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.
Young Love relationship--James is in high school. Also, this Blair is so not canon. Move on if you have a problem with authors who dare to mess with the OTP. ;-)

Light My Fire' Award Nominee for Best Non Jim/Blair Pairing.
This story is a sequel to: Work of Desire, Chapter 20

"James, quit loitering in the doorway. I'm sure Sally has better things to do than waste time chatting with you." William Ellison indicated the chair beside him. "Sit down and eat your dinner."

James ignored his father to the point of turning his back on the older man. It wasn't until he saw the warning look of dismay on their housekeeper's face that he obeyed the callous demand and assumed his place at the dinning room table.

"Fuck!" he exclaimed when he accidentally stumbled and banged his leg against the chair. It had been two weeks since the cast had been removed, but in no way was his leg back to normal. The smallest amount of pressure on the extremity set his teeth on edge and only by dialing down his sense of touch was he able to deal with the pain. Unfortunately, he had been dodging Blair the last few days and was now having more than his usual share of problems with this damn unique gift of his. The recurrent spikes of excruciating pain would soon force him to seek out his so-called guide.

Grabbing the back of the chair next to his, James used it for balance until the pain eased to a manageable level. "Don't say a word," he muttered when he saw the huge smirk on his brother's face.

He had blatantly refused to listen to the advice offered by his orthopedic doctor during the last office visit and had tossed his crutches in the garbage the second he got home. He had wielded the damn things long enough and wasn't about to reclaim them just because his leg was as weak as a wet noodle. He'd use Simon's `Bowflex' and be back in shape in no time.

Shit.

Simon.

James felt his heart take a nosedive at the thought of his lover. He missed Simon like nobody's business but until he got a handle on his senses and on the lust he felt for the Professor, he just couldn't risk doing the deed with the older man. He loved Simon, loved him with all his heart, and in no way did he want to lay any hurt on the man who had given him everything.

This shit with Blair was just that . . . shit. It didn't mean a thing except to his dick. The longhaired college professor was sex on a stick, and he couldn't help craving a taste. But tasting and loving were two different things. One was temporary, and one was permanent; and James wanted the latter. He wanted, he needed the permanency, the security of Simon's love, and no matter how much he wanted to fuck that smug smile right off the Professor's face, he wanted Simon more.

James sighed with hopeless frustration as he pushed his food around on his plate. He wasn't the least bit hungry, and he sure as hell wasn't in the mood to listen to his nit-wit brother brag about the straight A's he was getting in school. Just listening to the brat was enough to make him want to puke, and he would have been long gone if it hadn't been for the threatening glare directed at him by his father.

" . . . homework's all done."

Homework.

Shit. Another reminder of Simon.

During the time James had lived with Simon, his lover had insisted on him doing his homework the minute he got home from school. At first he had resented the hell out of this parental attitude. Simon was his lover, not his dad, and he wasn't some snot-nosed kid who had to be sat down and made to do his homework. He'd get to it when he felt like it and not before. Simon had insisted otherwise, and it only took James a week to understand why.

Homework meant time spent together. The minute he entered Simon's office and pulled out his books, the world outside ceased to exist for the two of them. Dawn had strict orders to hold all calls; and only if the universe was on the verge of total annihilation was she or anyone else allowed through the door.

He couldn't count the number of times he had looked up from studying and found Simon looking in his direction, a tender smile on his face, his head tilted to the side indicating he was listening to whatever James was doing. Nor could he forget the hot, humid afternoons when he and Simon, dressed only in their shorts had ventured out on the back veranda and claimed the over-sized porch swing as their substitute study spot.

Nine times out of ten and despite the heat, they'd end up sitting sideways on the swing with his back plastered to his lover's broad chest. Simon would loosely hold him in his arms, nuzzling the side of his neck and palming his pecs while he studied. The embrace was non-sexual in nature, and James would die before admitting just how much he craved being held like that. It was a demonstration of Simon's love and affection, and he just ate it up.

". . . did not slave over a hot stove for you to just sit there and play with your food. Eat your dinner, or else go to your room."

"Okay, then. I'm out of here."

James hid his grin when he caught sight of the surprised and then enraged look on his father's face. Just because he was living back at home didn't mean he was going to tow the line and be the perfect Ellison progeny his father wanted him to be. He was through putting up with other people's shit, and the sooner Daddy dearest realized that, the better.

"Jimmy, you will be on time for dinner tomorrow. I've invited a friend to join us, and I will not tolerate you strolling in halfway through the meal. Naomi and her son will be here at seven. I expect you home, showered and dressed by six."

William Ellison pointed a threatening finger at his son. "Do as I say, Jimmy. Naomi could very well be your new stepmother, and I'll be damned if I let you embarrass me in front of her."

"Oh great. Another bimbo with boobs," James mumbled on his way up the stairs to his bedroom.

It had been over five years since his parents' divorce, and during that time his father had paraded dozens of women through the front door. Each one was introduced as a potential replacement for their mother, and more often than not were blonde, brainless and boob-colossal. Exactly the kind of woman he and Stevie would want for a mother.

"Actually this one's a redhead, and her tits aren't really that great."

Stevie's voice seemed to come out of nowhere and startled the hell out of James, causing him to miss a step. He grabbed for the railing to stop himself from pitching sideways and placing all his weight on his weak leg.

"Maybe you should have kept those crutches a little while longer," his brother suggested as he came up behind him on the stairs.

"Maybe you should shut your mouth." He ignored the dejected frown that followed him to his room.

Stephen took a seat on the edge of the bed and sat there fiddling with the pages of a magazine James had been reading before dinner. "You wanna watch a movie?" he asked. "Dad bought me the new `Batman' dvd."

"No." James dropped down tiredly in the chair at his computer desk and stared out the window. He rubbed at his chest, but it did nothing to ease the ache inside.

"I'm glad you moved back home, Jimmy. It's been real lo---"

He cut his brother off. "Well, I'm not. Dad's still a bastard, and he still treats me like shit."

James pulled open the top desk drawer and took out a picture of Simon he had printed off the internet. It was the same image that had sent him into a deep zone the day he had visited Rafe about two months ago. He traced the handsome features of his lover and swore under his breath when the ache inside his chest grew worse. He truly missed Simon, missed him more and more with each passing day. The only reason he wasn't snuggled up close to his lover at that very instant was his fear of zoning in a major way while they were making love.

Simon had already said he would not use physical pain to bring him out of a zone. `I will not hurt you,' his lover had emphatically declared the last time they had discussed the situation. James had disagreed. It didn't matter to him if Simon had to haul off and hit him to bring him out of a zone. He'd rather live with a black eye than break Simon's heart. And that's exactly what would happen if he zoned while they were fucking and Blair was called in.

James wasn't the least bit attracted Blair emotionally. Physically was another matter all together. Sometimes all it took was for Blair to turn those sexy baby blues on him, and his dick started saluting. He didn't even want to think how he'd react if Blair showed up while Simon and him were fucking. He could control his brain but not his dick. It was if the damn thing had only one thought on its mind and that was getting up close and personal with the Professor's fine ass.

And to be honest James didn't know if he could resist Blair's advances much longer. The man had made it quite clear that he wanted him -- it was in his touch, his voice, the way he scrutinized his body whenever they were alone together. James wasn't an idiot. He knew if he succumbed to the Professor's charms that the two of them would be naked and fucking in five seconds flat.

And that was something he had to avoid at all costs.

James had sworn his faithfulness to Simon, and if that meant going without sex until he got a handle on his senses and his disloyal dick, then so be it. Simon was more important than sex. Yeah, sex was good, but Simon's love and trust were a hell of a lot better. In fact . . . .

James shoved his lover's picture back in the drawer and grabbed for the keys to his Jeep. He was checking to see if he had money for gas when he stood and ran smack into his brother.

"You're going over to his house, aren't you?" Stephen asked.

"Yeah, I am. Got a problem with that?" He sidestepped his brother and collected the duffle bag he kept packed and sitting in his clothes closet.

In the two months since moving back home, overnight visits to Simon's place had been few and far between. Being so close to the man was pure torture and a temptation he couldn't always resist.

Suddenly desperate to feel the solid strength of Simon's body as he took him down and claimed his ass, James was halfway to the door when he heard Stevie talking to him.

". . . if I was you. Dad's gonna be mega mad when he finds out you broke curfew."

He dropped the duffle bag and turned around. Stopping directly in front of his brother, he gripped the boy's thin shoulders. "The only way Dad's going to find out I'm gone is if you tell him." Glaring at Stevie, he squeezed hard. "Are you going tell him?"

Stephen dropped his eyes to the floor. "I might," he answered sourly.

James heaved a lengthy sigh of frustration before hunkering down in front of his brother and clasping the boy's hands. He still hadn't forgiven Stevie for lying to Simon. That one lie had caused immeasurable pain, both emotionally and physically, and not only to Simon but to himself as well. It had also put a strain on their relationship as brothers.

The two of them had always stood united against the coldhearted bastard that was their father, and James had taken more than his share of beatings to protect his younger brother. To discover Stevie was now siding with their old man was a major blow to his heart.

James loved his brother, but he loved Simon more. Choosing one over the other nearly killed him, and yet he had to follow his heart. As long as Stevie had a problem with him loving Simon then he had a problem loving his brother.

"Look, Squirt, you need get it through your head that I like being with Simon . . . big time. I don't care that he's way older or that he's blind. And I sure don't give a damn that his skin color's a few shades darker than mine. None of that shit matters. Being with Simon is what's important, and until you can understand that, then you and me are gonna have major problems."

James was stunned to see the tears sliding down Stevie's cheeks. "What the fuck?"

Stephen jerked his hands free and scrubbed at his face. "Why? Why him and not some girl? I bet if you had the hots for a girl you wouldn't be going out all the time." Stephen punched him in the chest. "Since you went to work for Simon, you're always over at his house. We never do anything together anymore. Dad's always at work. Sally's busy doing her thing. It's not the same with you gone."

James snapped his mouth shut. His brother was lonely, pure and simple. "Hell, Stevie. Why didn't you just say something? You're welcome at Simon's any day of the week."

Stephen scrubbed his runny nose with the back of his hand. "Dad won't allow it."

"Dad can go fuck himself." James pulled Stevie into his arms and hugged him. "I miss you, too," he confessed softly. "You and Simon are the two most important people in my life. Sally's number three. If you need something, tell me. I'm not a mind reader, Stevie. If you want to spend time together, just say so. I'll take you with me to Simon's any time you want to go."

He released Stevie and pushed him back a few inches. "But know this, if you ever lie to Simon again, hurt him in any way, I'll not only beat the living daylights out of you, but you and I will be finished as brothers. Look at me, Stevie."

He waited until his brother was staring him straight in the face. "I'm only going to say this once. I love Simon. The sooner you accept the fact that I'm gay and in love with that man, the better things'll be between us. Got it?"

Stephen made a face. "Guys kissing guys is totally lame. Why don't you like girls?"

"I just don't. Girls don't do a thing for me. Men on the other hand . . . ." James searched his brain for a way to explain his feelings, but Stevie beat him to it.

"Men get you hard? Give you a boner?" Stephen indicated the `Freshman' magazine lying on the bed. "Is that why you read those kinds of magazines?"

James reached behind Stevie and snagged the battered periodical. He wasn't about to confess to his brother how many times he had jerked off while staring at the pictures inside. "I like looking at men."

"Kinda like the way Dad likes looking at naked women? Did ya know he reads `Playboy?' I found where he stashes them under the sink in the master bath."

James couldn't help it; he burst out laughing. The thought of his father, the richest man in Cascade, the man who swore he could have any woman he wanted -- the thought of his father reading `Playboy' and drooling over its monthly centerfold was fucking hilarious.

"Don't let Dad catch you messing with his magazines. He'll have your hide."

Stephen puffed out his chest. "Don't worry. He's hardly ever home nowadays. He'll never catch me."

Stevie's words brought them back to the matter at hand and stole the grin from his face. "Look, I'll pick you up tomorrow after school, and you can hang out with me and Simon. How's that?"

"Awesome!" Stephen threw his arms around James and hugged him tight. "We could go swimming, right? That pool of his is the coolest, and I could practice my butterfly stroke while you and him watch."

"Sounds great. Just promise me you won't freak out if you see me and Simon kissing or shit like that." James stood and tossed the magazine he was holding back on the bed. In little less than an hour he'd be staring at the real thing, and maybe, just maybe, he'd get Simon to play stripper for him while he jerked off.

James grinned wolfishly. Sex wasn't all about fucking.

"Okay, I'm off." Duffle bag collected, he turned to his brother. You'll cover for me with Dad, right?"

"Yep." Stephen followed him to the door and grabbed his arm just as he stepped into the hallway. "Uh, could you . . . umm . . . ."

"Spit it out, Stevie."

Stephen scuffed the wood floor with the toe of his sneaker. "Would you tell Simon I'm sorry for being such a prick?

James smiled. He really should insist that Stevie apologize to Simon face to face. The little bastard deserved being raked over the coals for the pain he had caused. Luckily for his brother, James was feeling quite magnanimous.

"Okay, but just remember what I told you earlier. Hurt Simon, and I'll hurt you."

"I got it, I got it," Stephen insisted with an exaggerated roll of his eyes. "Make nice with your boyfriend or else."

Chuckling, James headed for the stairwell at the back at the house that led down to the kitchen. "Catch ya, tomorrow, Squirt."

He flew down the stairs, and the ache in his heart lessened with each step.

+++++++

Following Marta's instructions, James anxiously made his way down to the pool. "Here I come, Superdick! Prepare to be boarded."

Simon's housekeeper had been surprised to see him and was seriously hesitant when quizzed as to his lover's whereabouts. She finally admitted that Simon was down by the pool and was in the process of saying more when James took off at a run. His weakened leg gave out just short of the pool and down he went.

The second his knee hit the dirt white hot flashes of pain exploded inside his skull, and he nearly passed out from it. Minutes sped by while he struggled to keep from crying. By the time the pain had subsided to a manageable level, James was sweating profusely and panting for air. It was while he was sucking oxygen back into his lungs that he heard the quiet rumble of his lover's voice.

"Mack, I don't think you understand. I'm in a committed relationship."

The voice that answered Simon was husky and low-pitched and laden heavily with tenderness. "Simon, can you honestly expect me to believe that you're seriously in love with this boy? He's a fucking teenager, for god's sake. Why in the world did you tie your heart again to someone so young? Don't you remember what happened the last time? How many more times am I going to have to come to your rescue?"

"It's different this time," Simon insisted. "James loves me. I know you don't believe it, but it's true. James truly does love me."

"Thou doest protest too much, my old friend."

"You don't understand," Simon repeated. "It's not our age difference that's got him running scared. It's some---"

"I understand plenty," the stranger interrupted. "I understand you're lonely, you're unhappy and in desperate need of some serious loving. Come on, Simon, you called me, remember? Asked me to stop by for a visit. Don't know about you, but it sounded like more than an invitation to just talk. Simon, baby, your dick is as hard as rock. Let me . . . ."

Ignoring the pain shattering his heart, James closed his eyes and focused his sense of hearing on the noises coming from the two men. The unmistakable sound of fingers sliding over bare flesh and mouths hotly kissing drove the newly acquired air right out of his lungs.

Simon was getting it on with another man.

The splash of hot tears drove him to his feet. With a silent cry of denial, he stumbled down the path that led back to Simon's house.

If Simon didn't want him anymore, James sure as hell knew someone who did.

Digging out his cellphone, he punched in a number that he never thought he would willingly call.

555-1530.

The phone number for Blair Sandburg.

End Work of Desire, Chapter 21 by Angelise: angelise7@hotmail.com
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