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Payback's A Bitch
By Moonbeam
Jim Ellison, ex-Ranger, Cop of the Year, Sentinel of the Great (but Unfortunately Most Dangerous) City in America--and overprotective Blessed Protector to one slightly trouble-prone Guide--was half way down the stairs, gun in hand, before he even realized he was awake.
Before his foot hit the last step he was extending his senses to search the loft for whatever danger had drawn him from his much-needed sleep, automatically scanning his territory for threats. Instinctively, he was moving toward the lower bedroom to check on his Guide by the time that he realized his lair remained secure. No bombs, or bullets, or blood marred his pristine home. No strange scents or unidentified heartbeats indicated hidden intruders, either still here or come and gone. All was quiet, the loft peaceful. But if there was no threat, if everything was as it should be, what had disturbed him?
A moment later he got his answer. His Guide groaned.
Concerned by the quiet moans and racing heartbeat his sensitive hearing was now focused on, the Sentinel crept through the french doors into his Guide's domain to see what plagued his partner's rest this night. Too many nightmares on top of too many long days had already taken their toll on his busy Guide. Jim would do whatever was necessary to keep his partner's dreams peaceful, especially when it seemed he couldn't keep him safe from all the nightmares of the waking world. It wouldn't be the first time he'd shaken the younger man loose from a bad dream; it wasn't even the first time that week. And after all the practice he'd had over the years, Jim imagined he was probably used to the routine by now.
But nothing could have prepared the Sentinel for the sight that met him when he finally crossed the threshold.
Blair Sandburg, his partner, his Guide, his Shaman, his best friend in all the world, was sprawled out on his small bed happily humping the mattress as he played out some hot fantasy in his dreams.
Lying on his stomach, arms and legs spread to the corners of the mattress as that youthful body twisted in sleepy pleasure, even Blair's hair seemed to take on a life of its own as it was tossed about with the wild abandon of his contortions. The sheets were rucked up around Sandburg's feet where he'd kicked them in his enthusiasm, exposing his sturdy form to Jim's appreciative gaze. His Guide's tantalizing skin glistened through a light coating of sweat. Ellison stared, rapt at his partner's unconscious display of wanton sensuality.
Caught by the unexpected scene of something straight from his own buried fantasies, the detective could bring himself to do nothing but stand there and watch. Riveted.
And fight hard not to zone.
His body on fire, half-formed images of hard bodies dancing on the edge of his memory, Blair slowly emerged from his dream into the haze of partial consciousness. Not entirely awake, he let his body keep moving against the futon as he went in search of what he needed. Without bothering to open his eyes to see what he was doing, Blair felt around beside the bed for the dresser Jim had given him when he'd first moved in. Though he came across the knob for the top drawer only by pure chance, he nevertheless felt some relief when he finally managed to tug the darn thing open.
Now that the hard part was over, it really was no effort to scrounge through the contents of the drawer for what he sought. He let out a satisfied hum when his searching fingers closed around the tube, then dragged it back to the bed so he could flip the cap off and get back to business.
Almost carelessly, Blair squeezed out some of the gel from the tube to thoroughly coat his fingers with the slimy substance. It might have been a while since he'd last done something like this, but thankfully one never forgot the basics. With an unintelligible murmur, the grad student sent a word of praise to every deity he could think of for the diverse range of experience gained during his unconventional childhood.
Fingers prepped, Blair paid no attention at all to where he'd dropped the tube as he reached his lubricated hand backward to begin stretching himself for the main event.
He knew what he wanted tonight. Nothing else mattered.
Fixated on his task as he was, Blair never noticed the silent figure standing glued to a spot at the door where the tube of lubricant had rolled to a stop. He never noticed the spot where his partner and personal Blessed Protector, Detective Jim Ellison, stood still as a statue. Where the cop was held immobile, captivated by the vision before heightened Sentinel eyes. The man who stood hard as a rock and barely dared to breathe for fear of breaking the spell.
Blair, completely oblivious to the presence of his voyeur, momentarily pulled his finger out so he could raise himself up on his knees, only to replace the digit with three on the return. The change of angle made him close his eyes in appreciation of the exquisite mix of intense feelings, and stirred him into twisting his hips to maximize the sensation.
Jim's mouth had gone dry. His hands were clenched so tightly to keep his body from shaking apart with the force of his own arousal that his fingernails were beginning to cut into the skin of his palms. But there was nothing he could do to keep his vision from narrowing in completely on the tiny spasming hole currently swallowing Blair's own fingers. His whole body shuddered with the effort of maintaining control over his own raging libido.
Jim's hands clenched tighter. The small pricks of pain barely registered on his senses and did nothing to distract him. The shudders intensified.
With one hand busy between his legs, Blair fumbled back into the drawer with the free one. "Man, where is it?"
He rifled frantically through the drawer without breaking his concentration on the action down below. Hips still going at it automatically, he bit his lip to keep from moaning too loudly and waking his roommate upstairs. When his hand finally closed on the desired object, Blair had to bite harder to muffle his little call of breathless triumph. He was already starting to pull his hand out of the drawer, the dildo in his grip, when a strong hand suddenly clamped on his wrist, immobilizing him.
Blair was too stunned to respond, his whole body frozen in shock, so it took him a while to notice that a second strong hand had wrapped around his other wrist and pulled his fingers from their work. But there was no way he could not notice when his hips were suddenly seized, and something a lot harder and a lot larger than his fingers was abruptly driven into him deep enough to feel it in his throat. Heart pounding, the anthropologist's entire being trembled at the unexpected jolt to his system. Blair's own hands, now free, dropped to the bed on either side of his head, toy forgotten as he contorted his body to look behind him.
The sight of a solid expanse of smooth muscular chest almost undid him. Breathless, Blair could scarcely release his partner's name on a whisper.
A familiar low growl, like that of a panther, set his blood on fire with the knowledge that it was his partner, Detective Jim bloody Ellison, making that bestial rumble. Oh, gods. Sandburg couldn't resist the urge to bury his face in his pillow and push back onto the cock impaling him--an answering groan of pure animalistic pleasure escaping him as he did.
Jim didn't start moving right away, much to Blair's consternation. Rather, he felt the slick smoothness of Jim's chest as his partner leaned over Blair's back and brushed some curls off Blair's sweaty neck to expose his ear. Then in an action purely reminiscent of his feline spirit guide, Blair felt Ellison lick the shell of his ear and press a faint butterfly kiss to the sensitive spot just behind the lobe.
In the distraction of the subsequent shudders coursing through his body, Blair almost missed the primal words whispered hotly into his skin.
"No one touches you but me."
The Sentinel was entranced by his Guide's reaction to his fiercely possessive words. All of his senses were spinning out of control in their eagerness to swamp themselves in the sensory feast that was Blair Sandburg. Every hitching moan was music to his highly acute hearing. Every inch of skin was resplendent in its beauty to his keen eyesight. Every pulse of heat and twitching shudder of muscle threatened to overwhelm his sensitive skin. Every breath of arousal-scented air tantalized his memory with long-repressed fantasies. And every taste of his Guide's natural essence seduced his primitive reptilian brain on the deepest of erotic levels.
Overcome by sensation, the last of Jim's resistance broke. With a roar that would have challenged the mightiest of jungle cats, he thrust in hard. The tight passage cradling his cock trembled in reaction, and Jim heard Blair suck in a breathy moan as a lightning bolt of desire shot through them both.
Jim wanted to hear that breathy moan again, so he pulled almost all of the way out and thrust back in with the same force as the first strike. Settling into a rhythm of pounding thrusts, Jim was rewarded time and time again as Blair vocalized his pleasure with every ounce of dedication he normally put into his lectures. In some small part of his brain not wrapped up in the experience of fucking his partner, Ellison faintly decided he preferred these vocalizations to the anthrobabble he was usually subjected to. That part of his brain resolved to ensure he heard these sounds more often, and less of the latter. Every other part of his brain agreed wholeheartedly.
His body was too busy to notice the conversation.
Surging deep into the ass in front of him, Jim once again stretched out across his partner's sweaty back. His mouth naturally nuzzled into the soft skin exposed to its reach and he haphazardly set about the task of marking his mate. He laid a series of dozens of little bites along the flesh of Sandburg's shoulders and down his spine, then roamed his way back up again. Upon reaching his goal, Jim nestled into the delicious curve of Blair's nape. His Guide's head tilted to make room for him and the Sentinel used the new access to press his mouth tight against the rapid pulse thrumming in time with Blair's heartbeat. Sucking gently but determinedly on that small patch of skin, Jim carefully raked his teeth over Blair's jugular--not hard enough to draw blood, just hard enough to make Blair writhe with the feel of it.
And writhe he did, almost hard enough to buck the Sentinel clean off. Jim decided he really liked that response, so he did it again.
Only this time he held on a lot tighter.
Blair thought he'd been driven out of his mind with the sheer intensity of his pleasure. Never had he known such sexual ecstasy; he wasn't sure if he could survive it. Neither did he care. If death should come, let it take him now--he didn't think it possible to feel better than he did this very moment. Then Jim shifted, changed the angle of his strokes, and no longer was he just occasionally brushing against Blair's prostate but engaged in an all-out war on the tingling little gland.
Blair shrieked.
He may also have blacked out, but he wasn't sure, because when he came to his senses again Jim was still attacking his prostate with a vengeance. Blair reevaluated his definition of nirvana.
Within a matter of moments, any last vestige of restraint Blair might have thought he'd possessed evaporated in a flame of passion so powerful he was surprised he wasn't instantly immolated. Then again, he didn't have the energy to waste being surprised--he was too busy enjoying being fucked senseless. In fact, the only conceivable thing that could be better than getting fucked by his partner was actually reaching orgasm thanks to his partner. So Blair gathered the shreds of his willpower to commence his own special ops mission:
Coming. Now. Please.
Begging for it shamelessly, Blair twisted and writhed in single-minded pursuit of his mission operative--to climax, preferably as soon as physically possible. When it finally became apparent to his sex-addled brain that Jim wasn't listening to his pleas (assuming that he was hearing them over all the moaning and groaning), Blair decided it was time to take matters into his own hands. Literally.
With an extra wiggle for good luck (yeah, right!), Blair pulled one of his arms out from under his chin so he could get into position to fulfil his goal. It took more squirming than he'd have thought possible to get his hand down between his legs, but with all the rocking Jim was doing Blair doubted a little squirming would make much difference.
He was wrong.
Seconds before his hand could close around his own cock and thus complete his mission, Jim's bigger hand batted him away. Not deterred in the least, Blair sucked in the air necessary to continue his vocal pleas for relief even as he moved back in for a sneak attack.
He never stood a chance. Blair was certainly no slouch in the mental department, even conked out by astronomical sex, but all the anthropological experience in the world wasn't good enough to counteract Ellison's Ranger training when compounded by his damnable Sentinel senses.
Blair should know--he'd tested it.
The result was that Jim recognized what Blair was trying to do seconds before he could accomplish it, and the cop's reflexes had him reacting in the space of a heartbeat.
Faster than he could track, Blair found himself being rudely unstuffed and flipped like a pancake. He cried out in anguish at the loss of the delicious torture that had so consumed him minutes earlier, but Jim tenaciously used his greater bulk to manhandle him into the position the detective was so obstinately going for. Flat on his back, Blair barely had a chance to catch his breath before Jim was spreading his legs wide and thrusting back in.
Blair found he had no complaints about the change in the situation after all.
Having desperately missed that wanted feeling of fullness, it was all he could do to gasp in air and immediately let it back out again as he arched and moaned into every sensation. One such arching and moaning maneuver brought Blair into eye contact with Jim for the first time that night. That alone was fantastic, but coupled with the feral look gleaming in Jim's pale eyes and it was a good idea the Sentinel decided to lean in close to swallow his next moan in a passionate kiss. Otherwise it might have come out sounding shrill.
The first kiss blended into another and another after that. Blair forgot about breathing entirely as his highly talented partner ravaged his mouth. Jim licked and nipped at his lips, stroked and tangled with his tongue, and explored every tooth, bump and hollow in his mouth with a detective's thoroughness. Blair was glad to learn that everything he'd ever read about oxygen being necessary for survival was evidently wrong when he felt Jim crush their mouths together in a final scorching kiss that spoke of nothing so much as animal possession. He gladly gave himself up to it, letting Jim's tongue claim his mouth with the same fierce rhythm as Jim's hips claimed his body.
It didn't get any better than this.
With more effort than he'd ever admit, Jim forced himself to pull back from the all-consuming kiss in order survey his conquered prey. Drenched in heat and arousal-laced sweat, his partner met his stare despite the glazed look in the bright blue eyes. The silken curls of Blair's enchanting hair lay strewn about his face in a dark cloud, highlighting the rosy flush spreading across his Guide's dusky skin. The edges of a smile hovered around lips that were swollen from kissing and already beginning to bruise.
Satisfied down to the most primal levels that he was the one who put that look on his partner's face, Jim's own lips pulled back in a feral smile that showed his teeth. The affectionate tenderness in his heart was not reflected in that dark and dangerous flash of ivory. Only the panther, in all its savage allure, shone through. The wild snarl curled his lip further as he repeatedly lunged in hard and deep, aiming directly for his mate's pleasure center.
With possessive pride, the panther caught his Guide's face with his between his hands. Dazed blue eyes focused blearily on his own glowing ones, and with a thunderous growl rumbling deep in his throat, the Sentinel spared a moment to grind out his command.
"I want to see your face when I make you come."
The body beneath the Sentinel flushed, overcome by the sheer intensity of their powerful coupling--the Guide caught in a pleasure-induced zone-out all his own. But as soon as the words penetrated the fog clouding Blair's mind, the reaction was immediate. With every ounce of lithe strength that compact body contained, Sandburg arched up hard against the blanketing form of Jim's muscles as orgasm crashed through him. The rest of the world graying out in a spiral of pleasure centered deep in his soul.
Jim stared transfixed as his partner came, mesmerized by a display that was unquestionably the crowning pinnacle in eroticism. The Sentinel luxuriated in the feel of his Guide's muscles tensing, then relaxing completely. He shivered as Blair's expressive blue eyes rolled back in his head, thick eyelashes fluttering against dusky skin through the aftershocks. The sweet scent of passion filled the air, overwhelming Ellison as his partner's gasping moan echoed around him.
Though it was an unimaginable challenge to refrain from following his Guide straight over the edge, and his body protested each second's delay with ever fibre of its being, he steadfastly refused to come himself. Ignoring those insistent demands, he cruelly dialed down on his sense of touch with a savage twist of that mental knob. His Guide collapsed limp beneath him, but he managed to stay hard through a miraculous act of will.
He needed to.
The night was nowhere near over yet.
With Blair still blissed out from his powerful orgasm, Jim wrapped the kid's legs around his waist and his arms around his neck. Leaning down to get a good grip, he waited only long enough to feel the younger man clench exhausted muscles as much as he could in cooperation before levering them both up. The action roused the pliant weight in his arms enough so that Blair moaned again as gravity sank him lower onto Jim's still hard cock. Then that weight stiffened as its owner finally realized just where the hell he was and clamped on harder to keep from being dropped.
The Sentinel chuckled darkly at the instinctive fear-response, the sound more at home coming from a wild animal than from a man. But he did squeeze his arms more tightly about the body wrapped around him in reassurance, for which Blair was grateful.
Just as Blair was beginning to relax--or at least as much as he could with a hard cock up his ass--Jim started walking. The movement drove him further still into Blair, making every step a lesson in sweet agony. With a gargled sound too weak to be considered a moan, Blair could only hold on tighter and pray he would survive.
Since his face was burrowed into the hollow of Jim's neck, Blair was only peripherally aware of his partner's strong sure steps carrying him through the french doors and into the living room. He was jolted back to his surroundings rather forcefully when, with only a grunt betraying the strain of lifting 155 pounds of anthropologist, Jim peeled him off and tossed him onto the couch.
With a bounce, the young Guide blithely flopped back into the cushions with all the grace of a beached whale. Jim didn't seem to mind, or even notice, because the Sentinel just reached out with those long arms of his and gathered the listless form back up. Blair took one look at the determined expression on his partner's face and knew he was in trouble.
Oh, yeah.
Exhibiting his usual great strength and characteristic bullheadedness--and a total disregard for his partner's current state of debilitation--Jim manipulated and maneuvered a variety of limbs and the torsos attached in a play to get them both in a position to his satisfaction.
Blair, deciding it would be in his best interest to go along with the plan, put up minimal resistance.
Jim didn't notice that either.
By the time Ellison had arranged them into place, Sandburg was bent over the back of the sofa with a clear view of the stairs leading up to his partner's bedroom. Jim knelt behind him with a clear view of Blair Sandburg--especially said anthropologist's scrumptious ass--which was now conveniently canted up at the perfect height and angle.
Both smiled.
It came as no surprise this time when Blair felt strong hands grip his hips and a hard cock slam into his still loose and very receptive body. He shuddered in pleasure with the force of the impact, but that grip around his pelvis merely tightened--keeping him locked in place. They stayed that way for several heartbeats, breathing raggedly. Then with an almighty shove, Jim pulled back and crashed back in as if his life depended on it. Perhaps it did, but Blair couldn't spare the time to think about it.
All he could do was pant. So he did. A lot.
Jim kept thrusting.
Luckily, they both seemed to like that.
After what seemed like an eternity had passed, Sandburg was deeply impressed with his partner's apparently insatiable staying power. And a little jealous. Blair himself, a good decade younger than his elder Sentinel, felt like he was on the verge of either collapsing like a wet noodle or launching his mind permanently into outer space--body to follow upon request. Though he'd come once already tonight, the constant friction of the couch cushions had quickly rejuvenated his libido. He was fighting the siren call of orgasm until he could make Jim come with him. Considering the state of his partner's . . . situation . . . he wasn't anticipating much difficulty.
He should have known better. Really.
Jim leaned over, sucked in his Guide's scent with an audible breath, and then nipped him in the shoulder.
Blair howled.
It was a good thing Ellison, the anal-retentive neat freak that he was, regularly scotch-guarded the furniture. Turned out it needed the protection, after all.
But Jim didn't stop there.
Wrapping strong arms around his Guide's heaving chest, staying hard inside him despite Sandburg's best efforts otherwise--and Blair was beginning to wonder if the man was even human--Jim hauled Blair up to his feet by the armpits. Blair's legs were way too weak and wobbly to carry his own weight, but Jim was in no hurry to let him go anyway so it didn't really matter. With the Sentinel's support, they eventually succeeded in executing a slow amble into the bathroom--the rolling gait of the walk actually managing to partly revitalize Blair and make him half-hard to his own immense surprise.
Who'd'a thunk?
Once in the bathroom, Jim pushed Blair into the tub, then adjusted the shower to the perfect temperature. With the hot water running soothingly over his well-used body, Blair was almost asleep on his feet. Or he would have been if Ellison weren't possessed by the spirit of such an evil sex-demon.
After bracing Sandburg's trembling body against the wall, Jim barely hesitated in started up another session of deep thrusting (slow and gentle this time) as he grabbed the soap to clean his partner. Mercifully, he avoided any major erogenous zones as he soaped the Guide's body up. Blair had mixed feelings about that actually, but was too tired to bother voicing them. It was no contest. His worn-out body willingly relaxed into the soothing internal and external massage, his sight graying out as the spent man indulged in the comfortable ease of pure hedonistic pleasure.
Then the warm bubble he languished in was impudently popped when Jim rubbed, just once and very lightly, across Blair's nipple with his soapy fingers. The action was just enough to cause Blair's whole body to shudder in reaction. When those soapy digits began a trek southward along his body, he didn't even try to suppress the moan that worked its way free of his tightly constricted throat. He honestly didn't know if he could have suppressed it if he tried, or whether he even wanted to.
Of course, he also didn't think he'd had anything left in him to be able to come again. But against the combined forces of his partner's talented touch, the workout his prostate gland was getting (and had gotten all night), and the infuriatingly teasing contact of fingers across his penis, he didn't stand a chance. The sensations melded in what remained of his dissolving mental capacities and overruled his exhaustion with surprising ease. Like magic, that fleeting brush was enough to trigger yet another orgasm--paltry though it may have been.
At long last, the rippling pulses through Blair's tired passage finally succeeded in drawing Jim's orgasm out of him explosively as the Sentinel let loose the iron-clad control he'd had over his dials.
Blair was too far gone to notice. He'd already passed out.
Blair gradually came awake to find himself staring at an unfamiliar ceiling--or rather, out an unfamiliar skylight. Confused, he rolled over to look at the clock. Recognition was boosted considerably when the movement brought an important tidbit of information to his attention, namely that his ass was sore enough to guarantee he'd not be sitting down for at least a month.
Blair shifted and another twinge made him wince.
Okay, maybe two months.
His mind still fuzzy from the residues of fantastic sex and not enough sleep, it took him a moment to fully realize where exactly he was, who was missing, and that last night hadn't merely been the best damn dream he'd ever had.
Which left only one question: where was his partner?
Before he could work himself into too much of a panic at finding himself alone and the numerous possible dire implications thereof, he saw the note resting on Jim's pillow.
Only one word was written there in the detective's distinctive scrawl: Mine.
Blair smiled, closed his eyes, and happily let Morpheus carry him back into dreamland. Later, he would plot his revenge. When he was awake enough to do it right.
Watch out, Ellison.
Payback's a bitch.
~*~*~*~*~
The End.