Author's website: http://www.geocities.com/polly_bywater/index.html
The Sentinel does not belong to me and I make no money from writing fanfiction. Pity, that.
This story contains everything that people hate to read in Sentinel fic. Bwahaha! Seriously, though, there are elements of partner betrayal. There is non-con. I say again, there is non-con. Although there is no physical violence - strictly speaking - non-consensual acts are graphically described. There is angst. There's mind-fucking. There's crying Blair. There's a little bit of primal caveman Jim. There is a spirit animal and visits from beyond the grave. There is bondage. There is bad language. There is biting. There's mush and romance and melodrama. There's also a teeny little hint of a crossover that won't make any difference if you don't recognize it.
This story was written for Wolfpup's Katrina Relief charity auction and won by calic0cat who requested a continuation of a drabble I wrote for Sentinel Thursday quite some time ago. The drabble appears at the beginning of the story text - and I hope I got the formatting right this time.

Title: White Line Fever

By June he was in Pennsylvania.

Choosing a destination hadn't been difficult. He didn't care where he went.

Getting out of Cascade hadn't been a challenge either. He'd hitched to the nearest truck stop, showed his CDL, and volunteered to team drive.

He tried not to think about how many times Jim had refused to see who he was - who he'd been - but as he drove along the interstate at three in the morning, he wondered how a man with such supernatural eyesight could be so deliberately blind.

They'd told him over and over.

He wasn't a cop.

End
9-27-04

Passing Zone Blues

Blair was nearing the fugue state of fatigue and started looking for a place to pull off, letting the rest of his mind wander as he focused on keeping the eighteen-wheeler between the white lines.

His partner had slept long enough for his hours to catch up.

Not wanting to be traced through the use of a driver license when you were depending on that driver license to earn a living could be a little difficult, but it wasn't undoable. Life hadn't been a bed of roses for Blair since he'd left Cascade, but it wasn't all bad.

Blair slid under the radar by remaining itinerant, essentially living in truck stops; until somebody who was on a deadline needed some under-the-table assistance. At most, Blair might be credited on somebody's logbook as `independent driver B. Sandburg, Washington CDL number blah blah blah' ... and Blair didn't think it would occur to Jim to look for him there among those rare few reports.

Not that Blair was at all convinced Jim would have bothered to look, or much less still be looking; not after the way Jim had stormed out during their last argument.

Jim had pushed him away emotionally and Blair had let himself be pushed; simply too exhausted to fight any more. Blair wasn't proud of having given up - seeing it as a weakness in himself - but he'd stopped believing that anything was ever going to change for him and Jim.

He was always going to love Jim too much and Jim was never going to love him enough.

And even if Jim could, the situation was impossible anyway. Blair couldn't stay with Jim without risking a lot of unwanted attention. For Jim's own safety, Blair had to leave Cascade. He had to back up the lie he'd told at his press conference. Otherwise, the wrong people were going to wonder why Jim was continuing to associate with the nutjob who'd made all those wild claims about Jim's enhanced senses.

Blair still wondered what the hell Simon and Jim had been thinking, offering him a job within the PD. How could he, as a self-confessed fraud, be a cop?

So he'd literally walked away, eventually hitching a ride to the nearest truck stop and from there on to the open road.

The six months since then felt like forever.

It had taken Blair a month just to teach himself not to constantly dwell on what he'd lost by leaving; not only Jim, but Simon and Joel and the rest of his friends at the PD. He `detached with love'; philosophically writing off his life with Jim like he'd written off a lifetime of study, and busily pretended that neither loss mattered.

He'd seen so much of the country while over the road - so many wild and beautiful places that he sometimes longed to share with Jim. The vast empty spaces and the man-made wonder he found in topping mountains at night to see lights like diamonds scattered in black valleys ... the Big Sky of the West and the Smokies at dawn ... long empty plains and the steel and glass glitter of cities - Blair had been ocean to ocean, border to border and he loved it all; wishing Jim could see it, too.

Wandering the nation had calmed Blair's mind, but the undeniable monotony in long hours of driving often forced him to confront some of the crap in his own head whether he wanted to or not.

Blair believed now that he'd left Cascade too abruptly. He'd abandoned his sentinel - he'd been told often enough in dreams. Not that Incacha had an opinion or anything, Blair thought with an irritated sigh, angry with himself more than anyone else.

He felt like an abject failure where Jim was concerned. Everything that had happened to them since Alex Barnes had merely solidified Blair's opinion. He'd fucked it up. Well, Jim hadn't helped, certainly, but Blair was convinced everything that had happened was pretty much his own damned fault and Jim was better off without him.

Blair avoided Cascade, mentally salting the earth any time he passed nearby.

His latest temporary partner started to stir. Joe was a tired middle-aged guy who knew he wasn't safe to drive and had heard about Blair through the grapevine. He groaned as he sat up on the edge of the sleeper's bunk.

"Shit, I'm getting old. Where the hell are we, BeeGee?"

Another driver had called Blair `Barry Gibb' four months ago on the way from New York to L.A, using the nickname at every truck stop in between. By the time they'd made it to LA, `BeeGee' had been the natural outcome. People all over the country recognized Blair now and regularly ragged on him to sing `Staying Alive', especially if he wore his hair loose.

Every time Blair grinned at `BeeGee' he remembered Jim's assortment of affectionate nicknames.

He heard `Chief' in his dreams.

It did occur to someone to take a look at the log books of independent truck drivers.

Someone with connections, who knew people who knew people inside the DOT. Someone who'd been keeping a distant eye on sentinel and guide and had observed their split with more than idle curiosity.

Someone of whom, it could be reasonably said, held a bit of a grudge.

Lee Brackett grinned as he picked out a phone number on his cell.

Time for some good old mind-fucking fun.

"Lose something, Detective Ellison?"

Jim muted his TV, frowning into the phone as he tried to place the caller's voice. He'd been called out on a case at three AM and had only been awake for about an hour.

Sense memory kicked in then and Jim identified the caller, bristling as sudden anger swamped him.

"Brackett. What the hell do you want?"

"Do forgive me for interrupting your Sunday afternoon football game, Detective, but I think the question is, what do you want? What would you say if I told you I have your little lost lamb under surveillance at this very moment?"

"You- Shit, you're not lying," Jim realized instantly, hearing it over the phone. "Is he all right? Have you hurt-"

"Now, now, I haven't harmed a hair on your guide's beautiful head, sentinel. Why would I? Mister Sandburg deserves better, particularly given the way you've treated him. I watch the news, you know. I ought to fly out there and kick your ass."

Jim was seized by an intense need to reach through the phone and choke Lee Brackett's head off his neck.

"You don't know-"

"A shitload of people know, Ellison. You know how it works. You were already out as a sentinel to people at the highest levels. If they wanted your middle-aged ass in the field, believe me, they would have already come after you, and that's been status quo since you debriefed after Peru.

"You let Blair throw his life away for nothing, you son of a bitch."

Jim swallowed; his throat working dryly as he fought down automatic defensive anger.

"That's not why-"

"The hell it isn't. He's scared to death to stay around you because he thinks if he does you'll draw the wrong attention from all those black helicopter types ... like me ... and at least ten others that I could name in various agencies. You chickenshit bastard. He would have stayed with you otherwise and put up with your shit. He loved you."

"Brackett-" Jim bit back the angry 'fuck off' that wanted to fly off his tongue, reminding himself that the rogue agent knew where Blair was. He tried to listen past the man, hearing enough to make it plain Brackett was near a highway - a big divided highway, perhaps an interstate, judging from the sound.

"Why the fuck do you care?" He asked instead, wondering at the real emotion in the agent's words. "What's it to you what I did?"

"Why, it's not about you, O Great Sentinel." Brackett let his voice drop to a purr, knowing Ellison would still hear him and wanting to put as much innuendo into his low tone as possible. "I do think Blair's beautiful. Don't you? I wondered when I met you why you weren't fucking him.

"He's got a beautiful ass ... and that mouth ... how many times have you fantasized about that mouth, feeling it on your co-"

"Quit with the 1-900 call and just tell me where Blair is!" Jim demanded, more turned on that he cared to admit by the mental picture Brackett - of all people - was drawing.

"No, I don't believe I'll do that," Brackett drawled back smartly. "I think I'll make Mister Sandburg an offer he can't refuse. Do you suppose he'll let me fuck him if I tell him it'll keep you out of the government's hands? I'm betting he will ... and I bet he'll be a sweet fuck. Pleasant dreams, sentinel."

"Brackett! No-"

Jim stared at his phone and dropped it. No Caller ID. He could get the number from the phone company and run it, but Jim was numbly certain it would prove untraceable.

Almost choking from the way his heart was pounding in his chest, he was caught in an adrenalin surge so fierce he was light-headed. The hell of it was, Jim was also frozen in the grip of an equivalent terror. Brackett was going to blackmail Blair into sleeping with him - Brackett was going to rape Blair - on the strength of a threat that didn't even exist by Brackett's own admission.

Burying his face in his hands, Jim forced himself to stop shaking. When he could stand, he grabbed weapon, coat, and keys, step growing steadier as he neared the door.

He'd go back to the station. He'd start all over again. He'd hit the truck stops with Blair's picture - he hadn't thought Blair might use his CDL and that had been stupid of him. Something told him there was a message the background noise behind Brackett's call.

He'd look harder. He'd find Blair. It wouldn't be the first Sunday he'd spent at work running down clues on Blair's possible whereabouts.

Jim didn't let himself think today's efforts would be equally useless ... or that he wouldn't be in time.

He had to be.

Blair and Joe parted ways at a Flying J near Albuquerque. Joe was deadheading home for the holidays - north to Utah - and Blair was hoping to get a load back east. Something in the back of his head was telling Blair to hurry up. Get out of there. You're being watched. Blair's time at Jim's side had taught him to listen to that inner voice and pay attention.

He easily caught a load going as far as Memphis, the other driver giving him the usual `I'm out of hours until I catch up with my log book'. They'd exchanged information; Blair telling an acquaintance inside the truck stop just who he was with and where he was going - another change Blair's friends had insisted upon to go with his newest nickname.

He'd met some caring people in this entirely different closed society.

Having stopped for diesel fuel on the other side of the Texas panhandle, Blair wasn't a bit prepared for the ether-laced cloth that knocked him unconscious when he put the big truck in park.

"Beautiful as ever, Mister Sandburg," Lee said appreciatively as he placed the heavy leather and sheepskin restraints around Blair's ankles and wrists. Professional bondage gear - and Lee knew just how to use it. He secured Blair's arms with enough give that Blair's breathing wouldn't be impaired and Blair could turn - a bit.

That was going to make things more convenient for Lee later.

Blair didn't answer, of course; being unconscious.

Lee stepped back a bit, thought for a minute, then arranged Blair's head so that wonderful hair fanned out on the pillow, stubborn chin tilted at an angle that bared that vulnerable throat.

The black satin blindfold was a nice touch, the agent decided, inspecting the pale honey skin, hairy chest, and startling length of quiescent cock that lolled thickly over a heavy scrotum.

"You're a big boy, Mister Sandburg, and delectable spread open like this."

After checking the view on his laptop screen from his discretely placed webcams, Lee undressed himself with real anticipation.

"I've waited a long time for this and it's going to be fun. I wonder if you'll turn to the dark side, young Skywalker? I might just keep you."

Crawling up from the foot of the bed, Lee made sure to moon one of the cams with his bare ass.

Take that, Ellison, and see how it's done.

"Whaddaya want wit' da kid, ennywayz?"

The cook at Seattle's biggest truck stop was named CJ, according to the tag high on his apron's bib. CJ bore more than a passing resemblance to Mel of Alice's Restaurant fame, except he was bigger. He gave Jim the kind of flat, cold-eyed `don't give me any shit, soldier' stare that Jim hadn't seen since leaving boot camp.

But Jim had come armed with another picture; one of him and Blair together, a string of fish held triumphantly between them and broad smiles on both their faces.

"He's my friend. He's in danger. I'm trying to protect him."

"Sumbuddy threatenin' Beej?"

CJ rather looked like he was ready to take care of it himself, and something in Jim's frightened heart eased. This man knew Blair, liked him, and wanted to protect him, too. Every sense Jim had told him it was the truth.

He felt closer to Blair than he had since Blair left him.

"The guy that's after him is a former government agent," although Jim wasn't altogether sure how former former was when it came to Brackett. "He's got a personal vendetta against Blair."

"What's this guy look like?"

Jim had that picture ready, too.

Oh, yeah. This was like, bad on every possible level of bad, Blair thought hazily as he gradually regained consciousness.

He was naked, tied down to a bed - with well-padded restraints, not handcuffs or even ropes. He was blindfolded, but he wasn't gagged. He wasn't cold, either. It felt like broad daylight; the sunshine in palpable rays on his skin.

And somebody was on the bed with him, sitting between his open legs.

Looking at him.

He jerked, shrieking as his soft cock was suddenly sucked into a hot wet mouth. A practiced tongue busily worked his involuntarily hardening shaft, strong hands kneading his parted thighs.

"No! Stop! Red!"

He tried to get free, but there was nowhere he could go.

Within moments it was too late. His cock, the betrayer, hadn't booked talent like this in years and was promptly, enthusiastically giving his unseen, unknown assailant a standing ovation.

"Please be Jim," Blair whispered, crossing his fingers - all too well aware of how utterly unlikely that wish was.

That skilled mouth slowly pulled off Blair's cock, pausing to give the head an extra-strong stinging suck that almost shot Blair over the edge into climax.

"Shit!"

"I'm hurt, Mister Sandburg! I doubt Detective Ellison could do this so well."

"Oh, no. No. No."

Blair scrunched his eyes tight beneath the blindfold and wondered how this could possibly get any worse - then Lee Brackett started sucking his cock again and fondling his tightening balls and Blair realized just how awful he was going to feel ... after he was done shooting right down Brackett's throat.

Once he had `Mel' on his side, it hadn't taken Jim long to start running down the people who'd seen Blair most recently.

"He was expected in Memphis four hours ago, central time," Joe Thomas told him over the phone. "His truck was last seen parked at a Flying J in Sayre, Oklahoma, but there wasn't nobody in it according to Dave what works the registers. That's all I can tell ya. Ya might try the OHP and see if they know anything else."

"Mister Thomas, where's the closest major airport?"

"Will Rogers in Okie City - dumb Okies named the airport after a guy that died in a plane crash. Ain't that stupid? Good luck, Detective."

"Thank you, sir." Jim hung up and looked at Simon grimly. "I'm going to need some time off. I'm going to Oklahoma."

"Come now, Mister Sandburg. Don't take it so hard. It's a physiological response quite beyond your control."

His sodden blindfold was removed, although Blair would have sworn he hadn't made a sound. He flinched as a warm damp cloth was stroked over his closed eyes and tear-streaked face.

The care felt good, and Blair hated himself for thinking that, too.

He'd just keep telling himself it was the bright daylight that was keeping his eyelids closed and not his fear of seeing whatever expression Brackett wore.

Triumph?

"I'm a very good cocksucker. It's not your fault."

"Shut up, Brackett."

"Call me Lee. We're going to get a lot closer, beautiful Blair."

"No," Blair mouthed soundlessly, despairingly, as Brackett started playing his body again, mouthing kisses to his inner thighs and brushing teasing fingertips behind his scrotum. "No, Brackett. Don't touch me."

Blair cried out his body reacted to that gentle stimulation; his cock filling anew. If it just didn't feel so good, if it just hadn't been so long - if Brackett didn't touch like he meant it, like he wanted Blair's pleasure...

"Don't- hurts-"

And it did hurt; guilt crushing Blair's chest and choking him on shame and heartsick regret - because he couldn't stop himself. Blair couldn't will his cock to soften; he couldn't ignore the sure and hungry touch that was painstakingly arousing his skin. He couldn't numb his body from the neck down and not feel the fingertips tenderly pinching his nipples, or the tongue that dipped into his navel and swirled over the leaking head of his aching cock.

Brackett wasn't hurting him enough.

"Hurt me-"

"I will never hurt you, Blair. Not a bruise, not a scratch, not even a skinned knee. You've had enough pain. You deserve pampering and that's all I'm going to do. I'm going to show you what that asshole you left will never give you ... and I'm going to make you love every minute of it."

Blair's eyes flew open as Brackett slithered up his body, apparently enjoying the way Blair tried to twist free beneath him. He stopped when their bodies were perfectly aligned; face to face, chest to chest, groin to groin. Lee Brackett's gaze was intent on his and full of heat, their cocks rubbing together with every shimmy of Brackett's lean hips.

Blair tried - and failed again - to suppress the riot of sensations Brackett was imposing on his unwillingly aroused body.

"Nooooo."

Blinking up into Brackett's clear gray eyes, Blair froze. The affection and desire he saw there - for him - seemed very real.

"You feel wonderful, Blair. Ellison is a fool for not wanting you."

"Oh, god," Blair winced as that hit him where he lived and broke his heart all over again. "Brackett, don't do this to me, please. I don't want this."

"You will," Lee predicted, moving against Blair confidently as Blair sucked in a gasp.

"I'm saying no. Don't- don't do this. Don't- Stop-"

Blair turned his face to one side, trying to avoid Brackett's lust-filled gaze, Humid breath panted over his jaw, an anticipatory smile curving the agent's sensual mouth that Blair could see in his peripheral vision.

"I know you're saying no, little guide. You're absolved of all guilt because I'm raping you. You see? Your self-respect is not in question, and mine is my problem."

Brackett paused to lick Blair's throat. Blair shuddered helplessly under that lover's caress; still trying to process those outrageous words in that warm, friendly tone.

"Then why are you doing this! Why don't you stop?"

"Don't ask me to stop. I can't. Won't. I'm going to make you feel so good, Blair. You're going to come so hard. I want to watch your face this time."

Each word was accompanied by a smooth thrust that was making Blair's hips twitch despite his conscience's screamed warnings; as undone by Brackett's words as those smooth motions. Brackett's cock was massaging his in a ruthless rhythm that fell just short of `come now'; hot and slick and hard against his own rigid shaft.

"Brackett-"

"Beautiful face ... so flushed and sweaty and alive." Brackett held Blair's head, making Blair meet his eyes, as he gently thumbed away the damp curls that were clinging to Blair's temples. "This is how you should look, with your pupils so big and dark ... would you bite me if I kissed you?"

Brackett was laughing, genuinely enjoying him. Shit, Brackett liked him. Blair didn't know what to do with that knowledge. It wasn't like he had enough working brain cells to analyze the implications right now.

"Try it and see," Blair said hoarsely, trying his best to sound threatening and all too aware that he didn't.

Oh god don't make it feel so good don't make me feel this with you god no I wanted this with Jim I wanted Jim I never wanted Brackett, god, Brackett...

Brackett shifted his weight, freeing one hand to reach between them, long fingers catching both their cocks in his grasp. Blair sobbed brokenly when Brackett stroked them both, that hand a perfect torment as it slid from root to tip, pressing their swollen flesh together.

Lee took Blair right to the edge and backed off, waiting for those big blue eyes to blink open and stare at him dazedly.

"Take a breath, Blair Sandburg, and listen to me.

"You never get out of the intelligence community. You may retire from active service, but once you're in, you're in. Records don't disappear.

"The things you do get reported to somebody, somewhere. They aren't forgotten. You have supervisors and coworkers who know what you are and what you do. Some of these same people keep watching you. If you have a high-profile position that periodically puts you in the media spotlight, you can expect a lot more people to know, because people will talk.

"That's human nature.

"What you don't seem to have grasped here, beautiful Blair, is this." Brackett resumed stroking them, but very lightly, maintaining their arousal. "The intelligence community already knows about Jim Ellison. Your sentinel bought his way in when he became a liaison officer.

"Which was, I might point out, long years before he met you."

Blair sucked in a breath, his gaze on Lee chilling with remarkable speed. His cock didn't soften much, though; something that made Lee grin.

"The government doesn't care about your dissertation, little guide, beyond using it as a resource for the recruits who are volunteering with their own enhanced senses. No one opposed your publication. No one is plotting to shanghai your sentinel. He knows some highly placed individuals who owe him for Oliver. They keep him out of day-to-day ops.

"But don't ever assume Ellison is completely out of the game. I didn't randomly choose to come to Cascade the first time we met, you know."

Lee slid his hands under Blair's ass and pulled them together, watching Blair yank at the cuffs. Blair threw his head back, throat working convulsively.

That's NOT the truth, it's not it's not it's not!

"No! No, that's not- Stop!"

"You did it all for nothing, Blair, and Jim Ellison knows that!" Lee said, grinding into Blair with a low groan. "Christ, you feel so fucking good."

"No! No! I DON'T WANT THIS!!!"

Blair wailed, but it was too late. He was coming hard, convulsing under Lee Brackett - Lee Brackett - and dying with ecstasy, part of his spirit dying, too.

Brackett was coming as well, his handsome face screwed into a grimace as his cock pulsed wet heat against Blair's, slicking their thrusts. Brackett worked them both through the climax perfectly ... and killed Blair a little more.

So, how many ways can you split thirty pieces of silver, Blair?

Jim was in Sayre, for all the good it did him. Vastly rural and right on the interstate highway - not to mention two or three state highways - Blair could have been taken from the truck stop parking lot and transported anywhere in the nation. Jim had spoken with local law enforcement and checked out the abandoned truck, but he honestly had no idea where to go next.

He drove his rental to the closest quiet place he could find - it wasn't a long trip - and turned off the engine, getting out of the car to stare over the snow-covered pastureland.

He could see for miles in the cold December air.

Was he crazy for believing Blair was somewhere fairly near? Jim couldn't put his finger on why he was so convinced he was right - it was just a feeling he had, one he was fighting not to ignore. One of those feelings, those Sentinel feelings - the ones he'd so unjustly blamed on Blair over and over.

It pained Jim to admit that Brackett's phone call had done so much to explain Blair's reasons for leaving. In his own defense, Jim hadn't known what Blair was thinking. He'd been unaware that Blair so sincerely assumed his presence would endanger Jim, and Jim had truly had no idea Blair was so paranoiacally concerned about the government swooping him up, since he hadn't been particularly worried.

He'd never thought to set Blair straight on the subject of his own status vis-a-vis the government. Then, too, the various specimens of federal agents that he and Blair had seen while working together were definitely not democracy's best representatives - Brackett included.

He should have seen how genuinely upset Blair was the night after Simon offered Blair the badge.

"I can't do this. I can't be a cop. I'm not a cop, Jim. I'll get you killed, or worse."

In the midst of some really bitter accusations from Jim that Blair was behaving like a coward, generally over-reacting, and just making excuses to leave, Blair had paused and looked at him steadily.

"How long do you think either of us will live if I stay on as your official partner, Jim?"

That had sent an exasperated Jim slamming out of the loft, tired of their argument. By the time Jim got back, Blair Sandburg was gone, leaving only a note.

Jim,

Do whatever you want with my stuff. It doesn't matter. I'm sorry it ended like this. I wish-

If wishes were horses, right, man?

Be well.

Blair

Jim still kept the note with him and looked at it often enough that the paper was as worn and creased as he felt. Every day of Blair's absence added to the black hole in his heart, sucking all the pleasure of life right out of Jim. He'd known at the fountain that he couldn't live without Blair and he didn't understand why he'd ever let himself forget that.

He looked out at the setting sun and tipped his head back wearily.

"Where are you, Chief?"

"Why are you doing this?"

"Oddly enough, because I like you, beautiful Blair, and I don't like what Ellison did to you."

Blair was being fed - hand fed - by Brackett. He'd already been washed, dried, watered, and allowed the toilet - not that he'd gone without restraints.

It had been soul-destroying to have Brackett clean him afterwards.

He'd been walked around the lavishly furnished bedroom and stuffed into a chair while Brackett fueled the fireplace - a fireplace in a room that looked like a spread from Home and Garden magazine except for the incongruous laptop sitting on a glossy vanity table.

It wasn't hard for Blair to pick out the webcams placed around the room. He shrugged them off.

What's one more thing?

You're being brainwashed, Blair old boy, and Brackett's doing a better job than you are right now. Don't forget who you are.

Don't forget who he is.

He'd found Brackett's treatment of him good-humored, unoffended, and matter-of-fact ... although he'd also felt a bit like a well-tended family pet.

Now once again on the bed, Blair sat with his back to the headboard, hands shackled uselessly at his sides where the bondage cuffs attached to a soft leather and sheepskin belt. Its padded fasteners were well out of Blair's reach, and he couldn't do much beyond allowing Brackett to place another bite of food in his mouth.

The spreader bar Brackett was using on him kept Blair's knees bent and his legs splayed apart. Despite the liver-pinching vulnerability of his position, Blair didn't feel particularly afraid, even with Brackett's occasional leering hungry stare. Brackett was as naked as he and apparently untroubled by it, sitting cross-legged on the bed between Blair's feet.

Not that he's got anything to be ashamed of.

Kicking that thought out of his head, Blair watched the sunset through the balcony doors strike bright fire in Brackett's brown hair. He wished he didn't notice what an attractive man Brackett was; his muscular build, wide shoulders, tanned skin, and beach-bum good looks very easy on the eye.

Blair noticed one other thing. Brackett's chest was almost as furry as his own. He shivered inside when he remembered how that had felt rubbing over his nipples...

Blair didn't need his psych minor to tell him the implications behind his confused state of mind. Much of his brain had staged a revolution while it worked over Brackett's earlier speech, trying to fit Brackett's declarations into the known facts and understand the repercussions.

As for Brackett himself - Blair distantly admitted his opinion of Brackett was being influenced by the way Brackett was treating him.

Brackett wasn't hurting him physically. He'd kept his word. If Blair was a pet, he was a beloved one.

He didn't know what to make of that, either.

You know what that means. You know what's happening to you.

Yeah, he knew, but it was hard to stay pissed at Brackett - despite the webcams - when Blair was being treated by the man to so much sensual pleasure. Blair had to keep telling himself this was- What, exactly?

It is what it is.

You know what it is. What will you do?

This wasn't real and it wasn't going to change what Brackett was actually doing to him or what Jim might have done or anything else...

But you're fucked anyway, bucko! Why shouldn't you have this physical pleasure? You've lost everything else.

Blair shook his head, trying to stifle that particular mental voice. It was the one that often reminded him Jim doesn't love you that way and haven't you given up enough for your sentinel? Blair didn't like that voice - it sounded a lot like his mother's, actually - and he tried not to listen to it too often.

That voice didn't speak for the man Blair wanted to be.

This can only damage me if I let it. The choice he had was in letting Brackett's mindfuck victimize him completely.

God damn it, Im not a victim! Now or then!

"Jim didn't do anything to me. He had a right not to be outed as a sentinel. I had an ethical obligation to preserve his anonymity and his way of life. What I did, I did to fix things for him. It was my choice. He didn't make me do it."

I'm playing right into Brackett's hands by talking with him like what he's doing to me is okay.

"He didn't give you all the facts." Lee insisted silkily.

"Your facts don't change anything. I did what I had to," Blair insisted, temper sparkling behind those expressive blue eyes.

Lee had been watching Blair Sandburg think - the lightning flashes of comprehension, determination, and resolve like a lightning storm in that steady night-sky gaze.

He'd wanted Blair for years, but he'd accepted long ago that given Blair's feelings for Jim Ellison, he would never have Blair Sandburg as a lover except through force or coercion. Being a specialist in the art of finely applied pressure, Lee knew there was force and there was force.

He skillfully manipulated the paradoxes of his assault - and Lee wasn't fooling himself that it was anything but an assault. He knew what he was doing. He was plotting, at the least, to get Blair to accept his own pleasure at Lee's hands, given that Lee had taken complete responsibility for what was happening here.

And it was working even better than Lee had planned, because Blair was actually talking to him, which made it a good time to widen a certain chasm.

"But he let you leave him, little guide. Why? Did you think it would protect him? Or were you just tired of being his whipping boy?"

The faint derision in Brackett's last question shattered the spell Blair was under, firing instant rage. He snapped at Brackett's fingers as they approached his mouth.

Lee hastily withdrew from the range of Blair's teeth, popping the sweet seedless grape he'd been holding into his own mouth.

"Shut up about Jim, Brackett. Jim is none of your business," Blair said a bit unsteadily, shaken by the way Brackett was licking his lips and smiling at him.

You shouldn't watch him like that, Blair. Don't watch him like that.

"You're right, but you're my business," Brackett promised smoothly, his hand drifting over Blair's cheek, tucking the hair behind Blair's ear.

Blair shivered. He couldn't help it.

Standing, Brackett got off the bed and boldly sauntered nude to the dresser, pouring champagne into a single crystal flute. He sipped from it first then offered Blair a taste with an amused smirk.

"Good stuff."

Blair took a mouthful and spat it on Brackett's face.

Lee smiled, appreciating Blair's spirit.

"Hmm, Cristal-flavored skin. Good idea."

Setting the flute aside, Lee removed the spreader bar and tugged Blair by the ankles towards the foot of the bed; once again restraining Blair flat on his back, legs open as wide as those beautiful blue eyes.

"What are you-"

Lee filled his mouth with bubbly and went down on Blair.

The colors in the sky were becoming hazy under the approaching dusk, reminding Jim of his blue dreams.

He ignored the chilly air and slowed his breathing; trying to slide himself into the meditative state Blair had so painstakingly taught him to find.

Jim was hoping to voluntarily access that altered level of consciousness. He needed help - Blair needed help, now - and Jim didn't have time to waste on trying to deny his sentinel connection to an extended reality.

The transition from here to there came so rapidly that Jim nearly startled himself out of his near-trance.

Incacha was standing in front of him and he regarded the Chopec shaman with no little irritation.

"What took you so long?"

"What took you?" Incacha asked reasonably, which just made Jim even madder.

"Blair's in trouble-"

"He is in danger, yes, but his body is whole."

"What does that- Incacha, how do I find him? Please, help me find him."

"Your guide should be a song in your heart, Enqueri."

"I can't hear him!"

"Yes, you can, sentinel. Listen."

"Oh god! Oh god! God!"

Lee was enjoying himself immensely. Hands and mouth, fingers and tongue; he kept taking Blair right to the brink of orgasm then stopping, just so he could start all over again.

By the time Lee began the fourth round of this, Blair Sandburg was incoherent and writhing with need; that sharp mind reduced to chanting single syllables, body capable of nothing beyond his helpless responses to Lee's touches.

Right where Lee wanted him.

He licked the last of the champagne from Blair's lips - Blair was beyond trying to bite him now - and began to murmur hotly into Blair's ear while fingering Blair's tight balls and sweat-slick perineum.

"You want to come, beautiful Blair? Say my name. Say `Lee, let me come'."

"Noooooo. Can't."

Lee backed off to Blair's feet. He untied one - politely ignoring the rather pitiful kick Blair offered - and rolled Blair over.

Blair was caught between his sudden terror that Brackett was about to fuck him and the way the mattress felt pressing into his rigid, needy erection.

"Ah, god," he humped involuntarily, instantly hating himself and tensing up like a drawn bow. "No."

"You keep right on saying that, little guide. Jesus Christ, you are magnificent."

Blair swallowed back a sudden rush of tears. God help him, Brackett meant it and Blair believed him. Brackett's cutsie mocking nickname sounded like an endearment in the agent's husky voice.

This entire scenario was all so fucked up Blair couldn't begin to deal with what it was doing to his wildly fluctuating emotions.

And underneath everything else, Blair's heart grieved.

Why couldn't you be Jim? God damn you, Jim, why couldn't he be you? Why?

He was beyond shocked when Brackett moved to his head and began rubbing gently, warm hands gradually moving over his scalp, down the nape of his neck, and onto his shoulders. It felt almost as good as the sex had, settling his overworked nerves.

It's not sex, Blair. He is raping you. You can't let yourself lose sight of the fact this is against your will. You can't forget that.

He was equally helpless to stop himself from relaxing under Brackett's massage.

"Why are you doing this? You- you care about me."

"Yeah, in a stalkeresque, incestuous-brother kind of way," Lee lied with a carelessly friendly snicker. "I like you, Blair Sandburg. I really do. You never quit. Have you ever considered working for the government? Your country needs you."

Your guide should be a song in your heart. What the hell is that supposed to mean?

Jim opened his eyes and looked at his jaguar, who was regarding him with a feline sneer.

"You hear him, don't you?"

The jaguar snarled at him and walked off, promptly disappearing. Jim sighed, blinking until his vision cleared enough to reveal he was standing in full dark.

North. The jag went north.

So would he.

"You can*not* be serious," Blair said, muffling the words in his pillow.

"Fine. I'll be Remus, then," Brackett said, astonishing Blair to such an extent that Blair shifted to gape at the man. "Come on. Sirius and Remus were so doing it. Don't you think werewolf role play would be fun?"

Blair burst out laughing, simultaneously speared through the heart with another lightning bolt of self-hatred.

God help me, I like him. Oh, Jim.

His chuckles abruptly turned into harsh, tearing sobs.

"Oh, shit, you're making me laugh. You're doing it. Damn, you're good, Brackett," he said into his pillow, hiding his face. "You're fucking me up."

Lee rubbed those shaking shoulders and let out a low sigh, waiting until Blair quieted before he spoke again.

"It is a serious offer, Blair. The Army is screening recruits for enhanced senses and they have six volunteers as of last week. It's a new unit. None of them have all five enhanced like Ellison, but each has at least three and a couple have four. You could teach them a lot."

Brackett lay down beside Blair and brushed the hair out of the way, drying Blair's face with his fingers.

Don't take care of me. Don't do this. Don't be nice.

"Look at me, Blair," Brackett said firmly, waiting until Blair reluctantly met his eyes. "It's a serious offer," the agent repeated. "You have options. You can come in as a civilian consultant. The Agency will make sure you get your doctorate with your sentinel dissertation-"

"There are no copies-"

"Blair, babe, don't be naive. Of course our government has a copy. It's already being used at Walter Reed."

Blair went so pale that Lee knew he would have fainted had he been standing.

"This isn't some black ops program that's going to be hidden behind national security. These recruits have families and histories, too. They aren't being mistreated. No one is out to dissect them or experiment on them - beyond trying to help them maximize their enhanced senses.

"Blair, you teach sentinels. You could teach these young people things that might save their lives. You'd be a valued part of the team."

Lee kept his touch gentle and his tone soft, continuing to caress the side of Blair's face.

Brackett is stroking you in more ways than one. Do something about it! Fight!

"Lee- Lee, I don't understand. You set this whole thing up and raped me so you could make me a job offer?"

Blair forced his tone into defiance, although the effort exhausted him.

I'm so tired of fighting; myself most of all.

"The job offer's just part of the reason ... and I haven't quite finished raping you yet, little guide."

Jim started up Highway 283 and hoped he wasn't making a mistake.

North. Go north, Enqueri.

"Yeah, got that, Incacha, thanks."

Blair had to be all right. He had to be. Jim didn't think Brackett would kill Blair and he and Blair could work through anything else, together, the way they should have been. Should have stayed.

I should have told him. I should have said how much I love him instead of spending so much time convinced he was going to leave me that I ended up pushing him away. I should have begged him to stay.

I just need one more chance. I won't fuck it up again.

"Be all right, Chief."

Brackett gave Blair a whole body massage that left Blair limp and passive and nearly dozing. He was too out of it to protest when Brackett rolled him over again, doing nothing while Brackett released each restraint in turn to knead and range-of-motion his extremities.

By the time Blair was returned to his original position, he could do no more than gratefully hum as he accepted the cool water Brackett helped him drink. Blair was so deep in a post-adrenalin-surge, post-coital slump that even breathing felt like too much work. He couldn't even be bothered to care when Brackett lifted his head and put the plastic bottle to his lips, caring for him like he was some kind of baby.

"I'm not holding up too well," he noted with an exhausted sigh when he was finished.

It was the truth. Brackett had just about broken Blair with kindness and tender concern, where fists and pain would have never touched him. Blair knew it and would have felt thoroughly sorry for himself if he just didn't feel so damned good.

He sighed again.

Brackett gently placed his head back on the pillow then lay down beside him, propping himself on one elbow so he could finger-comb Blair's hair. Blair simply closed his eyes and allowed himself soak in that soothing touch, ignoring his own mental grin when his mind leaped automatically to comparisons with primate grooming behaviors.

"You're holding up just fine. Besides, I'm not out to break you, little guide, just redirect your thinking a little. And if it makes you feel any better to give me horrible motives, I'm also out to stick it to Jim Ellison. I think he's an idiot."

Blair felt his lips twitch at that rather artless admission; looking up at Brackett and letting out a reluctant chuckle.

Yeah, it's really low of Brackett to appeal to my sense of humor, he mocked himself distantly.

"Lee ... You win, man. Just give me an Uzi and a beret."

"You're no Patty Hearst."

"Tania. Call me Tania."

Lee grimaced, kicking himself for making Blair feel so defeated and then kicking himself again for letting that bother him. He rearranged the restraints until he could turn Blair to one side, spooning up behind his weary captive and holding Blair close.

Lee didn't fail to notice how good Blair felt in his arms, impressing it into memory for later lonely times.

"I prefer Blair. Beautiful Blair of the beautiful blue eyes. Why don't you close your eyes and take a little nap. Nothing bad is going to happen to you. I promise. I'll take care of you now and you can fight later when you aren't so tired."

Brackett's audible compassion threw Blair just that little bit more.

"Lee-"

"Shh. Rest, little guide."

Blair wondered if this was his hell. Sleeping in Lee Brackett's arms - the wrong arms - but they had stopped feeling completely wrong.

I'm in real trouble, here.

It was the last thing he thought before he drifted off.

Jim crossed the Kansas state line around four AM, keeping his route as close to due north as he could get. It was inside him now - a song in my heart - his feeling that Blair was still somewhere ahead but he was getting closer.

Jim didn't need to see the black shadow that intermittently appeared along his side of the road; occasionally separating itself from the night as if to say keep going this way.

Blair, Blair. I'm coming. Please be all right.

When Blair awakened, his erect cock was sliding into Brackett's lubed hole as Brackett lowered himself onto it. Blair held perfectly still after an initial, gasping thrust, allowing Brackett to take him at Brackett's own pace.

Too confused from heavy sleep to cobble together any barriers, Blair's responses were as simple and raw as the sensation of his cock being slowly enclosed in Brackett's hot ass.

"Lee. Fuck," he managed, closing his hands on Brackett's hips and steadying them both.

It wasn't until Brackett was fully impaled on his cock that Blair actually realized he was no longer restrained. By then, he didn't need to be. He couldn't have stopped for less than a bullet to the brain.

Incredible. He feels incredible. And what will you tell yourself later, Blairy-Wairy? That you were dreaming of Jim?

Later is later. This is now, and it feels so fucking fucking fantastic to fuck somebody who wants me and god damn me to hell, I know exactly who I'm with!

Blair couldn't do self-delusion. Not about this.

Brackett was squirming on Blair and moaning under his breath, head thrown back in obvious enjoyment.

"You feel like heaven, Blair," he groaned breathily, looking at Blair from under ridiculously lush eyelashes.

He's gorgeous. Isn't that why you're letting this happen? Shallow, Blair, shallow slut...

"So do you, Lee," Blair admitted truthfully to them both, though it made his heart ache.

You don't have to do this. He's not restraining you.

He doesn't have to restrain me and he knows it. We both do. He wants me. I want this. I want to fuck him for my own sake. I want to be in control, and he'll let me. It would be taking back my power.

Blair suspected that was the kind of self-justification that doomed civilizations, but he wasn't sure. He wasn't sure about anything any more, really.

Am I just digging myself in deeper? Do I know? Anyway, does it matter? Jim didn't want me.

Lee wants me.

Blair's pelvis arched involuntarily, physical reaction moving faster than conscious thought. His body knew what it wanted, and it had been conditioned to expect pleasure from this man.

Brackett's anus tightened on Blair's cock and Blair groaned - loudly - tightening his hands on Brackett's firm ass and pulling Brackett down onto him, screwing them together.

I don't care any more. Just this moment. Just this one time.

The long muscles in Brackett's thighs lifted him slowly off Blair's cock and then eased him back down. He sucked in a breath and panted as Blair's cock nudged his prostate.

"Oh, so good. You feel so fucking good, Blair."

God help me, you feel good too.

Blair rolled them over.

"Yes," Blair said.

Dodge City, Kansas.

In the pre-dawn dark it looked nothing like the town made famous in a hundred westerns. Jim stopped at a generic-looking convenience store and got some coffee, filling the gas tank and picking up some first aid supplies that he prayed he would not need for Blair.

He was so close now. He could feel it like a magnet drawing him.

Another hour to the northeast and I'll be with Blair.

At last.

Hooking Lee's knees in the crooks of his elbows, Blair spread Lee wide and fucked him hard, knowing neither of them was going to last. Lee's hands pulled at the backs of Blair's thighs as Lee threw himself into each thrust.

Wanting him.

"Was that a yes I heard, Blair?" Lee mocked huskily, his longing eyes on Blair's mouth.

"Yes. Yes. Fuck you, Lee, yes. I want to fuck you."

Pausing to rearrange Lee's legs, Blair waited until they were wrapped securely around his hips before resuming his rhythm. His hands went under Lee's shoulders and he cradled the man to him like a lover.

Just once. Just this once, with someone who wants me...

Nailing Lee's prostate with almost every stroke, Blair ground himself onto the sensitive underside of Lee's leaking cock, feeling it rub slickly against his belly.

It is good so good too good.

It was killing Lee Brackett, who'd never figured on being fucked like this, like he mattered to Blair, too. He'd never felt anything like what Blair was making him feel and it was moving him on levels beyond even this profound physical pleasure. It wasn't that he let himself respond to Blair like he hadn't responded to a sexual partner in years - Lee couldn't stop himself. He was totally out of control.

He couldn't take much more of this and his climax was going to ruin him, he realized distantly, dimly aware he was moaning.

"Soon ... Blair ... please?"

Lee wasn't ashamed to beg.

"You're- so polite. Are you close, Lee? I am," Blair admitted, enthralled by the way Lee shuddered beneath him, the way Lee's channel encircled his cock in slick hot satin; the way Lee's hands felt clutching his ass, fingers biting into Blair's skin as he was welcomed. Encouraged. Needed. Wanted.

"Yes," Lee hissed into the side of his head. "Yes, Blair."

Burying one hand in Lee's hair, Blair shoved into him and took his mouth; kissing and licking over Lee's lips until they softened and parted. Lee sucked at his tongue and tasted right back, until the rhythm of their kiss was echoed in the fucking. Lee's mouth was as hot and sweet as his ass and Blair luxuriated in both, reveling in the gathering tension of his oncoming climax.

Blair ended the kiss, gasping for breath.

"You can pretend I'm him if you want," Lee whispered and Blair heard the gates of hell swing open on the words.

To Blair's credit, he only considered it for a second.

"I know who you are, Lee Brackett. I don't need to pretend. You're a hell of a good fuck, for one," Blair said harshly, staring into Lee's eyes. Working his other hand between their bodies, Blair grasped Lee's rigid cock, stroking its slippery hot length with practiced speed. "And you're beautiful when you come."

Lee threw back his head and roared, convulsing beneath Blair, his ass tightening in arrhythmic spasms that shoved Blair right over the edge shouting with him.

"YES!"

"We did it bare."

"I wouldn't risk your life, little guide. Or mine."

Blair believed that.

"So, what's with the video?" He asked into the top of Lee's head - because he wasn't asking about that nickname. Lee was lying half on top of him, face tucked under his chin, and Blair snuffled into the sweat-damp silk of Brackett's thick hair.

Lee sighed, but didn't bother to move.

"I was going to send it to Ellison," he admitted with a frown Blair could feel. "What makes you think I'm not going to blackmail you with it?"

"Hey, if you want to blackmail an itinerant truck driver with nothing but a shitload of student loans to his name, you go right ahead. I've got nothing left to lose."

"That's not true." Lee reared up and inspected Blair's face, not sure what to think of that too-serene, untroubled expression. "Colonel Dale Van Arsdel is the doctor in charge of the unit at Walter Reed. He's hoping you'll come and at least visit. He was very impressed by your dissertation."

"You're shitting me."

Now there were emotions, Lee thought with a mental smirk as the expression on Blair's face went through a gamut of shock, anger, and disbelief.

"I am not. You are the acknowledged expert on sentinels in certain circles and too good a resource to disregard."

Blair shook his head, mouth open, staring at Lee like he was trying to mentally translate a foreign language.

"I read your diss too, by the way. Absolutely brilliant, particularly when added to your body of work," Lee added thoughtfully.

Blair's jaw worked soundlessly, then he scrubbed at his face with his hands.

"All that information about Jim is in the hands of-"

Lee rolled his eyes and laid his palm over Blair's mouth.

"His name is blacked out, although the higher-ups all know who he is, anyway. Stop assuming the government is after your sentinel, little guide. The Army doesn't particularly want a full sentinel. Too high-strung, too vulnerable, too prone to zone, too sensitive to negative environmental conditions. They wouldn't want Jim Ellison back in any case. Too old, too many injuries, too high-profile, too well-connected. You can stop worrying." Lee's lips quirked as he stared down into Blair's eyes. "No one is trying to get to Jim through you except me, and all I want to do rub his nose in his own stupidity. He should have cherished you."

I would, Lee thought but didn't say.

He waited until Blair's eyes calmed before he allowed Blair to speak.

"Jim's not stupid," Blair defended reflexively, his mind already jumping back to something else Lee had said. "'Visit'? You aren't- like, taking me there?"

"Blindfolded in bondage gear? It's a lovely idea ... but, no."

Lee kissed Blair gently - very gently - then rose from the bed.

"They're really using my diss at Walter Reed? Really?"

"You're about three steps behind, beautiful Blair. I told you, you haven't lost anything."

Except the most important thing. Jim. Blair pulled his shoulders in against a sudden chill.

He watched Lee move to the closet. Lee pulled out a robe that he put over Blair's shoulders before retrieving his own clothes, dressing with obvious - though unspoken - reluctance.

Blair began to understand Lee was leaving when Lee sat on the edge of the bed to tie his Nikes. Lee looked at him fondly, but there was regret in those dark gray eyes that Blair could see.

"Lee?"

"I'm going to miss you, Blair."

"You're not- you won't be in D.C.?"

"I have an overseas assignment. I won't be back in the U.S. for quite a while."

"Where are we now?" It occurred to Blair to wonder.

"We're in Kansas, Dorothy, not far from the Santa Fe trail near the Fort Larned historical site, northeast of Dodge City. There's a car in the garage that will get you wherever you want to go ... whether that's Cascade or D.C. or back to the Flying J in Sayre, for that matter. I put a credit card in your wallet with a balance that will cover your loans and then some. The PIN is the last four of your social."

Blair sat up and slipped into the robe properly, tying the belt around his waist. He was suddenly cold to his bones, although the sun was rising and the room was still warm from the dying fire.

"That's a lot of money for a few hours with a slut. "

"You're not a slut! Damn it, Blair!" Lee grabbed his shoulder and shook him; touching him in anger for the first time, Blair realized belatedly. "Don't say that! You're a normal, healthy man with a normal, healthy libido that I used against you. That doesn't make you a slut."

Blair wasn't so sure. He suspected he would never be sure.

"Look, it really isn't payment for your body, wonderful though it is," Lee insisted impatiently. "You're owed compensation for the use of your diss. It's not the millions you could have gotten but we're talking the government, here. It's not chicken feed, and I might add, it's also negotiable.

"Come here for a minute."

Lee shoved him bodily towards the desk where the laptop was. Making sure Blair was watching what he was doing, he stopped recording from the webcams.

"No internet feed. I wouldn't risk that for you." Lee indulged himself and retrieved a still; Blair, face caught in exquisite extremity at the moment of orgasm. "I wish I could keep that one. That's the expression Ellison better start putting on your face."

Ignoring Blair's sudden frozen shock, Lee crashed the system, wiped the hard drive, and smashed the CD he removed from the machine before he straightened and turned to Blair.

"I would give you everything," he murmured seriously, his hands cupping Blair's flushed face. "I can give you this. Ellison still cares, Blair. He's been looking for you all along. He's on his way here, now. I called him right before I took you hostage."

Blair's eyes went wide, his color faded, and had Lee not grabbed his arms, he would have swayed and fallen.

"Here?" He squeaked. "Now?"

"Soon. He's coming to your rescue. He thinks I'm abusing you. I may have raped you, but I didn't abuse you," Brackett added in an irritated grumble.

"Maybe you should slap me around a few times," Blair suggested unsteadily, his gaze fixed on the bed behind Lee's back.

Jim's gonna think- he's gonna think it was consensual, that I slept with Brackett by choice.

And I did, didn't I.

"Fuck. Just kill me now." Blair sank to his knees, put his hands over his face, and started weeping; quietly, hopelessly - almost soundlessly - his shoulders shaking with the force of his guilt-stricken sorrow. "Jim's gonna hate me."

Lee Brackett abruptly understood he was never, ever going to be the man he'd been before Blair Sandburg.

"Don't do that." He picked Blair up and carried him to the bed, hugging him tightly for just a moment until Blair's indignant aggravation with his high-handedness won out over that heartbroken grief. "If I thought there was a chance that Ellison would hate you I'd take you with me right now. He's your sentinel, he's never going to hate you, you big baby."

"Fuck off, Brackett." Blair squirmed off Lee's lap and sat beside him, instead, wiping his face with his sleeve and glaring at Lee. Lee had to bite his bottom lip to keep from laughing, relieved to see snarky Blair finally return with fight in his eyes.

"That's better. Take a shower, change the sheets - Ellison will be so hot to put his own scent markers on you he'll take you straight to bed and fuck you silly ... and since I didn't go there, you'll be pure enough in his eyes."

"I don't know if I hate your guts or love you," an obviously mystified Blair said slowly, shaking his head as he stared at Lee, blinking at his own words.

Hiding a pang, Lee shrugged.

"I have that effect on people. Don't forget, Colonel Dale van Arsdel at Walter Reed in D.C. wants to see you about a job, Doctor Sandburg."

Lee patted Blair's cheek, gave him a grin and a saucy wink, and then stood and walked away.

It was one of the hardest things Lee Brackett had ever done.

The bathroom was as well equipped as any high-class hotel's. Blair took a shower, not sure what it meant that he didn't have some stereotypical urge to scrub his skin raw - although he did wash himself thoroughly, head to toe, even brushing his teeth while still standing under the steamy spray.

He hadn't intended to shave, but the instinct to hide his face was so strong he chose to fight it, shaving closely and tightly tying back his wet hair with the first rubber band he found.

Vaguely relieved that Brackett hadn't marked him, he dried off and looked for something to wear. The clothes he'd had on when he'd been abducted were in a pile on the closet floor, so he opted for the clean ones hanging above them. Designer stuff like he'd never buy for himself, in his size - name brand black jeans that fit like he'd owned them for years, silk boxers and a soft cotton tee in eye-catching red, and a dark navy shirt that Blair assumed at first was flannel, but turned out to be dyed chamois; unbelievably soft, pliable, and warm.

His wallet was on the dresser. He pulled out the credit card Brackett had left in there and studied it for a long while.

Compensation for the use of my diss, huh. And negotiable.

Oddly enough, he believed Brackett and kept the card, sliding his wallet into his back pocket.

Sighing, Blair inspected himself in the mirror. In his own eyes, he looked pale and grim and ten years older than he had this time yesterday. He didn't see how the dark navy shirt intensified the color of his eyes while the red tee lent his pallor a slight glow; nor did he notice that his severe hairstyle made his cheekbones look like they could cut glass, emphasizing the tilt of his eyes and the full shape of his mouth.

His slightly swollen, slightly reddened mouth.

Blair removed the sheets, firmly closing the bedroom door on the big bare mattress and the bondage gear hanging off the four-poster frame. He started the washer, found the kitchen fully stocked, and was on his second cup of coffee when it occurred to him to wonder just whose house this was. Despite its size and elegant decor, it had an unoccupied atmosphere that made Blair think Brackett must have rented some model home sight unseen.

There was bacon in the fridge and Blair fried it gratefully, glad for its pervasive smell. He even managed to eat a slice with a piece of dry toast.

Leaving his shoes under the kitchen table, he wandered from room to room for a while, starting to come out of his shock - and Blair was deeply shocked by everything that had happened; so shocked he was mostly numb with it. He wondered - a little - why he was waiting here for Jim when he could just get in the car and drive away, completely avoiding what was sure to be a difficult scene.

Fleeing the scene is more like it. And you'll scare Jim. He'll think Brackett's dumping your body somewhere.

Blair almost wished that was true.

How long are you going to wait? Do you really think Jim will show up?

Lee said Jim was coming.

Blair had to ask himself just when he'd started relying on Lee Brackett's word.

And how sad is that, Blair?

`Another hour to the northeast' had been `as the crow flies', of course, and Jim hadn't taken into account the vagaries of the state highway system and morning traffic patterns.

He was about five miles from Blair when a voice - transmitting on a frequency that only Jim and dogs could hear - began speaking. To him.

"Find somewhere to pull over, Ellison. I want to talk to you. Do it now," the voice insisted - Brackett's voice.

"God damn it."

Jim pulled off in the deep verge at the side of the two-lane road he was currently essaying; out of patience with the way his sense of Blair's location was at war with the ways the roads wanted to curve. He'd almost decided it would be faster to get out and walk, anyway.

He sat and waited, lowering the car's window and breathing in the cold air while he tried to cool his temper.

"I'll assume you've stopped. You need to hear this, and for gods sakes listen and don't fuck it up this time. Do you have any idea what a lucky bastard you are?"

Jim's head rocked back as the raw emotion in Brackett's voice hit him like a slap. Envy, grief, fury, satisfaction, exasperation ... even amusement, in a range from wry to tender that made Jim blink in surprise. He'd never heard the rogue agent so - unwrapped.

"He still loves you. Go figure. Listen."

//"Fuck. Just kill me now. Jim's gonna hate me."// Blair's voice and Blair-

"He was crying. Blair was crying. Now I'm going to hell." Brackett laughed but the sound was bitter in Jim's ears. "Please tell me you're not going to hate him, because if you storm in there and hurt him I will kill you and it will upset him. And you'd better keep that in mind because it's going to remain true for the rest of my life, Ellison. Believe me, you owe me big."

//"Don't do that."// Jim heard Brackett's recorded voice and could tell Brackett had been close to Blair at the time - very close, as in, face-to-face. //"If I thought there was a chance that Ellison would hate you I'd take you with me right now. He*'s your sentinel, he's never going to hate you, you big baby."//

//"Fuck off, Brackett."//

Blair's aggravation was audible. Jim also heard how far apart their voices became then - still much closer than he liked.

//"That's better. Take a shower, change the sheets - Ellison will be so hot to put his own scent markers on you he'll take you straight to bed and fuck you silly ... and since I didn't go there, you'll be pure enough in his eyes."//

//"I don't know if I hate your guts or love you."//

Jim clenched his jaw at the shaky bewilderment in Blair's voice. Putting one hand over his eyes and forcing himself to stay calm, he breathed deeply and recognized what had happened.

Oh, Chief. He really did a number on you.

//"I have that effect on people. Don't forget, Colonel Dale van Arsdel at Walter Reed in D.C. wants to see you about a job, Doctor Sandburg."//

"That's a legitimate job offer, Ellison, and there's nothing covert about it. Blair would be hired as a civilian consultant. The Army has a unit of young soldiers with enhanced senses they want Blair Sandburg to teach. You can check the doctor out yourself. They probably wouldn't turn you down as an advisor, but nobody's going to reactivate your commission if you're living openly as Blair's lover, so there's some enlightened self-interest for you if you need a fucking excuse."

"I don't need a fucking excuse, asshole," Jim muttered out loud; longing, and not for the first time, for a chance to wrap his hands around Brackett's throat.

"Blair deserves his doctorate. Blair deserves to be happy. I want Blair to be happy. Blair needs you to be happy. Simple. Are you starting to connect the dots, O Great Sentinel? Are the words small enough? You'd better walk in there, take him in your arms and prove exactly how much you missed him. Don't let him think he's dirty or soiled from being in my arms ... and he was. Several times."

There was no mistaking the satisfaction in Brackett's tone. Jim blanched and scrubbed his face with his hands.

"Oh, no. Jesus, Blair. I'm sorry."

"I didn't hurt him physically but I- I know what I did to him hurt him. You can fix that. He wanted you. He loves you.

"And so, you live. You'd better make him happy and be sure he stays that way."

The carrier tone was gone and so was Brackett's voice. Jim shook himself, resetting his hearing to a more average range.

Then he sat there, watched cows graze, and `processed' everything that he'd just learned.

It was almost nine in the morning by the time he pulled up at the large house near the edge of the historic preserve. He left his coat in the car and got out, listening. He could already hear Blair's heartbeat - the song in his heart and the only heartbeat there. It was the only one in the world that mattered, as far as Jim was concerned.

"CHIEF!?!?"

Blair opened the front door. Jim didn't waste any time, bounding up the single step to take Blair in his arms. The tiny flinch Blair gave cut Jim to the bone. He squeezed Blair against him and buried his face in Blair's hair; waiting until Blair's arms went around him and awkwardly hugged back before he spoke.

"Blair. God, I've missed you so much."

"Jim. I've missed you, too."

Setting his hands on Blair's shoulders, Jim pushed him back for inspection, taking in the strain on Blair's face and the heartbreak in his stormy eyes ... as well as the rosy pout of those swollen lips.

Jim caught himself growling low in his throat, his thumb moving over Blair's bottom lip. Blair was looking at him apprehensively, and Jim realized Blair assumed Jim was angry with him when nothing could be further from the truth.

He couldn't spare the time to reassure Blair, though.

He started inspecting the rest of Blair with intent, picking up Blair's hands and pushing Blair's sleeves up. The skin around Blair's lower wrists was slightly bruised, although it wouldn't be visible to non-sentinel eyes. Jim also spotted faint patches of beard-burn on Blair's throat and jaw, and found the echoes of hot spots on Blair's skin even through Blair's clothes; places where hands had clutched just a little too tightly to Blair's back, ass, and legs, fracturing fragile surface capillaries.

The next time Jim had a clear conscious thought, he was on his knees at Blair's feet with his arms wrapped around Blair's thighs, holding on like a drowning man.

And Blair was responding to his touch; cock half-hard under Jim's chin.

"Did Brackett hurt you, Chief?" Jim's tone of voice was so icy he made himself shiver; clinging to Blair despite the way Blair had gone stiff and motionless within his arms. "Please, Blair, tell me. Are you hurt?"

"No. No, he didn't hurt me. Jim, man, let me go. You- I can't-"

I can't be this close to you, Blair would have said it if he were able. Jim sniffed at his groin and Blair almost bit his tongue, he was that shocked. Standing, Jim flowed up Blair's body with lithe jaguar quickness, making Blair's balls promptly forget how many times they'd recently been emptied.

Jim leaned into him, staring down into his eyes with narrow, focused attention. Blair didn't have time for more than a breath before Jim was crowding him back through the front door and into the house, herding him towards the nearest sofa.

"Jim, wait. You- what are you doing? You don't really want to do this- this, well, whatever this is. Oh. This is some kind of territorial thing, isn't it?"

That unhappy little question got to Jim and startled him out of reacting, making him think, instead.

"It could be," he said, grabbing Blair's hips and reversing their positions, pushing Blair into sitting before Blair could protest. "But it isn't."

Blair landed on the low sofa with a gasp. Jim sat next to him.

Blair's eyes on Jim were wide and shocked. It occurred to Jim that he should ease up on the manhandling, but he wasn't going to completely stop going on his instincts. He needed to touch Blair; needed that constant contact - needed to be a lot closer, actually. Needed to check his guide from head to toe and satisfy all his senses that Blair was truly physically unharmed.

Jim also wanted Blair to smell like him instead of Brackett, and damn Brackett for being right about that, too.

It hadn't escaped Jim's notice that there was surveillance equipment in the house. He could just hear the buzz and decided, this once, to forgive Brackett for it. If their situations were reversed, Jim would want to be certain of Blair's well-being, too.

Still, the knowledge was enough to provoke Jim into corralling his senses and their concomitant urges.

Taking Blair's hands in his own, Jim lifted them to his face and held them there, closing his eyes for a moment to appreciate the fine tremor in Blair's cool fingers while he sought control.

"Do you want to file charges against Brackett?"

"What would be the point? And here? In bumfuck Kansas? I think they still have anti-sodomy laws on the books. I wouldn't, anyway. He didn't hurt me. Let's just leave it alone." Blair tried to tug his hands away, but Jim wouldn't let him.

"He's not above the law, Chief," Jim said, although Brackett might as well be and they both knew it. "I'm sorry I didn't get here sooner, before he- before he-"

"Before he seduced me, you mean? Is that the word you want?" Blair's eyes frosted over with defensive anger.

"No, Chief. That's not what it was." Jim pulled Blair into a close embrace, sighing in relief when Blair gradually relaxed against him. "Brackett forcibly abducted you - I smelled the ether in the truck. He held you hostage and sexually assaulted you. That's rape, buddy. I smell you both, and you've been crying. You never cry. That's not you. Are you sure you're not hurt?"

Jim removed Blair's hair tie. A plain green rubber band off a newspaper, he noted with a frown as he combed out the still-damp strands with his fingers.

Thankfully, he never knew how close Blair came to asking "What IS IT with YOU GUYS and MY HAIR?"

"I'm not physically injured. I admit, my head's pretty messed up about the whole thing. It- it may have started as assault but by the time it was over it wasn't- it was more- Brackett didn't hurt me," Blair insisted, confessing like the words were being chiseled out of him with a pickaxe. "So no charges. The case would never stick," he added, tensing as though he thought he was going to be struck.

Jim just held on and forced himself not to react negatively, distracting himself by twining little curls around his fingertips.

"Okay, Chief. Whatever you need."

Blair wondered whether Jim would act and sound so worried if Jim knew how enthusiastically not non-consensual things had gotten only hours earlier. He tried to ignore that and let himself enjoy being in Jim's arms. It felt nice. Familiar, mostly - but he couldn't ignore the charged sensuality in Jim's playing with his hair. Lee Brackett really had done a masterful job of conditioning Blair to find that touch arousing, and Blair found his usual level of self-control around a proximal Jim failing him.

Uneasy, Blair shifted aside to pull himself out of Jim's embrace. It hadn't escaped his notice that Jim didn't seem to be reacting to his body the same way, which fueled uncomfortable suspicions about pity and comfort in Blair's mind.

"I'm fine, Jim."

Jim caught his face and stopped him, those long-fingered, elegant hands unbearably gentle.

"You're not fine, Blair."

"I will be. I just need to-"

"-process?" Jim finished for him. "What he did hasn't changed who you are."

"'Who am I now?'" Blair quoted with soft irony. "I don't seem to know."

"Then I'll remind you," Jim said firmly. "You're my friend. My best friend. You're my guide. You're my heart and half my soul and I'm miserable without you.

"And I've been in love with you since the second time I pushed you up against a wall. I've been so shitty to you-"

"Jim, no. You-"

"Please, let me finish. I know I acted like an asshole about the diss and a lot of other things, too. I don't have an excuse except that I was- I was scared for reasons that all stopped being relevant when you were gone. Then nothing else mattered."

Jim saw the surprise in Blair's eyes and hated himself for his part in putting it there, particularly when Blair's face crumpled into a pained grimace.

"I'm sorry, too, Jim. I fucked up. I was- I was scared, too. I still am," Blair admitted in a hoarse whisper.

"Since we're both sorry and both scared can we just put it behind us? Let the bad go?" Jim pleaded, sliding off the couch to kneel between Blair's feet.

Blair opened his eyes and stared into that dear, beloved, anxiously hopeful face. Jim looked tired; dark smudges under his eyes, new lines in his face, and a slight gauntness to his cheeks ... but his gaze clung brightly to Blair like he was witnessing a miracle, just because Blair was sitting there.

Blair wanted to believe in that look and the words Jim was telling him. He wasn't sure he had the strength.

"Can we do that?" he asked doubtfully, brain skittering over all the things Lee Brackett had told him. "Brackett said-"

"Yeah, your psycho boyfriend had a lot to tell me, too." Jim's lips curved in a sad little lopsided smirk that countered the rough tease in the words. "Some of it was even true, but I swear, Chief, I didn't know you thought your presence would endanger me. We should have talked-"

"Yeah, that was my fault. You're right. We should let it go, Jim," Blair urged quietly, far from anxious to exhume his reasons for leaving Cascade. "What were you scared of?" It occurred to him to ask.

"Mostly? Living without you, Chief, and it was just as awful as I knew it would be. I never want to do it again." Jim's grave tone was a testament to the truth in his words.

"Yeah. It was awful for me, too," Blair admitted, briefly freezing as Jim leaned into him and rubbed their cheeks together. "Lonely."

"I know," Jim whispered, nuzzling his way back towards Blair's lips, backing off when Blair flinched again. "Brackett did hurt you," he growled under his breath. "Blair-"

"No. No, that's not- not exactly what the problem is." Blair drew himself upright and put some distance between them before he made himself tell the truth.

He would have rather lied.

"Jim, Brackett- He made me- He- Brackett's very ... skilled. He didn't hurt me. Uh, the opposite, really. He made sure I- I responded to what he was doing and my nerves are still ... a little raw. I can't be this close to you right now without getting- uh, you know, turned on. I know you don't feel-"

Jim had never been more proud of Blair's bravery, or more compelled to commit homicide where Brackett was concerned.

"What I feel is not so much, because I've got touch suppressed to keep myself from jumping you," Jim informed Blair honestly, watching the words chase some of the shadows out of Blair's eyes. "I thought you were afraid to be touched, especially after the way I behaved when I first got here. And you don't have to explain anything about Brackett, whatever happened."

Jim felt his face flush and he had to force himself to look Blair in the eyes, but Blair needed to hear the words and Jim finally understood that. He could do it - would do anything - to make Blair look happier.

"Chief, as far as I'm concerned nothing matters as much as knowing you're safe and having you with me. You had no way of knowing I was on my way-"

"He didn't tell me until just before he left," Blair confirmed quietly.

"It doesn't matter. You understand what I'm saying? How- What Brackett- It doesn't matter," Jim said again, hoping Blair wouldn't press him. Brackett was a professional. Brackett was also in love with Blair. Jim had no doubt Brackett showed Blair a good time as he twisted Blair's mind. He might love Blair enough to be glad Blair hadn't been physically harmed, but Jim still couldn't completely suppress his automatic jealousy, wondering if Blair had felt the same way.

"Look, Chief, whatever happened, I can't exactly throw stones."

"Yeah. Man." Blair rubbed his face, thinking of Lila, Veronica, and Alex, which actually made him feel a little better. "I guess we're even. That sounds stupid but it's right and I don't mean it in a bad way," he added, shaking his head a little and frowning at Jim. "Do you understand what I mean? We- uh, we have to quit making assumptions, here."

Jim 's muscles were bunching involuntarily as the back of his mind busily supplied questions about Lee Brackett's skills and what Brackett had done to Blair. Nodding, Jim was glad to distract himself with Blair's question.

"Yeah, I do. So what were you assuming?" He asked quickly.

"I thought- I'm afraid you think- I'm dirty. Used."

"No, Blair. No. Not possible."

Jim felt his eyes burn, abruptly near tears and shocked by how hoarse his voice was, thick with Blair's pain.

"I thought you wouldn't really want to- touch me," Blair continued in a low whisper, breaking Jim's heart with this hesitant confession. Blair turned his face away, flushing hot; shame and grief and pain and self-hatred and a hundred other emotions rising off his skin in scent messages that Jim could plainly sense.

//"Don't let him think he's dirty or soiled from being in my arms."//

God damn you, Brackett. I'm going to kill you. Slowly.

"Did Brackett make you think that?" Jim asked, almost afraid to hear the answer as he gently cupped Blair's chin in one hand, turning Blair back to meet his eyes. "Did he make you feel dirty?"

"No. I mean, not intentionally. I kinda did that to myself," Blair admitted, lifting one shoulder in a tired shrug. "Then you- ah, do you-"

"Uh, what?" Jim mocked gently, giving Blair that crooked grin that just melted Blair's heart every single time.

"Do you want me?" Blair asked hesitantly, his eyes peering into Jim's and seeing only truth. "You've never indicated-"

"Apparently, I hid a lot of things too well," Jim said, reaching out to take Blair's face in both hands. "My skin aches to feel yours. It always has."

Jim saw his words sink into Blair, who blinked at him and then, incredibly, started smiling; an expression of shining tentative happiness unlike any Jim had ever seen from Blair.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. You did a pretty good job of hiding it, too, Sandburg."

"I had to. You mattered too much- I couldn't lose you and I was so afraid to see- see a rejection in your eyes I couldn't take the chance. You knew I was a- a spineless goober," Blair added, his smile dimming and his eyes hurt again. "I lost you anyway."

Jim shook Blair's head `no'.

"That will never happen, Blair. I give you my word. Together in all things, starting now, wherever we go."

"Go?" Blair was staring at Jim like he'd never seen him, beautiful face glowing; touched and amazed and almost smiling again, visible love warming those deep blue eyes.

Jim could see the moment at which Blair believed him - believed in him once again - and felt suddenly awed by his great good fortune. Brackett was right. He was a lucky bastard. He wouldn't forget it, nor abuse Blair's forgiveness, ever again.

This didn't mean Jim had to like the fact that Brackett was the one who pointed that - and so much else - out to him.

And Jim was quite aware that Brackett was figuring into this all too prominently for both of them.

"Brackett also told me about the unit at Walter Reed," he admitted calmly enough - he thought - barely clenching his jaw against a dull swell of jealous anger. "Maybe we should check it out. Teaching the soldiers who defend this country is still protecting the tribe and I could take a leave of absence from the PD. If you want to."

Jim grimaced inside. He hadn't meant his tone to sound at all begrudging but he knew he'd failed. Blair was grinning, though, his eyes more than a little amused, letting Jim know Blair understood why.

"Brackett won't be there."

"He'd better not be," Jim growled and watched the humor in Blair's eyes glow ... along with something else, something deeper; something that was responding to Jim's attitude, hearing the claim behind Jim's words.

Blair's hands landed on Jim's shoulders and squeezed gently; the first time Blair had voluntarily reached for Jim since the hug at their initial reunion, Jim noticed.

"He wasn't you," Blair murmured, speaking directly into Jim's head, or so it felt to Jim, who closed his eyes and sighed, leaning their foreheads together. "He was never you. I love you, Jim, and it's you I want."

Leaning in, Jim scented Blair's breath, inhaling the revelation of faith Blair exhaled.

"What do you want, Chief?" he husked over Blair's mouth, teasing them both with that almost touch.

Blair's head tipped back and Jim inhaled deeply, his straining senses making his back arch.

"I want you," Jim added in a whisper that made Blair quiver.

"Jim ... we could blow this joint and get a hotel room," Blair offered quietly, his hands on Jim's neck keeping their heads together. "You'd probably be more comfortable somewhere else."

"You'd think, wouldn't you?" Jim hadn't forgotten the surveillance equipment, but he couldn't deny a certain urge to rub Brackett's face in what was - hopefully - about to happen. Opening his senses fully, Jim absorbed the faint lingering odors of passion at the molecular level - sentinel - level, admitting his instincts were telling him to overlay Brackett's scent with his own. "I don't want to come across as an insensitive jerk, but I don't care where we are."

"Neither do I," Blair sighed just before Jim kissed him.

Jim hummed as Blair's lush lips parted warmly against his; Blair yielding to his kiss with a fresh startled wonder that Jim drank like fine wine.

Jim's mouth searched his and Blair felt something in himself that Lee Brackett had never managed to trigger; a joyful internal surrender as Blair willingly put himself in Jim's keeping. He was Jim's, heart, body, and soul. He always would be, in the most fundamental ways.

The kiss grew wild as Jim sensed Blair's reaction and responded to it. Jim's strong body pressed into Blair with insistent hunger - hunger that Blair could taste and feel all around him. He found himself pulled off the edge of the sofa; on his knees facing Jim, one of Jim's hands fisted in his hair. Blair moaned when the other went to his lower back and pushed.

And god, Jim was hard, hard for him.

"I want you, Chief. Now. But it's okay if you don't-"

"Yes," Blair said into Jim's mouth, adoring the luxury of giving willing consent. "Jim, yes. I want you now."

Later, Jim would realize that was the moment at which conscious thought had simply shut down. He broke the kiss and took Blair down to the plush carpet, trying to cover Blair with every part of him ... his hands already working under Blair's shirts, reaching for the tender skin of Blair's flanks.

Throwing back his head, Jim groaned as he filled his sense of touch with that longed for skin, so smooth and warm.

"Mine!"

"God!" Blair cried, arching against Jim before scrabbling for his sweater, sliding one hand under to stroke over Jim's low back. "So warm."

Jim was moving against him, thrilling Blair with each needy thrust; Jim's passion for him making Blair feel weak and boneless and empty. This was Jim and Blair had wanted Jim for so, so long; aching to have Jim wanting him, too.

Jim knelt up, trapping Blair between his strong thighs, stripping off his own sweater and tee before going for Blair's shirts; which he pulled over Blair's head with a low breathy noise. He threw them to one side before carefully inspecting Blair's upper body, his intent examination based on more than vision. Blair writhed as Jim added scent, taste, and touch to his careful assessments, gently nuzzling Blair's chest hair to lick over a rigid nipple.

"Gah! Jim! Please!" Blair held Jim's head against his chest, gasping when careful teeth closed on his skin, hardwiring his chest to his balls in a surge of hot lust. "Want you."

"Chief," Jim murmured, sliding down to bury his face in Blair's groin, rubbing his cheek against the firm length under the denim. "Mine."

They were the only words Jim knew as he filled himself with the scent of Blair's hunger for him.

"Yours."

Jim lifted Blair and turned him, letting Blair brace his arms on the sofa's low seat while he curled over Blair's back. Taking a moment to look and admire, Jim lifted the hair off Blair's nape to mouth a strong tendon, blindly adoring the way Blair's warm back felt supporting his weight.

Blair pushed into him, firm ass against Jim's groin, sending a flood of urgency over them both.

Determined hands at Blair's waist unbuttoned his jeans and lowered his zipper. Jim's fingertips caressed the silk covered length of Blair's cock, making him gasp and moan. That his sentinel was enthralled with the cloth was maddeningly apparent. Jim kept stroking him; slowly, slowly, until Blair was shaking and damp with sweat that Jim kept licking off his back with low grunts of approval.

Blair shivered as Jim pushed his jeans to mid-thigh, hands all over those silk boxers now, molding them to Blair's skin. Jim was growling now, low and barely audible. The sound traveled directly to Blair's groin.

A curious finger pressed the silk into his crease and rubbed over his asshole, making Blair buck.

All he could say was a breathless confused litany of Jim's name and `yes' and `please', moaning when Jim's finger kept circling his hole through the material.

"Mine," Jim declared again, pulling Blair's boxers down. Jim was lost in pure sensation; the fragrant warmth of Blair's sweat-slick skin, the way the silk clung to each curve of muscle and crevice of flesh when he pushed it back up, fascinated by the way it moved over Blair. The sounds Blair was making and the salt-sweet taste of him had taken Jim's mind and whited it out with hunger. "Up."

One word at a time was about all Jim could coherently do. Blair didn't seem to mind, pushing into his hands like this was all he'd ever wanted and Jim was startling to believe Blair was telling the truth there. A distant part of Jim - that he didn't particularly admire - was analytically asking him Do you think he was like this with Brackett? but his heart was telling him no.

Jim could see the marks from restraints and careless fingers on Blair's body. He'd already figured out who got fucked. While he'd like to pretend that didn't matter to him, Jim had to admit that it did, fiercely glad Brackett hadn't fucked Blair. Jim knew the way he felt about Blair was too primal, seated too deep; but he also knew Blair was his. That's what Blair's body was screaming, shaking under his hands, responding to him.

He urged Blair onto the sofa, stripping Blair's jeans and boxers off as Blair moved; making Blair kneel on the seat cushion, hands on the sofa back.

Still kneeling behind Blair, Jim palmed Blair's beautiful ass and spread him open to taste, drowning in the scents of soap and water and essential Blair. Ignoring Blair's loud wail, Jim licked repeatedly across Blair's anus, fascinated by the crinkly texture of the skin as it tightened then loosened under his tongue.

Blair's cock hung heavy and huge, thumping against Jim's exploring fingers, and Blair was so close to the edge now that his furry balls had drawn high and firm.

"Jim god please just yes yes again again yes!" Blair begged and Jim obliged, his entire body tuned to the way Blair was coming apart at the seams.

Opening his own jeans, Jim shoved them down to his knees, slicking one fingertip on his own pre-ejaculate and spit. He sighed with the miserably good way his own cock ached in response to being freed and touched but he didn't linger, gathering the thin fluid and rubbing it into Blair; working one finger inside the guardian muscle and groaning at Blair's inner heat, so much finer in its texture than the thin silk had been.

Aware of nothing but Jim's finger stretching him, Blair was finding it impossible to think, wanting nothing but more of Jim. What started as a thick, burning intrusion quickly transmuted into `not enough', making him whimper and shudder as Jim fingerfucked him.

Jim's fingertip brushed over his prostate; the pleasure shooting sparks behind Blair's eyes as he heard himself plead in a raw, broken tone.

"Fuck me now Jim now. Want you in me."

"Yes. Mine."

But Jim's mouth closed on the firm curve of Blair's ass cheek, the sharp pain hitting something deep inside Blair that just rolled over and howled. He was so close to coming he'd been holding his breath - holding back - and Jim's possessive bite both zinged him with pleasure and ordered a submission Blair hadn't known he wanted to give.

Gasping for air, Blair stilled instinctively, letting the lingering dull ache from the bite force his climax back, even while it throbbed through his lower body on a bass beat of need.

He'd rarely ever bottomed. It had never felt like this, like he was a willing possession as well as one beloved ... and Jim's care of him made him Blair feel treasured, wanted, and owned.

The contrasts and similarities between the way Jim was treating him and the way Brackett had treated him chose that moment to step into Blair's mind, further helping him calm. Brackett's passion was no less sincere, twisted though it was- and Blair had had to admit to himself it was both - but sex with Brackett felt nothing like making love with Jim. Blair could feel the difference soul deep in them both. Every part of Blair was assured that Jim really did want him desperately. He was equally certain Jim wouldn't hurt him.

Jim would never hurt him. The sworn promise was in every touch.

Blair fell in love all over again in a mental rush so incredible it drowned out the way his balls were aching.

"God, I love you," he said. He had to say it. He felt Jim smile against his ass.

"Mmm, yes. Love you. Mine."

"Yours, yes. I know. I really know," Blair gasped. Jim stood behind him and began to enter him, slick cockhead pressing inexorably against his loosened anus, which opened to let Jim inside. The dull pressure made Blair groan, piercing him with mingled pain and pleasure. He dropped his shoulders and yielded. It hurt and felt good at the same time, the strong burn filling Blair with incredible heat.

Blair's emotional reactions were shaking him just as soundly, resonating into his arousal with a strength that united his entire being. He was giving every bit of himself into Jim's keeping, not just his body; Jim's completely ... and, ironically, re-uniting with the half of his soul that Jim had been keeping since that day at the fountain.

Blair felt whole for the first time in years.

More irony, he thought a little wildly, since Jim was splitting him in half...

"Oh, please, Jim. More, more of you. Love this. Love you fucking me-"

Jim groaned, shoving his cock inside Blair's hot depths a little faster than he'd actually intended to, despite his satisfaction with Blair's readiness. He didn't intend this to be a rough fuck no matter what Blair's body and half his instincts were screaming. The other half were screaming protect Blair and Jim had been listening to those instincts for a long time.

Still, Jim knew just how much Blair could safely take and how fast. It was knowledge his body automatically accounted for.

He pulled Blair against him, molding his chest to Blair's warm skin. Jim felt filled with Blair; like Blair was becoming more and more a part of him as he bottomed out in Blair's hot, grasping ass.

"Mine, Blair."

"God. Yes. Yours," Blair managed, trusting Jim's strength and leaning back, head on Jim's shoulder, arms winding over his head to loop around Jim's neck. "So close..."

Jim rocked his hips subtly, one hand squeezing Blair's cock, his other catching Blair's chin, turning Blair's face towards Jim's mouth.

"Yours," he whispered out over Blair's lips.

Blair shattered in his arms.

Completely lost to anything but the sheer overwhelming power of a climax both anticipated but unexpected, Blair went limp, shoving Jim's hard cock even deeper inside him. He barely heard himself wail Jim's name, or the following inarticulate sustained note of raw triumph.

Jim was coming inside him in an orgasm so equally intense that Blair's consciousness simply stepped aside, leaving nothing beyond his convulsing body, which could feel Jim's pleasure like his own in synchronous explosions.

Jim bit down on Blair's shoulder, marking him, drawing out Blair's peak until Blair was completely blind and deaf with white light and ecstasy; the sensation as pure as their spirit merge and as powerfully binding.

Jim felt Blair's skin tear under his teeth as he poured himself into Blair's arhythmically clenching ass. Blair's nerves fired their response against Jim's own skin like arc lightning; sheeting along Jim's spine to strike violent pulses of pleasure from his balls.

Slick warmth eased his thrusts and the path of Blair's jerking cock in his hand. The mingling scents of their come satisfied a primitive part of Jim's brain; that part so connected to Blair by his wide-open senses that their reactions fed into each other in mind-bending surges. The shared orgasm intensified until Jim had to throw back his head and roar or pass out - which wasn't an option since Blair was still quivering and senseless.

Blair was so lost in Jim that Jim could feel Blair inside his own head, part of him. A song in my heart.

That sensation didn't fade as he clung to Blair and started to come down.

"Mine, my Blair, my guide," Jim whispered, licking over the wound he'd made on Blair's shoulder, imprinting the taste of Blair's blood even while his brain began to slowly engage.

"Yours, my Jim, my sentinel," Blair whispered back, grounded by the rasp of Jim's tongue. He slowly gained the presence of mind to move his arms and help Jim support him, letting Jim move them where Jim wanted them to go.

Jim turned them to lie along the sofa, managing to stay inside Blair by virtue of the fact that he was still erect.

Blair squirmed on Jim's cock as Jim settled atop of him like a strong hot blanket; adoring the way Jim's hands slid under his chest and trapped his arms at his sides. Very privately, Blair noted to himself that he seemed to have developed a bit of a kink for being restrained.

He decided there were worse things to blame on Lee Brackett and accepted this newest wrinkle about himself philosophically.

Jim nuzzled the back of his neck and Blair shivered, caught by an aftershock.

"Mmm, you feel good. You're still hard."

"One of the perks of being a sentinel, Chief," Jim murmured into Blair's skin, giving a little shimmy of his hips that made Blair want to melt and run like chocolate.

Jim had just had him and Jim still wanted him.

Blair smiled.

"Perks? Plural? As in, more than one?"

"Oh, yeah, lots."

"You're gonna kill me in bed."

"We'll go together," Jim promised, adding a shallow little swivel that rubbed his cock right over Blair's prostate. "I could fuck you for hours."

"Yes, Jim."

Sounded like a fine idea to Blair.

"Agent Brackett."

"Deputy Director Coldsmith-Briggs."

Michael `Archangel' Coldsmith-Briggs the Third steepled his fingers on the silver head of his cane and inspected his field agent narrowly.

"Your mission objective was accomplished through what some might term self-serving and unnecessarily inhumane methods."

Lee said nothing, his gaze calm and attentive on his boss. The man in the white suit was certainly easy to watch.

"Abduction and sexual assault are not the Firm's preferred operating tactics, Agent Brackett."

"With all due respect, Deputy Director, you weren't there. You don't know Blair Sandburg or James Ellison. The sentinel responded to encroachment of his territory just as I predicted in my initial mission proposal. The life-bond between sentinel and guide is fully set as a result. Mister Sandburg and Detective Ellison are together and expected to stay that way. I predict they'll be in D.C. within a week or two. Their help with the recruits will be invaluable. Win-win situation, Sir, one-hundred by one-hundred."

Brackett's eyes wouldn't have given him away to most men, but Michael knew what that unrequited emotion looked like. He'd seen it in the mirror often enough.

"I can't believe it. You're in love with Sandburg."

Michael knew his tone was too taken aback to be considered politic. He couldn't help himself. Lee Brackett had been the worst cynic he'd ever met, and that was saying a lot. Michael didn't think Brackett had had it in him.

"You did it that way for him?"

Lee shook his head.

"I would never say that. I'm just glad it worked. That is the bottom line, here, Sir. Sentinel and guide are reunited."

Michael sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"Agreed. Dismissed, agent."

Lee was at the door when he heard Archangel add "I'm sorry."

Lee didn't pause.

End
9 Dec 05

A/N: About the title: `Passing Zone Blues' was a truck-driving song that was released in 1961 by an artist named Coleman Wilson. Yes, I know Kansas repealed their anti-sodomy laws, but they were still on the books at the time this story is set. And yes, I also know that the time in which this story is set is a few years too early for Lee Brackett to be familiar with Sirius and Remus. Pretending, here.

End Passing Zone Blues - repost by Polly Bywater: pollyabywater@yahoo.com
Author and story notes above.

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