince himself he really did look okay.

Jim looked down at Blair and found his partner staring up at him. "You okay, Chief?"

"Yeah, man. He's just so ... big."

"I don't believe he would have hurt you, Blair," the sentinel said softly.

"No, I know that. It was just ... nerves, I guess. Anyway, I have to get down to The Doll House. I gotta get in costume there and go over the routines again. Good thing I already had a stint as a bartender before, huh? See you when you get there, big guy." With that, Blair ducked into his room to grab his backpack, then raced over to the coat hooks to grab his jacket. Just as he was about to go bolting out the door, Jim yelled, "Sandburg!"

Turning back to look at his friend, the young guide said, "Yeah, Jim?"

Ellison fixed his friend with a look. "Be careful there, you got me?"

Blair grinned. "Yeah, Jim. I got ya. You too, man. Later!" And with that, he went bolting out the door.

Jim sighed. "Yeah, kid; later." Then he turned away to go raid the fridge for a quick snack that wouldn't mess up his make-up.

A few hours later found Jim and Simon outside The Doll House. Jim was wearing a long overcoat over his outfit, more due to the chill in the air rather than trying to hide himself. He had to be on display to catch the killer, after all.

"Where's Rafe?" Jim asked quietly.

"Already inside, scoping things out and presumably keeping an eye on Blair," Simon replied in the same tone. "All we need to do is get in there and start attracting attention. You ready?"

"Not by a long shot. But I suppose we'd better get in there and do our thing to put a stop to this, sooner rather than later."

"Never mind the fact that you're worried about Sandburg," Simon teased.

Jim glowered at his boss, then sighed. "Well, let's go, Simone."

"After you, Chantilly."

The two of them entered the club, checking Jim's coat at the door while the person manning the desk batted his heavily made-up eyes at the two of them flirtatiously. The two cops ignored him stoically and then continued on in together. Jim immediately looked to the bar for his partner, but couldn't see behind the absolute wall of people, although he could hear if he turned his ears up a little. But the music was loud in the club and he didn't want to do that. So, he kept it turned down, knowing he'd be up there sooner or later and could catch a glimpse of his best friend. Glancing around, Jim nonchalantly looked for Rafe, finally spotting the younger detective chatting with someone in a corner.

Rafe was certainly dressed up, Jim had to admit. The detective wore a floor-length emerald-green gown with matching short-heeled pumps and biceps-length gloves. He'd shaved what little chest hair he had and wore black stockings to hide his leg hair. A glittering rhinestone necklace was around his throat. His make-up was nicely done, too. The eye shadow was a tan base with an olive green color adorning the lower lids and a forest eyeliner finished the job, with black mascara. A light tan blush was on his cheeks, sparingly, and his mouth was outlined in a deep gold color while the lipstick was some sort of pink/gold combination that looked really good on him. His hair had been washed and styled and looked like it had been made for playing with.

Pretty much like Sandburg's hair, Jim mused to himself, although he doesn't have to work at it like Rafe did.

Catching himself before he could get deeper into those thoughts as he felt certain parts of his body warming up, he willed himself to behave as Rafe looked over and caught sight of him. They exchanged surreptitious nods and then Jim and Simon moved on to mingle with the crowd.

The two of them were a big hit together, instantly attracting attention. Before long, they found themselves busily chatting away with many different people. Some of the men flirted with them, which they dealt with competently and professionally. Other men talked about their girlfriends or wives and then moved on to other things, proving that a transvestite does not have to be gay in order to like dressing up like a woman. Rafe joined them before too long and under the cover of giving the other two cops flirtatious kisses, he whispered what he'd learned, that a man who matched the killer's profile and description came here every once in a while and might be in later that evening.

Simon turned away from the conversation he'd been having with a guy done up in a red strapless dress that went to mid-thigh with matching biceps-length gloves and high-heels, with black pantyhose on, and found Jim staring at the bar, trying to get a glimpse of his partner. Pasting a smile on his face, he touched Jim to get his attention, then said, "Chantilly, dear, would you mind going to the bar and getting us a couple of drinks, please? I'm getting thirsty."

Jim grinned. He knew his captain was giving him an excuse to go see how Sandburg was doing. "Sure thing, Simone, sweetie," he replied, and took off for the bar.

He walked past a table and got a couple of wolf whistles, which he stoically ignored, and finally managed to squeeze his way to the edge of the bar. A drunk tried to pick him up right there, but he firmly rebuffed the man and instead turned his attention to the bartender.

His jaw dropped open and his eyes bugged out, then he whispered, "Holy shit!"

"Yeah, no kidding," said the man who stood on the other side of him, opposite the drunk. "I wouldn't mind getting that alone with me for an hour or two in a private room, you know?"

Jim refrained from decking the guy and instead kept his attention on his friend, who was inadvertently causing the detective to use every ounce of his willpower to keep from getting an erection.

Blair had really been dolled up, although in a femme-butch style. He was wearing very, very skin-tight black leather pants that tied at the waist and crotch, instead of zipping or buttoning, with black leather boots on his feet. Left loose on his upper body was a shirt that Jim vaguely recognized as something out of that "Rob Roy" film with Liam Neeson in it. It tied up the front, just like the pants did, but it was white silk and the whole outfit was designed to invite a person to slowly unravel him from either the neck down, or the crotch up. He had shaved again so there was no stubble and had a thin film of concealing make-up on, but his eyes had been very much so done up to draw most of the attention to them, while the blush on his cheeks caught the eye to his entire face at first glance. His mouth hadn't been so heavily done up, since it already drew enough attention in and of itself. The make-up on his eye shadow was similar to Jim's, although his were done in the same metallic make-up that had been used on Simon. His eyelashes had been teased with a mascara that made them appear longer, thicker and he used them shamelessly. His lipstick was a brighter shade of rose than Jim's, edging near crimson but not quite. And his blush was a sparingly used dusky rose color that drew attention to his fabulous cheekbones and the angular planes of his face. And his hair! A fluffy cloud of curls that had, of all things, silver glitter sprayed into the silky strands! So that as he moved and dashed about and shook his hair back periodically, he sparkled astoundingly.

Blair turned then and saw Jim staring at him with blue eyes blazing and an almost incredulous look on his face that was slowly being consumed by ... hunger. He shivered, not knowing what to make of it, but he pasted on a smile and sashayed down to the end of the bar where Jim was perched. "And what can I get you, sugar?" he asked in a teasing manner, lightly fingering his ears in a subtle signal for Jim to dial up his hearing.

Yourself naked and under me and writhing on my dick in less than five minutes, Jim thought to himself, then shook his head slightly. He ordered the drinks and watched Blair's ass in those tight pants as he moved away and bent to retrieve items. While he was down there, he said quietly, "I haven't seen our guy yet, but Rafe told me what he knows and it's pretty much the same. I do know that the guy who matches the profile always orders a Black Russian on the rocks, so if I get an order like that from our match, I'll signal you." Then Blair whirled around and playfully smacked away the hand that was reaching to grab him. He delivered the drinks and he said, "I'll put 'em on your tab, sweet thing." Then he whirled to meet the new orders coming in as Jim nodded and mouthed "thank you" while barely moving his lips.

Jim allowed himself one last ogle and then he returned to Simon with their drinks. "Here you go, Simone."

"Thanks, Chantilly. This really hits the spot. So, did you spot the bartender? I heard he's a hell of a sexpot. Did you get to talk to him? Haley here says he's got a voice to die for," Simon said with a playful grin, his meaning clear.

Jim played along, allowed a wolfish leer to cross his face. "Oh, he's all that and more, honey. And he even gave me some advice on drinks; you know, what would be a good idea? He said a killer drink would be a Black Russian on the rocks and that I'd have to try it at some point."

Simon nodded, grinning. "Sounds good to me. We'll have to make sure we catch it when the time is right. For now, let's just circulate and see what we can find to play with."

Their covert conversation finished, the two of them did start circulating while Jim periodically checked the bar for signals from Blair. About an hour later, while he was walking past slowly, he heard Blair say, "Black Russian on the rocks? Sure thing, baby." Glancing around, he caught Blair's gaze as the young man moved further down the bar. A surreptitious nod from the young grad student and Jim made his way to Simon's side, who just happened to be talking with Rafe in a tiny group of people. "Simone, I'm thirsty again. I think it's time I tried that Black Russian," he said.

Sentinel sight picked up on the sudden tension in both Simon and Rafe, but the captain simply smiled at his "date". "Sure thing, sweetheart. Go ahead and see if you can't get close enough to get it. Looks like quite a crowd up there."

Jim nodded and turned to make his way there. He sidled up to the bar next to the suspect, a tall, strong man who was wearing blue jeans, black boots, and a white peasant-style long-sleeved shirt that was unbuttoned halfway down his torso. His dirty blonde hair was short, wavy, and very nicely styled. Jim had to admit that the man was definitely a looker. His make-up was minimally done, too, with only a simple earring - a silver cross - in his right earlobe. He was aware of the man checking him out as Blair arrived carrying the man's drink. "Here ya're, baby. Hey, sugar, back again? What can I do you for this time?"

"Well, what this guy is having looks good. How 'bout one of those?" Jim said casually with a wink at Blair, gesturing at the Black Russian drink.

"Anything for you, sugar," Blair purred, licking his lips subtly, then disappeared to make up another drink, taking orders from others as he went.

Jim clenched his jaw as he fought down his body's response. He looked over at the guy when the man said, "Good choice. Black Russian is a good drink. You come here often? I don't think I've ever seen you before."

"No, this is my first time showing up here. A friend told me this would be a good place to hang out and he was right. I'm just strolling around, enjoying the sights," Jim said casually.

"Uh-huh. Me, too," the guy said, grinning broadly as his eyes roved up and down the cop's body.

Jim forced himself not to scowl and instead smiled back. "What's your name? Do you come here often?"

"Yeah, I stop in here about once a week," the other man replied and Jim thought that fit with the timing. "My name's Logan Knight. What's yours?"

"Well, Logan, in here I go by Chantilly. You know, as in 'Chantilly Lace'? Like the song?"

"Uh-huh, I get it. So what's your real name?"

"Well ... I could tell you, but it would ruin the moment, you know? I mean, I'm here for a reason," Jim said.

"You get some kind of kick getting into all that girly-girl stuff?" Logan asked.

"Well, yeah. It's a kind of sensual thing, you know? And you must like it, too, at least a little. You're all prettied up and you're dressed like you're on the prowl," the cop replied with a grin and a wink.

"Huh; maybe. I don't go for much, though. A little make-up is fine. The whole thing, though? Nah. It just seems wrong to be packin' my dick up to prance around in hose and heels. That's what women are there for, anyway," Logan muttered, picking up his drink and sipping at it as his eyes remained fiercely on Jim.

Ellison shrugged and then turned his attention to Blair, who arrived with his drink. The younger man smiled and said, "Here's your drink, sugar-doll," and puckered up teasingly as he leaned closer to the sentinel.

Jim played along and planted a quick kiss on those up-turned lips and then slid his own mouth along his friend's cheek to whisper in his ear, "Eyes and ears sharp, Chief. This is most likely our guy." He pulled back after allowing himself to teasingly nip Blair's ear.

Sandburg was looking at him with a lusty expression, but in his eyes Jim could read anxiety and a silent message to be careful. He nodded agreement and watched as Blair strutted away. Turning back, he saw Knight's eyes on Blair as well.

"Now that's a pretty piece of ass, that is," Logan said. "Wonder what the odds are of him giving me a bartender special?"

Pretty much the same as your chances of remaining alive if you even attempt to touch him, you piece of shit, Jim growled mentally. Outwardly, he shrugged and said, "Not good, from what I hear. He's in a committed relationship with a girl who goes to Rainier. What a waste, huh?"

"Maybe not. Who knows?" Logan shrugged. "Girls aren't bad. What about you? You committed?"

I'm thinking I ought to be, for going along with this, Jim thought, but he grinned and shook his head. "No, not really. I like variety and I see what I can catch. How 'bout you?"

"Same here. In fact, my place isn't too far from here, if you'd care to check out my 'bait'?" Logan asked with a leering grin.

"Sure, why not? I like a quick 'reel' as much as anyone," Jim replied, and he set the drink back down on the counter. He fished money out of the little billfold he kept in his wallet and plunked down a twenty, shoving it inward so that Blair - who was walking by - could take it. Then he and Mr. Knight, who had already paid for his drink, turned and left the bar together, heading towards the exit. Jim caught Simon's eye and nodded once, then kept his attention on Logan.

Under the cover of shifting his jacket - he'd kept it with him - Simon murmured into his hidden mike, "All outside units, on alert. Detective Ellison leaving with suspect in tow now." Then he casually invited Rafe to head "home" with him. The two of them quickly made their way to the door as Blair called in a shift change for himself. Once the other bartender had arrived, he quickly ducked into the back and then out the backdoor, racing around front to catch up with the others.

Jim had collected his coat from the coat-check desk and he slipped it on quickly and then left with Knight at his side. The two of them strolled along the street, talking casually, although Jim could hear the other man's voice getting more and more tense and abrupt. He was aware that they were being tailed, watched carefully, and as they passed a darkened alley, he felt a hard hand on his arm suddenly yank him into the shadowy area and throw him hard against the brick wall.

Shaking his head, he looked up from where he'd slumped to the ground. "What the hell is wrong with you?" he demanded, then grunted as a hard slap knocked his face to the side. He looked back up to see Logan pull out a medium-sized, very sharp knife.

"You are what's wrong, 'Chantilly'," Knight sneered. "Prancing around in women's clothes, getting high off being a faggot-freak ... look at you! You're built like a man. Why don't you act like one? People like you are a disgrace to humans, a fucking waste of space. You don't deserve to keep breathing!" And with that, he advanced on the cop.

"He deserves to breathe a lot more than you do!" Simon Banks' voice suddenly thundered and the two of them looked to the opening of the alley as bright lights flooded the area. "Cascade PD! You're under arrest!"

Knight looked down at the suddenly grinning Ellison. "You're a cop?" When Jim nodded, he yelled, "You set me up, you bastard!" and he lashed out with the knife, intent on doing some damage.

Jim ducked the wild swing even as he heard Blair's voice yell his name, and then tripped his attacker, catching him and slamming him down face-first into the dirty cement after knocking away the knife. "That would be, 'you set me up, Detective.' And you're damned right I did, you son of a bitch. Your murdering spree is over, mister. Logan Knight, you're under arrest for murder and attempted murder of a policeman. You have the right to remain silent..." Jim said, reciting the Miranda warning to the stunned man, and then shoved himself to his feet and stepped away as two uniformed officers moved in and cuffed the murderer.

He walked up to join his captain, Rafe, and Blair as Simon said, "Good work, Jim. We nailed this bastard; the Mayor will be pleased. Are you okay?"

"Fine, sir. I would like to get home and get out of this junk, though. My feet are killing me," Ellison replied with a grin.

"Your mouth to God's ears, brother," Rafe mumbled, shivering slightly. He hadn't had time to put on his coat and so he was rather exposed to the chill evening air.

Simon grinned and removed his jacket. "Don't take this wrong, detective, but here. Put this on. Last thing I need is you catching a cold."

Rafe took the jacket and shrugged into it gratefully, sighing as the body heat the garment had soaked up wrapped around him.

Jim, in the meantime, was looking down at Blair. "Are you okay, Chief?" he asked.

Blair's eyes widened. "Am I okay? Jim, you're the one he took a swing at with a knife! And the corner of your mouth is bleeding where he hit you. Hold still." And with that, Blair reached up and tenderly wiped away the little trickle of blood.

Catching hold of his partner's hand when Blair tried to draw away, he held onto it, staring into the shorter man's eyes. "Thank you," he murmured.

Simon looked at the two of them for a moment, then sighed, deciding he really didn't want to know. He turned away for a moment to see that the prisoner was transported off to jail and then came back to them. "Good night's work, gentlemen. Let's all get out of here; we can take care of everything tomorrow afternoon. Rafe, will you be able to drive yourself?"

Detective Brown came up to them, then. He'd been part of the outside team waiting to catch the killer in the act. "I can drive him home, Captain, no problem," H said.

"Thanks, man," Rafe said gratefully.

Simon nodded. "Okay, then. Ellison, Sandburg, let's head back to your place. I left my regular clothes there, remember? And I would like to get this make-up off before Daryl can see me," he added, mentioning his son who was staying with him for the weekend.

"Very good, sir," Jim said quietly, still looking at Blair. Then he let go of his friend's hand and the three of them headed towards the parking lot. Blair went back into the club long enough to collect his clothing and personal items, and to argue with the club owner when s/he tried to talk him into staying the evening and finishing the job. Apparently, Blair was a very popular person in that place. When he emphatically denied the offer, the owner gallantly let him keep the costume he was wearing. "Just in case you ever get the urge again, honey-love," s/he said with a grin.

When he left and made his way to his car, which was parked near Simon's, he told his friends about it and the two cops howled with laughter. Sandburg merely grinned, waved, and got into his car, which prompted the other two men to quickly climb into Simon's car. Blair led the way back to the loft, driving very carefully so Jim wouldn't be too uptight and Simon wouldn't have a reason to complain.

When they arrived at the loft, Blair tossed his clothing into his bedroom and quickly made a fresh pot of coffee as Jim went upstairs, yanking off the wig as he did so. Once the coffee was done, Blair handed Simon a cup and the big captain disappeared into the bathroom with it. The water in the sink was turned on and Blair grinned as he heard disgruntled mumbling coming from the bathroom. Then he turned and made his way upstairs with another cup of coffee for Jim.

Blair froze as he reached the top of the stairs to find Jim almost completely naked, in the process of slowly and carefully peeling the gaff down around his hips and then bending over as he slid the thing down his legs. He offered a wonderful view of his ass to Blair, but he straightened and turned when he heard the strangled gasp coming from his partner.

The two men stared at one another silently and then Blair let his eyes drop to Jim's crotch. The sentinel's dick was clearly erect, dark red and already wet at the tip as it surged up near his stomach. Blair swallowed and then lifted his eyes again. "You didn't have that while wearing the gaff, did you?"

Jim shook his head. "Once I was out of it, yes." He walked forward until he stood directly in front of Blair. "Not until I heard you." He reached out and took the coffee from his friend's hand and set it on the table by the bed. "Not until I smelled your pheromones. Saw you looking at me like you wanted to eat me. Do you?"

"God, yes," Blair groaned, and he reached up to pull the older man down to him.

They kissed hungrily, frantically, their lipstick meshing messily, but neither one cared. They held each other tightly as they shuddered, tasting each other happily and lovingly. When they pulled back for air, they grinned at one another.

Grinding his leather-covered erection against Jim's bare dick, he licked his lips and asked, "What do you want, Jim?"

Ellison groaned. "Whatever it is, it won't last long. I've been lusting for you all evening."

"That's fine, Jim. What do you want?" And again, Blair licked his lips, wetting them.

Jim's eyes went hot. He dipped his head and kissed and nipped his new lover's mouth, then pulled back. "I want that. I want your mouth on me. I want you on your knees and your lips wrapped around my dick. I want you to suck me off, right now."

"Oh, yeah," Blair growled, and he dropped to his knees next to the bed. Reaching out, he held Jim's cock in one hand and licked it wetly with his hot, wet tongue, getting it good and slick and then he slipped his mouth over the tip of it, sucking as much of it inside as he could.

The sentinel muffled his deep groan and his hands fisted in Sandburg's hair. He felt that lush mouth sucking hard, frantically, and he began to piston his hips, plunging his dick in and out of that mouth. Looking down, he watched as he disappeared between those lips over and over again and then Blair suddenly looked up at him, moaned around his cock, and pushed down until he was deep-throating Jim's cock, then swallowed hard.

Jim clenched his jaw to muffle the roar that wanted out as he spasmed and came in his guide's mouth, pumping his seed fast and hard into that steamy haven. He pulled back, allowing Blair to swallow it, and shivered as the cool air hit his still erect penis. His knees trembled and gave out and he collapsed on the bed.

Blair carefully got to his feet and loosened the strings on his pants, not quite untying them, but giving his own erection enough room so it wouldn't get painfully squeezed in the tight confines. Down below, he heard the door to his room open - apparently, Simon had finished in the bathroom and had gone into Blair's room to change - and the captain came out to the kitchen area.

"Okay, guys, I'm heading home for tonight. Thanks for the coffee, Sandburg, and good work, you two. See you tomorrow afternoon," Banks called out.

"Okay, good night, Simon. Drive safely," Blair called back, and waited until the front door shut with a click. When he was sure the captain had left the building, Blair leaned over the bed and pressed a kiss to Jim's open mouth. "I'm going to shower now, big guy. You're welcome to join me if you think you can get down the stairs without breaking your neck." Then he was gone, walking slowly down the stairs to avoid doing damage to his still blatantly erect cock.

Jim inhaled deeply and forced his muscles to work and he followed his lover down the stairs into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. He walked up to where Blair waited and grinned down at him. "I made it down here," he said.

Blair grinned back and pointed at his own crotch. "Good. Now let's see if you can make it down here."

It was a challenge that Jim was going to enjoy meeting.

What followed next was Jim holding his lover loosely in his arms as he slowly worked his way down, untying the shirt with his teeth and kissing and licking each new bit of exposed skin and chest hair and finally a less-fuzzy stomach. He twirled his tongue in Blair's navel as he pulled the shirt down Blair's arms and off him, and then set to work on the pants. He did the same thing, untying the laces with his teeth and happily tasting each section of skin until finally he could peel the leather down Blair's legs. He licked and kissed all around the younger man's groin as he set to work pulling off his partner's boots.

Sandburg shuddered, holding onto Jim's shoulders as the sentinel set his teeth delicately on one of his hipbones as he worked off one of the boots. "Oh, God, Jim," he moaned. "You were so hot tonight. You looked so sexy and when that guy came onto you - when any guy came onto you - it was all I could do not to tear them away from you and shout out loud that you're mine. Man, I was so jealous; you wouldn't - ahhhh! like that, yeah, baby! - believe how jealous I was! Oh, Jim, yes, your mouth, use it, use it!"

Ellison hungrily took his lover's erection into his mouth, slicking it up and sucking on it as he moved it back and forth between his lips. He felt Blair shuddering and he smiled around the treat in his mouth. His own cock was once again steel-hard and aching and when he felt the shudders preceding Blair's orgasm, he pulled off the thick cock with a wet slurp and looked up.

Blair moaned in disappointment, thrusting forward with his hips, trying to get back into his lover's mouth. When Jim's hands restrained him, he looked down with heated eyes. "What?" he asked raggedly.

"Do we absolutely have to shower right now? I want to be in you on a bed," Jim stated firmly.

"Bed. Yes. Now," Blair demanded and then laughed when Jim surged to his feet, scooping him up in his arms.

The sentinel turned the knob and yanked the bathroom door open forcefully, then carried his hot, squirming burden into Blair's soon-to-be old room. Thankfully, the bed was cleared of any junk even though it was rumpled, and he tossed the younger man down on the mattress. He looked around, then found the drawer in Blair's bedside table and pulled it open. Inside, he found a tube of lube and he brought it out even as he quirked an eyebrow at Blair, who shrugged and said, "Helps when I masturbate, man."

"Well, it's about to help in a whole new way," Jim replied, and he settled himself between Blair's widespread thighs.

Soon, Blair was writhing and moaning as first one, then two, and finally three slick fingers worked him open and slipped inside carefully, stretching him and getting him used to the feeling. As he rode down on the fingers, he gazed up at Jim and pinched his own nipples and fondled his own cock, delighting at how his actions seemed to turn his lover on very much. Finally, he whispered, "In me now, Jim. Fuck me."

"Oh, man," Jim growled, and he slicked up his cock and then positioned himself between Blair's legs, at the entrance to the younger man's body. He paused and fixed his lover with a long stare. "You tell me if it hurts, okay?"

"Don't care if it does, Jim, I want you in me," Blair snapped back, then smiled. "But I'll tell you, I promise. Now please come into me?"

"Yeah," Jim whispered, and he began pushing his way into his lover's body.

Blair held his breath, occasionally groaning as the full feeling of Jim's cock started to overwhelm him, and gasped breathlessly when Jim held still, allowing him to become accustomed to the sensation. Finally, Jim was all the way in him, his balls pressed tightly to Blair's ass, and they both moaned at the feeling.

"Oh, God, Blair," Jim breathed. "Oh, my God, you feel so good ... so much better than I ever imagined..."

"You do, too," the smaller man replied just as quietly. "You feel so good inside me. Move, lover. I want to feel you moving in me."

"Yes!" Ellison growled, and he pulled almost all the way out, then thrust back in firmly. The two of them moaned in unison and then Jim did it again, and again, and yet again until they were moving together in a smooth rhythm; Jim plunged in as Blair arched up to receive him, both of them gasping in wonder at the feel of the other.

Jim took Blair's mouth with his own, needing to taste the younger man, so hungry for him. It was a hot, wet, nasty kiss that made Blair nearly crazed as it heightened his arousal. He began bucking harder and faster beneath Jim and the sentinel moved to match his speed, slamming in harder and harder, the pace frenzied. Tearing his mouth away from Blair's, Jim reared up and back, onto his knees. He held Blair's hips in his hands, lifting the younger man's pelvis higher, and kept his gaze locked with his lover's as he braced himself and began to pound into Blair, deeply and roughly, rolling his hips as he plunged all the way in and then drawing out again to do it all over again.

Blair wailed at this new angle and rhythm. He shuddered hard as Jim's cock stroked like fire across his prostate with each thrust. He knew he wouldn't last too much longer; reaching for his own dick, he began to pump it fast and furiously, his back arching further and his hips bucking at the added stimulation.

"That's it, baby, that's it, stroke it!" Jim gasped harshly, feeling his balls drawing up against his body. "Oh, yeah, oh yeah, here we go; here we go, here we go, Blair, yeah, baby! God, Blair, here we go, I'm coming, baby; come on, come on! I'm coming, come with me..."

At that, Blair shrieked as his own orgasm slammed through him. He let go of his dick and clutched at the sheet and blankets on the bed, his body spasming as his come boiled up out of him, striping Jim wetly from chin to their fused groins.

The rippling convulsions that clamped onto Jim's cock was the undoing of the sentinel. He threw back his head and let out a ferocious howl, then dropped forward, bracing himself over his lover as he rammed in and out, pounding his way through his climax as his seed poured into the younger man hotly.

Shuddering, his chest heaving as he fought for breath, Jim slowly went weak and dropped onto Blair, twisting at the last moment so he wouldn't crush his smaller lover and leave him totally breathless as Blair gasped harshly beneath him.

They lay together, Jim's dick still within Blair, until finally they got their breath back. Turning his head so he could look at his lover, Blair smiled at Jim. The older man smiled back and they moved closer so they could kiss slowly, tenderly. Jim's cock throbbed one last time inside his lover, and then with a groan, the older man carefully pulled out as Blair sighed at the loss.

"Well," Blair said, grinning at his new mate. "I'd say we really need that shower now."

"Mmm-hmm. Especially since we need to get this make-up off. We really messed each other up," Jim replied, grinning himself.

"No kidding. You look like someone took a damp roller sponge across your face, man!" the younger man laughed.

"Yeah? Well, you look like you went into a sweat lodge. You are dripping, bucko."

"In the most interesting places, too," Blair added with a wicked grin.

Jim groaned. "Oh, man. Let's not start that again. I don't think I could if my life depended on it."

"It might later, but for now, I've staked my claim and you've staked yours. Let's haul our exhausted butts into the shower, get clean and then go to bed," Blair said.

"Sounds good to me. I can't wait to go to sleep, holding you snuggled up against me."

"Really?"

"Really. It's been a favorite fantasy of mine for a while now," Jim said, pulling himself off the futon and reaching down to help Blair up.

"Well, we'll just have to make sure your fantasy comes true," Blair laughed as he was pulled onto his feet.

Jim smiled and tenderly cupped his lover's face in his hands. "It already has, Blair. I love you."

Sandburg blinked, then swallowed and offered a tremulous smile. "I love you, too."

"I know. Now, let's get cleaned up," Jim said softly and led the way from the small room.

"Yeah," the guide replied, content to let his sentinel take care of him for now. He couldn't wait to get cleaned up and snuggled up in that big bed upstairs.

As they entered the shower, Jim admitted that he was grateful for that weird assignment. I should've dressed up as a woman sooner, he thought as he pulled his lover under the spray. It would've gotten us here that much quicker. Thank God for transvestism!

Then he was too busy to put up much more mental thought.

THE END