Author's website: http://writingonthewall.slashcity.net/~angelise7/toc.htm
This work is not intended as an infringement upon the rights of those that own these characters and is meant solely for non-profit entertainment purposes only. Original characters Sharrie, Dawn and Chloe belong to me.

'Light My Fire' Award Nominee for Best Non Jim/Blair Pairing.

Young Love relationship--James is in high school. And this Blair is so not canon and so not part of the OTP. Move on if you have problems with such stuff.
This story is a sequel to: Work of Desire, Chapter 19

". . . have been assured the supplies you requested will be here by . . . Holy Shit! What happened to your eye?"

Dawn stopped in mid-sentence to stare at James. "Who on the football team did you piss off this time?"

Ignoring Dawn completely, James brushed past where she and Simon were sitting at the kitchen counter, sipping from tall glasses of lemonade. He touched his lover briefly on the arm before grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge. "Got some plays I need to study," he announced in a voice that warned anyone listening of the danger of asking any further questions.

Confused by James' abrupt entrance and exit, Simon waited until the teenager was out of earshot before turning to his assistant and inquiring, "What's wrong? What's wrong with James' eye?"

"He's got a major shiner," Dawn answered after taking a sip of her drink. "Somebody really laid one on him."

Simon rose to his feet and took his half-filled glass to the sink, emptying it of its contents and rinsing it clean. "That's the third time this week someone's taken a swing at James. I know he hates being on the bench for summer practice, but these constant squabbles with his team members have got to stop. What the hell is going on with him, Dawn?"

Simon rubbed his face with both hands. He knew the answer to his question, but refused to acknowledge it because he was ashamed to admit how deeply he resented his lover's most recently discovered peculiarity. To put it simply, Simon was about at the end of his rope in regards to James and his senses and how frequently they required Blair's assistance. He freely admitted that it was totally selfish of him to deny Blair access to James. The anthropologist was, after all, making some progress teaching James how to deal with his off-the-wall senses.

It was just that every time Blair came to their home Simon felt the man's presence somehow chipped away at the relationship that he shared with James. Each session left the teenaged sentinel in a foul mood, and Simon was the one forced to suffer the brunt of James' frustration and anger, not to mention his current refusal to make love.

It hurt Simon tremendously each time James rejected his touch, whether it be a peck on the cheek or a light hug of welcome when the teenager returned home from summer football practice. He was so accustomed to James' lusty overtures, that it wounded him beyond belief to be denied something as natural as holding hands while watching TV.

Simon kept telling himself that everything would return to normal once his lover got a handle on his senses. He even went as far as helping James to move his belongings into the guest bedroom when the teenager had insisted his restless sleep was keeping Simon awake at night. But after two weeks of mercurial mood changes, of sleeping alone, of being denied even the simplest act of intimacy, Simon had had enough.

"I think it's time I talked to James. This kind of behavior has got to stop or else he'll end up being kicked off the team."

"And lose his chance at that football scholarship," Dawn reminded him.

Simon agreed with a nod of his head. "That, too." Drying his hands, he walked back to where his assistant was sitting. "We'll finish our discussion when I return. There are a few more letters I'd like to dictate to you before we end our day."

"I'll be in the office when you're ready." Dawn patted Simon on the shoulder as she passed him on her way out of the kitchen. "Good luck with James."

"You might light some incense or offer up prayers. I think I'm going to need all the help I can get."

Dawn's retreating laughter was drowned out by the ringing of the telephone. "Hello?"

"Mr. Banks, is that you? This is Rafe, James' friend."

Simon recalled the young man that James often hitched a ride home with from school. Both he and Rafe were on the football team and spent many evenings together discussing strategy over the phone. "James is up in his room, Rafe. Give me a sec, and I'll go get him for you."

"No, that's not necessary, Mr. Banks. I . . . I just called to check on him. Make sure he's okay."

Simon heard the slight hesitation and swore Rafe's voice was tinged with a hint of fear. "I'm not quite sure what you mean, Rafe. Except for a black eye, James seemed perfectly fine when he arrived home from school."

"You're sure? He was ready to kick my ass from here to China when I let him off at your house. Not that I blame him considering I was the one who gave him that shiner."

Simon reached for one of the stools that were kept next to the breakfast nook and sat down. "You hit James? Why, Rafe? What happened?"

"He went weird on me again. One minute we're surfing the `Net, looking up articles about you, and the next, James is off somewhere in the Twilight Zone."

Simon rubbed a hand over his face before letting out a sigh of frustration. "Can you tell me exactly what the two of you were doing when this happened?"

Rafe echoed Simon's sigh. "We were hanging out in my room, shooting the breeze when James decided he wanted to do a little research on you. I wasn't really paying a whole lot of attention. No offense, Mr. Banks, but sculpting's not my thing. Now, men's clothing on the other hand . . . give me a `GQ' magazine, and I'm one happy camper."

Simon interrupted Rafe. "What was James doing when he . . . as you put it, went off somewhere in the Twilight Zone."

"Looking at a picture of you. He pulled up this pic of you in a really fine tux and off he went. I tried everything, Mr. Banks, to snap him out of it. Talking to him, shaking him. Hell, I nearly crushed his hand trying to get him to respond to me, but nothing worked. He was really scaring me, especially when he started breathing funny, like he wasn't getting enough air. Finally I just hauled off and hit him, and that's what brought him back."

Leaning one elbow on the counter, Simon dropped his head in his hand and groaned softly. A zone-out. James had had a major zone-out at his friend's house. Blair had warned him this could happen and had encouraged Simon to allow him daily access to James.

`The more I work with James, the lesser the chances are of him experiencing zone-outs,' Blair had told him.

Simon had balked at the idea of Blair invading his home every single day. He was having enough trouble with James as it was. Adding Blair to the mix on a daily basis was asking way too much of him.

Simon's thoughts were derailed by something Rafe had said at the beginning of their conversation. "Rafe? You indicated that this wasn't the first time that James has lost focus on his surroundings. How many other times has this occurred?"

Several seconds passed before Rafe answered. "At least four that I know of. Usually I yell at James, and that snaps him out of it, but not this time. Mr. Banks, can I ask you something?"

"Yes, Rafe. What is it?"

"Is . . . is James okay? I mean . . . he doesn't have a brain tumor or something shitty like that, does he?"

A small smile replaced the frown on Simon's face. "No, Rafe. James does not have a brain tumor."

"Then what's wrong with him? He didn't used to be this way."

Simon sat up straight and racked his brain. What in the world could he say to James' friend that wouldn't make him think of James as a freak? Tilting his head down, he prayed for guidance. It came almost instantly, supplied surprisingly by the one asking the questions.

"This has to do with James' dad coming home, doesn't it?" Rafe conjectured. "I know things are pretty bad between them two, and that's one of the reasons James is hanging out at your house."

Simon opened his mouth, perfectly willing to latch onto Rafe's suggestion, but the teen beat him to it.

"James is stressing out about his dad. That's why he's having these spells. Shit, I should have known. It's not like I haven't heard all the horror stories about his old man."

"Rafe---"

"Mr. Banks," Rafe rushed out his words. "Tell James I'm sorry. Tell him I'm a shit-for-brains for not realizing what's going on. Tell him he can punch my lights out if that'll make us friends again."

"Rafe, I'm sure James is still your friend. According to him, you're his best bud, and I seriously doubt this one incident is going to end your friendship. Maybe you could call him later this evening, talk things over with him?"

"Good idea, Mr. Banks. Will do. In the meantime will you tell James I'm fucking sorry about hitting him? And that I didn't do it to hurt him."

"I'll tell him, Rafe."

"Thanks. And thanks for being there for James. He really does appreciate it, Mr. Banks. In a major way you can't even begin to understand."

Simon smiled. `Oh I do understand,' he thought. `I understand quite well how much James appreciates me.' Rising to his feet, Simon ended the conversation. "Thanks for calling, Rafe. And next time you drop James off, come up to the house. I'd like to meet you."

"Will do, Mr. Banks. Bye."

Seconds after hanging up the phone, Simon found himself standing outside James' room. He knocked once before opening the door. "James," he called, stepping across the threshold. "Tiger? I'd like to talk to you for a few minutes."

Silence greeted him and after a moment of focused listening, Simon determined James was not in his room nor in the adjacent bathroom. "Where in the world did he go? Thought he said he had plays to study."

Thinking James had gone out by the pool as he was apt to do when the weather was nice, Simon headed downstairs and was halfway there when he met up with his dog, Jeffrey. He knelt to ruffle the hair behind the dog's ears. "Do you know where James is?" he asked his canine companion. An enthusiastic swipe of the tongue answered his question and Simon straightened, keeping his hand on Jeffrey's head. "Take me to James," he instructed, and after a series of nudges and butts of the head, Jeffrey soon had him standing in the doorway to his studio. "Thanks, partner."

Quietly, Simon entered the room and after listening for his lover, made his way to the where the teenager was. "James?" Simon came up behind James and wrapped his arms around the silent teen. "Tiger? What's wrong?"

James gripped Simon's arms, but that was the only acknowledgment the blind artist received from his silent lover. "I take it from where we're standing that you're admiring the work I've done on the new sculpture."

Even though he was still receiving therapy for his hand, Simon had resumed work, and his first project had been to recreate the sculpture of James that had been previously broken. It not only brought him great joy to be sculpting again, but it also allowed time for him and James to be together without the aggravating presence of Blair.

"I know you can't recognize it yet, but I thought I would try something different this go round. Maybe a little more---"

"Si?" James interrupted him.

"Yes, Tiger? What is it?" Simon lowered his head and tenderly nipped James' ear. "Talk to me, Tiger. Tell me what's wrong."

James raised his arms and secured them around Simon's neck. He then turned his head and pressed his face against Simon's throat. "Love me, Si. Love me like you did when we first met. Before---"

Simon heard the words James refused to voice, and his heart wept for the frightened teenager. He knew that James was having a difficult time getting a handle on his senses, and more often than not, James cursed his new abilities, vehemently demanding that Blair find a way to turn them off.

`I just want to be normal again,' he'd tell Blair over and over. `Turn `em off, shut `em down, get rid of them so that things can be like they were before the accident.'

Tightening his hold, Simon held James in his arms, rocking him back and forth as he softly kissed him on the forehead. He heard the shuddery sigh that slipped out, and without further hesitation, began to gently make love to the person he cherished above all others.

Except for the sound of their kisses, silence reigned as Simon carefully set James' crutches aside and stripped him of his clothes. The instant his lover was naked, Simon seated himself on the stool he kept near his worktable and settled James between his open thighs. Nuzzling the side of James' neck, Simon quickly unbuttoned his own shirt and moaned when James instinctively pressed back against his chest.

"I love you, Tiger," Simon whispered, his fingers sliding from James' neck outward, along his broad shoulders and down his arms. He briefly squeezed the hands that automatically reached for him before lifting each one to his mouth and bestowing a kiss upon them. Letting go, Simon then searched for James' nipples, scraping his nails over them repeatedly. The instant they hardened into small nubs that begged for his mouth, he pinched each one hard, prolonging the torture until James gasped and thrust his hips backward, slamming his ass into Simon's groin.

Exquisite heat blossomed between his legs, and Simon rushed his hands lower, wanting nothing more than to offer the same to his lover. He gathered the strong column of flesh that had risen with the first touch of his fingers to James' body. He sheltered it in one hand while reaching with the other to cradle the heavy sac below. With extreme gentleness, Simon stroked James' weeping erection until the liquid heat of his lover's release bathed his hand.

James trembled helplessly in his arms, and Simon gripped his lean hips to keep him from sliding to the floor. Turning the teen around so that they faced each other, Simon used his fist to angle James' head up. Minutes passed as they renewed their love for one another with kisses that comforted instead of aroused.

"Hold me, Simon," James demanded with a gruff voice. "Make me feel safe again."

Simon obeyed the emotionally laden request, clutching James so tight they both had to struggle to breathe.

"I'll keep you safe, James," Simon promised. "I'll do everything in my power to keep you safe." Closing his eyes, he buried his face in the silky strands of hair brushing his jaw and crooned softly to his young lover.

Nearly a quarter of an hour had passed before Simon eased James away a few inches. "Rafe called," he quietly told him. James held his silence, remaining absolutely still within the circle of Simon's arms. "James, I know about the zone-out."

James attempted to pull away and growled low in his throat when Simon refused to allow him to escape. "It's okay, Tiger. We'll get through this." A stubbornly tilted chin was gently bitten. "Tell me what happened exactly. Tell me what brought this one on."

James pushed against him, but Simon refused to budge. He wanted to hear James' side of the story. "James, please."

"It was you, okay?" the teen angrily shouted. "I was thinking about you, about us fucking, and it just happened. One minute I'm staring at a picture of you, imagining how it would feel to be balls-deep inside your ass and wham! Next thing I know Rafe's fist is making nice with my face."

James gripped the edges of Simon's shirt, nearly ripping if off his chest. "It's . . . every time I . . . every time we fuck I . . . I start to lose it. What if . . . what if it happens one time and you can't bring me back?" James became frantic. He grasped at Simon, yanking him forward so that there were only inches separating them. Each panic-stricken word was a blast of hot air against Simon's face, and he almost raised his hand in defense.

"Promise me, Si," James harshly demanded. "Promise me you won't call Blair. He can't . . . don't let him touch me, Si. Not if we're together like that. Not if we're fucking."

The teenager's fear was almost palpable, and Simon was at a loss as to how to handle it. He was also confused as to why James was so against Blair helping him with a zone-out. Simon, like his lover, didn't actually relish the thought of Blair being a witness to their lovemaking; but if James did lose himself in the act and Simon couldn't bring him out of it, Blair was their only hope.

"James, I understand. I don't want Blair invading our lives any more than you do, and I certainly don't want him in our bedroom. But Tiger, if it'll save your life, I'll greet him butt-naked at the door."

"No! He can't see me like that. I refuse. Not when you and I are fucking. No. No way."

The more upset James became, the more anxious Simon grew.

"James, Blair is bi. It won't bother him at all to see two men together. You know he's seen me naked; we were lovers, after all." Simon caressed the side of James' face, trying desperately to calm the agitated teenager. "To be honest, I'd prefer he not get a look at you, but if it can't be helped, it can't be helped. James, he is your guide."

"NO! I don't want him to be my guide. I want you. You should be my guide, not the Professor."

James ripped free of Simon's arms and in an exact re-enactment of before, bumped into the table upon which the sculpture of his likeness was sitting. It rocked precariously back and forth. Fortunately this time Simon was there to catch it before it fell.

"You know that's not how it works," Simon said, after righting the unfinished artwork. "Blair has explained this sentinel-guide business to you over and over. Why can't you accept the fact that he's your guide?"

"BECAUSE HE'LL TAKE ME AWAY FROM YOU!"

Simon was shocked speechless by his lover's allegation and stood unmoving while listening to James jerk his clothes back on.

"You can't see him, Si. The way he looks at me, touches me. You can't see any of that."

"James---"

"And he knows you can't see him, `cause if you could, his ass would be six feet under."

Simon hauled James into a bruising embrace the second the teen touched him on the arm.

"I'm telling you, Si, if Blair ever lays hand on me like the way I think he wants to, I'll kill him. Me and my body belong to you, not him. And I don't give a damn that he was predestined from birth to be my guide. What a crock of shit that is."

The last was said so sarcastically that Simon couldn't help but smile. "James, if you'd just---"

Again Simon was interrupted, and he had to fight hard to push back the major annoyance that was beginning to encroach upon his thoughts.

"Si, have you ever wondered why Blair calls me `big guy'?"

Expecting another rant, Simon was caught off guard by James' softly whispered question. "No, not really. I mean, you are big for your age. Dawn has told me on more than one occasion how you tower over most the boys in your class."

Simon heard James' sigh and frowned in confusion.

"The nickname has nothing to do with how tall I am," James confessed.

Simon gasped when his hand was roughly grabbed and shoved between James' thighs. His lover had seized the hand that had been injured, and the tight grip was reminding Simon that not all was back to normal. "James, let---"

"He saw my dick, Si. Caught me jerking off that day you went to Seattle for more surgery. Remember? You used your voice to fuck me over the phone."

"What?"

James released Simon's hand, but instead of stepping away as Simon expected him to do, James moved forward, wrapping his arms around Simon's waist and tucking his head in the crook of Simon's neck and shoulder. Instinctively, Simon dropped his hands to James' hips and held him close.

"I had just met Blair that day. He was out at the pool with Sharrie and Chloe," James explained after pressing a tender kiss to Simon's throat. "The son of a bitch made a pass at me, Si, and I don't mean he winked those baby blues at me, either. The fucker groped my ass, and if Sharrie hadn't been there, hadn't told me Blair was donating so Red could have a baby, I would have beaten the shit out of him with my crutches."

Jealousy and rage sank their claws into Simon's heart, and it was all he could do to keep from leaving bruises upon James' hips, his hands wanting nothing more than the pleasure of ripping Blair to pieces. "If he ever---" For a second, Simon couldn't speak.

He had known Blair was interested in James in a manner that had nothing to do with his research on the subject of sentinels, and to be perfectly truthful, Simon couldn't find fault with his ex-lover for that. James was a magnificent specimen of manhood, and because he was extremely handsome and young, Simon knew without a doubt that there would come a day when he'd lose James to another.

But for Blair to blatantly put the moves on James knowing full well that the teenager was in a relationship with Simon -- that was totally unacceptable, and Blair was risking serious pain if he thought he was going to get away with it. Nobody was putting the moves on James unless James, himself, wanted them to do so.

Simon let slip a malevolent smile. Even a blind man could see how much James resented Blair's advances. In fact, if the anthropologist didn't keep his eyes in his head and his hands in his pockets, he would, without a doubt, find himself in need of intensive care.

"I'll handle Blair, James, and believe you me, his inappropriate behavior toward you will cease."

"But what about . . . ."

Hands slid down over his crotch before expertly opening his slacks and freeing his penis from the confines of his boxers. Simon shivered when the room's cool air caressed his sensitive shaft.

"But what if I zone while we're fucking?" James asked. "I can't ha . . . I don't want Blair seeing us. That's private, just you and me."

Simon sighed, his anger evaporating instantly. Lifting his hands, he cupped James' cheeks and brushed his lips across the teen's forehead. "Tiger, I'll do everything in my power to prevent that from happening, but please realize if I can't bring you out, I'll be forced to call for Blair. There's no way around it." Simon heard James' swift intake of breath and knew what was coming. "And no, I won't use pain to bring you out of a zone. I can't, James. Not when there's another way available."

Simon momentarily saw stars when his penis was gripped hard and then shoved uncaringly back in his pants.

"Haven't you heard a fucking thing I've said?" James shouted. "I can't have Blair to seeing me like that. He'll see me and want me and taunt me with it, and `cause I want . . . he's gonna make me break my promise to you, Si. Don't let him do that."

Simon could hear his lover fumbling with his crutches, but before he could say a word, James shoved him aside and nearly caused him to lose his footing. Simon grabbed for the table and cursed when his hasty move put the sculpture in danger again. Reaching for James with one hand, Simon used his other to keep the artwork from tumbling off the edge. "James, wait. We need to talk about this some more."

The slamming of the studio's door was James' definitive response to Simon's request.

"Fuck." Simon searched for the nearby stool and sat down heavily. He fully grasped the reason for James' protest in regards to Blair, and yet, there was something else -- something that nagged at him but somehow, at the same time, eluded his understanding.

Rubbing his pounding temples, Simon stood and went in search of his migraine medicine. A major one was on its way, and if he didn't get something on board now, a visit to the ER would soon be on his afternoon agenda.

Simon had just reached the kitchen when the phone rang again. This time he ignored it, brushing past Marta on his way to the cupboard where his housekeeper stored various over-the-counter and prescription medicines.

"Simon, it's for you."

Marta's voice stopped him short and with a sigh, he turned around and took the cordless from her. "Hello," he answered a bit more abruptly than usual.

"We're back home, you old geezer. Make sure James knows it."

Shit. James' younger brother. Just what Simon needed.

"I'll tell him, Stephen," Simon replied dejectedly. His bed, it seemed, would remain empty a while longer. "As soon as I see James, I'll let him know."

"Good, and tell him Dad wants his butt living back at home and not at your place. You hear that? James can't live there anymore. He belongs at home, with us, his family. Not with you, Dickface."

"Marta, I need my migraine medicine," Simon said aside to his housekeeper. Returning his attention to Stephen, he spoke quietly and calmly, "I'll pass along your father's request, but it'll be James' decision whether he obeys it or not."

"James better do as Dad says or else."

Simon took the glass of water and tablet Marta offered him and quickly swallowed the medicine. "Good-bye Stephen. I'll pass on your message to James as soon as I see him."

"If you do---"

Simon broke the connection and handed the phone back to his housekeeper. "Did James come this way, Marta?"

"No, Simon. I haven't seen James since before he left with Rafe this morning."

"What's up?"

Simon turned in the direction of his assistant's voice. "Have you seen James?"

"Sure as hell have. That little shit nearly mowed me down on his way out the front door. Simon, I hate to complain, but could you tell James to watch it with those crutches of his? One crutch-yielding maniac is all we need around here."

Simon considered asking Marta for another dose of Imitrex but decided against it. "Did he hurt you, Dawn?"

"Nothing that a visit to `Heavenly Spa' couldn't fix."

Simon let a brief smile cross his face. "Book yourself and Sharrie an appointment and charge it to my credit card."

"You're a good man, Simon."

Simon nodded his head. "You can go home now, Dawn, if you want. I'm going to look for James, and I don't know when I'll be back." Simon turned to where his housekeeper had been a moment ago. "Marta, yell out when supper's ready."

Calling for his guide dog, Simon entered the front foyer just as the doorbell sounded. "For god's sake," he muttered under his breath. Wondering what else could possibly go wrong with his day, Simon jerked open the door and glared at whoever was standing on the other side of the threshold. "What?"

"Hey, Simon," Blair greeted him excitedly. "Mind if I spend the afternoon with that sexy sentinel of yours? It's time he and I got together and---"

Ignoring the pain in his fist, Simon stepped over the anthropologist sprawled at his feet and went in search of his missing lover.

End Work of Desire, Chapter 20 by Angelise: angelise7@hotmail.com
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