Author's webpage: http://www.geocities.com/Area51/Dimension/3837/index2.html

Author's disclaimer: Not mine, but doesn't matter.

Author's notes: Contains explicit descriptions of sexual abuse of a child.

Grindstone 4: Clean Edge - part one

Awareness returned slowly, like a dusty, dried-out feather gradually soaking and settling down through cold still water. Jim opened his eyes and realized that for the first time in his life he awoke with another man snuggled in close to his body. Instead of horror or revulsion, the heat from Blair's skin cushioned the cool air and spread a fine layer of pleasure across his chest. The deep steady breathing warned him to move carefully or stay still altogether. Neither man fell asleep easily the night before and Jim ached from the brutal memory of the full flashes shifting to acceptable brightness in his head. Closing his eyes again, he worked at toning down the emotional kick screaming wildly, yelling to claim his gut as one more trophy to newly revealed history. Even now, decades later, the force of the playback immobilized him, made him want more than anything to repair the repression, to reseal the truth back in the darkest part of his damaged heart.

But now he couldn't do that. Blair knew.

Gently, he tightened his hold on his sleeping partner and remembered how the young man cried and settled against him in a grief more complete than his own. In his mind the images gradually played at a mostly bearable distance. He removed himself enough to tell the story without choking to death. For Blair the whole thing slammed fresh and bloody, a crippling blow, but not enough to turn him away. Instead he acquired an even stronger grip, a closeness that secured him to Jim's very center, a human talisman to the dangerous world of his sentinel's past.

Leaning forward, he kissed the top of Blair's head and realized that he loved the smell of the man. A faint mix of musky salt and oil with only a touch of personal scent akin to spicy almond imprinted itself as his guide's unique blend. That layered with the silky individual strands of each twist of curl against his lips aroused him, tightened his groin, his thighs aching with a need to shift closer. Taking a deep breath, he dialed down his senses. He couldn't do this, not now.

Carefully, he repositioned his friend on his back under the covers and worked at getting out of bed without dipping the mattress. Checking the clock, he knew he had an hour to get ready for work. Slipping downstairs, he glanced in the bathroom mirror to see a man in need of a shave and shower. After removing the bandage at the back of his head, the thick thatch of blood and hair made a hard flat plate against his fingers. Turning on the shower, he stepped under the steaming water and let it sluice over him as he soaped up. The sting against his wounded scalp didn't faze him, the pain another needle prick among many as his body reported in. Finally permitting all the sensations of slickness and heat sliding over his skin brought on the tightness he enjoyed so much in the morning. The thickness between his legs swelled with the promise of his daily ritual, his balls stinging swarms of pleasure with each rolling touch.

Imagining his guide's stocky body leaned back into his own, he fisted his cock, a simulation of the real ass he wanted to enter. Behind closed lids, he saw the pink pucker opening against the blunt tip pushing forward. He heard the soft moans and the slippery sounds of thrusting as he made love to his own hand in the guise of his partner's image. Fire raced up through every nerve ending, his back tight with the power of his own pumping, each thrust one step closer to the heavenly paralysis of spasm, of the stretching waves that tore at his belly, down through the crotch, burning his thighs into stillness. His whole body jerked at the quickness of his arrival, his thirsty need for completion. The warm fluid flooded across his hand in spurts, the hot streams of the shower washing still another layer of secrets from his body.

His mouth open, gasping for more air, he braced his forehead against the coolness of the tile. He swallowed back the gagging guilt that raged through him. Fucking a fist was easy. Allowing himself to love Blair on a physical level would be more of a challenge, a threat to everything he'd ever believed about himself. Taking in a deep breath, he pushed back the confusion, and stepped out of the shower. Toweling off, he avoided the mirror, afraid to see the coward that possessed his body.

Rubbing himself drier, he suddenly heard a groan and a voice from upstairs. "Damn. Oh, god. Jim, where are you, man?"

He wrapped the towel around his waist, walking into the hallway to call up. "Down here, Chief. I'm just getting ready for work."

"Work? Oh, man, my back. Shit."

Taking the steps two at a time, Jim made it up to the bedroom quickly. "What's going on, Blair?"

"I must have slept wrong or something." He raised a hand up as Jim stepped closer. "No, man, it's okay. Just a spasm. God, it hurts though."

Sitting down on the edge of the bed, again careful not to jar the mattress, he placed a hand on his guide's shoulder. "What can I do, Chief?"

"There's nothing to do, Jim. Just have to wait until it passes." Taking the hand at his shoulder, Blair brought it to his lips and kissed it. "This helps though." Running fingers up Jim's bare arm, he met blue eyes watching him. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine, Chief."

"Are you really going to work this morning? I mean, don't you think you should take a day or two off just to process all that's happened?"

Jim shook his head and glanced away. "What's to process, Chief? I remembered something awful that happened years ago. I can't change anything. Might as well go back to work where I can make a difference."

"Jim, look at me, man."

Resistant at first, he finally made eye contact. "What?"

"Simon would give you time off. I think we should both just stay here together for a few days, maybe just rest and get our bearings. This is some pretty heavy shit you're working through."

"I know you like to talk about things, Chief. I understand that. For you that works. For me, I need to work. I need to get through this and I can't do that if I keep digging and poking at it. I just want to forget about it and move on. Okay?" Even to himself, his own voice sounded weak and pleading.

Shifting carefully, a quick grunt and hesitation slowed Blair's progress at sitting up. With Jim's arm as leverage he finally found a way to brace himself against the pillows, the pain still obviously a considerable on-going problem.

"Oh, man. Give me just a second here." Biting his lips, the tight lines of his face shadowed his features.

"Blair, maybe we should call the doctor or something?"

"No, that's okay. What's he going to do except what I've been doing? I just have to get used to it. Now, don't change the subject."

"I'm not. You're in more pain, Chief. It's been over a month, and you're still having these spasms. Maybe you should get a second opinion or something."

"Jim, listen. I don't want to talk about my back. What happened last night was major. I'm talking serious, heavy-duty shit, Jim. Now, you say you just want to forget it, but isn't that what you've done for almost thirty years? Don't think it's helped much. Remembering is what's going to let you heal, but not if you try to just ignore it. You're bound to have some pissed off feelings, some things you need to work through."

Standing, nervous energy winding up through him like electrified wire, he paced. "Well, yeah, I'm pissed, but so what? I'm upset because I got ambushed by it, sure, but again, so what? Talking and talking doesn't do anything, Chief. I have to act. I need to work so I can make a difference. Take this Baker case. The kid's dead because some sick fuck did to him what Sims did to me only Timmy didn't survive. Now, I need to get this guy so no other kid gets attacked by this asshole."

"But, Jim..."

"No, Chief, I've talked enough already. I'm going to work and then tonight or this weekend, we'll talk if you still need to."

Blair nodded, his face still strained. "Okay, you want to play that tune to Simon, go for it. He might let it slide, but don't count on it. He's likely to send you right back here."

"Not without a reason."

"How about the fact that you were literally beating your head bloody just yesterday, Jim. You're not ready to handle this case."

His jaw set, his anger still fresh and vital, Jim wrapped his arms around his chest. He needed to contain the firestorm of words that threatened to flame his partner. Instead, he used his practiced cop voice to keep from screaming. "I know you believe that, Chief, but I don't think you're in a position to judge whether or not I'm ready."

"Jim, we haven't even talked about us yet. This was the first night you let me sleep in your bed, but you never really touched me."

"What are you talking about? I held you all night."

"Jim, you held me, but you didn't touch me. Now, knowing what I know, I understand why, but we have to figure out how to change that."

"God, I can't believe you." The hostile edge to the words cut the air between them.

"What?"

"All you think about is sex. You want me to fuck you after what I said last night? Well, I can't do that."

His blue eyes shone too brightly as he spoke, each word weighted and heavy with the wound. "I don't want you to ever fuck me, Jim. I can get that anywhere."

"I don't want to hear about your sexual prowess, Sandburg."

Jim started down the stairs, but stopped short when he heard the soft voice behind him. "Jim, I love you. I told you that I would wait and I will, but I won't stay around so you can dump all over me, okay? If you want me to move out until you're really ready to deal with this, I will. Just don't ask me to sit here and take this shit because you're hurting. I'm hurting, too."

Turning back, staring at Blair to judge the seriousness of the threat, he saw the full stunning force behind the words. "You'd leave me?"

"I don't want to leave, no. I love you, but I'm selfish, too. You told me you wanted me all to yourself. Well, you've got me, but that means you've got the whole package. That includes sex, Jim."

"Jesus, Blair."

"No, listen. I know this is really hard for you, Jim. I do. But you've got to trust me. You've been running like crazy for ages. I can help you get over it if you let me, but I can't do a damn thing if you're going to keep pretending it's not a problem, if you're going to keep telling me I'm the one who's crazy because I need sex."

Coming back into the room, Jim sat back down on the edge of the bed, his bare shoulders slumped, his whole body pulled in on himself. God, he hated talking about this. An involuntary shudder shook him as Blair touched his arm. "Jim, please. Let me help you."

"I love you, Blair. I know I'm not being fair to you, I do, but I just need some more time. Give me a few more days to get this thing settled in my head. Then we can try some things."

"Some things?" Carefully, Blair stroked the arm gently, each rub more accepted, less threatening as Jim's breathing slowed.

"Yeah, maybe this weekend I might be able to let you guide me through a few test maneuvers, a few trial runs maybe."

"God, I'm in love with a soldier."

Smiling just a little, Jim stared into deep blue. "Ex-soldier, Chief, but a man's man, I guess."

Snorting to the point of grabbing his back, Blair held onto Jim's arm more tightly. "Oh ,man, Jim, warn me when you're going switch gears on me like that."

"Switch gears?"

"Yeah, you know, like find your sense of humor again?"

"I'll try, Chief. It's just I haven't felt much like joking lately. Sorry."

"It's okay, man." The younger man gradually eased himself forward. "Well, if you're determined to go to the station, let me get up. I'll go in with you. I'm telling you, Simon's going to need some convincing on this, plus, I don't want you working alone. Not after yesterday."

Supporting his friend as he carefully put his legs over the side of the bed, Jim shook his head. "Chief, I don't see you going very far if your back's acting up like this."

"Don't worry about it. I just need to take a muscle relaxant or something and a hot shower and it'll be fine. You get dressed while I get cleaned up, and then you can shave."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, and, Jim, don't think I don't know what you did downstairs in the bathroom."

Guilt blushed his cheeks. "What?"

"Jim, I've lived with you for almost three years in my own room. I'm not deaf, and my nose works just fine, so don't deny it. Before I always figured you touched yourself while thinking of Carolyn or some other fine lady. Now, I know differently."

Gulping hard, trying not to fall right through the middle of the floor with embarrassment, he stared down at his feet. "I guess I won't bother lying then."

"Jim, I just want you to know that in the future, I expect to at least get to watch, okay?"

"Watch?" Another deep swallow made his neck ache.

"Yeah, I figured I'd start with what you already like doing and work from there." He smiled a crooked, naughty little grin before he added, "Besides, I'm an anthropologist, Jim. We're voyeurs by definition. Observing can be quite the turn on."
Jim closed his eyes as Blair walked down the stairs to the bathroom, the determined, seductive expression on his face still an after image in his brain. The husky promise of the words formed an invisible hand around his cock and not for the first time that morning, Jim Ellison saw his partner's ass, slick and inviting, from behind his own closed lids.

"No, Sandburg. I don't like it." Captain Bank's sat back hard in his desk chair, his arms folded.

"I know, man. I didn't either at first. But I really think he can do this, Simon. I'll stay with him the whole time."

"What if he should have a breakdown again like he did yesterday?"

"He won't. I'll be there."

"Did I ever mention that I hate when you two talk about me like I'm not even here?" Sitting at the table, Jim watched his friends arguing, loathing what he heard. The word breakdown wasn't something he liked hearing about himself, not one bit. "Simon, I'm okay now."

The older man leaned forward on his desk, looking past Blair to stare at his best detective. "Jim, listen to me here. Just yesterday you came into the station bleeding from what I can only guess was a self-inflicted injury. You were disoriented and didn't have a clue really about what was going on. Sandburg got you out quick or no telling what might have happened."

"I know that, sir, but like Blair said, I'm okay now."

"Okay? Jim, I called you in from the field yesterday even before I knew about the other because you are NOT okay. You've been running on the edge for awhile now. This case has triggered some really bad memories, I understand that, but I have to think of your safety, even if you want to dismiss it."

"Simon, listen, man, we've talked about all this. I think he can handle it. He needs to finish this case, and then he's promised to take a few days off." Blair still stood his ground in front of the captain's desk, his hands moving madly to punctuate all his points.

"Days off? How many?"

"Captain, I thought if I could close the case, I could take the whole weekend and some of next week. I really want to learn to handle all these new feelings we've talked about. I know I've got some issues, but with Blair's help I've got this flashback thing under control for now."

Taking up his cigar, Simon studied both men carefully, first Blair and then Jim. After a few puffs, he nodded. "Okay, but I'm warning you, Jim, one more incident like yesterday, and I'm going to have to insist you take a leave and see the department shrink. I know you trust Blair to help, but he's a little too close to this."

Focusing on the younger man, he suddenly smiled. "Hell, wouldn't hurt him to go talk to the shrink, either."

Jim gave a teasing grin at the dig. "Yeah, but Captain, he may have to be committed and then I'd be stuck with just you."

"You could do worse."

Blair eased himself into the chair, the humor of the exchange only dragging out an overly tired expression. "Cut it out, guys."

Relieved smirk faded, Simon asked, "What's wrong? Your back again?"

"Yeah, well, the doctor said it could be months before it gets back to normal. I just have to be careful. Don't worry. I can still keep up with Jim here."

"I wasn't worried about that, Sandburg. You just look pretty miserable. You taking anything?"

Eyes quickly averted as his voice tensed. "Just stuff to make it ease up enough to function. I'm not going to take anything too strong again, Simon. I'm okay to work."

Jim focused in on the increased heart rate and pulse. Shit. "Blair, nobody's accusing you of anything, but I need you to tell me if hurts too much. I don't want you trying to cover it up with drugs again like you did last time."

"Would you two just please back off. I'm okay. If I suddenly take a nose dive into the carpet then you'll know I was lying, but that's not going to happen. Why the hell can't you just trust me?" The hurt shaped the words sharp and pointed, overly defensive.

"I do trust you, Chief. You know that."

"Do I?" Large blue eyes stared right back, the question wide and gaping.

"Yeah, I do. I just don't want you to get hurt."

"Then you know how I feel, Jim, whenever you push yourself too hard. I mean, I know you have to finish up this case, but it hurts to know how much it really costs you to be here."

"I'm fine, Chief."

Simon cleared his throat and put his cigar down. "Okay, guys, here's the deal. If either of you need to bail out of this case, now's the time to do it. Otherwise, let's discuss what we've got so far."

"We're ready Simon."

"Talk for yourself, Jim. Sandburg, are you sure you're okay with this?"

"I'm fine, Simon. This is important to Jim."

"Okay then. Let's start with me telling you that when Brown questioned Williams yesterday, he didn't get very far. We searched his house and came up with nothing. We checked the whole place, even the back yard and garage. Nothing. We're still at square one." He picked up the folder on his desk and handed it to Jim. "Here's the report. I figured you might want to run through it if you made it back in today."

Jim scanned through the sheets quickly as Blair looked over the photos of the expensive home. "Captain, I need to go to the house myself. See if I can pick up anything with my senses. Can we get a second warrant?"

Shaking his head, Simon took a sip of coffee before he answered. "Williams's lawyer showed up yesterday after we served the paper. Since we didn't find anything at all that would support him as our main suspect, there's no way another warrant would be issued unless we had something new."

Scratching his head, Blair pushed away a loose hair escaping from his leather tieback. "What about a second place, Jim? Maybe he didn't take Timmy to his house, because he knew he'd be a suspect."

"That's possible, Chief." Turning back to Simon, Jim asked, "Do we have a listing of other properties?"

"No, but we will have."

Proud, Jim smiled at Blair before he added, "And captain, run a check on properties owned by his family and by Darla Young as well. She might still know more than she's telling."

"You've got it, detective."

Blair took the folder from Jim and started reading through the interview. After a few moments, he whispered, "Jim, this guy is lying here."

"What? How do you know?"

"He says that he was at the computer store at around 2:30 on the day Timmy disappeared, but he has to be lying."

"Why?"

"Timmy went missing on Wednesday of last week. That was the day Computer Zone in the mall was doing inventory."

"On a Wednesday? How the hell do you know that?"

"Because I needed a new sound card for my university computer and I had to call out to their other store if I wanted it that day."

"Shit. Captain, how did we miss that? Damn, how did I miss that?"

Simon, chewing on his cigar furiously, dialed out to Brown's extension. "Calm down, Jim. We'll take care of it. He was interviewed again just yesterday and you were a little distracted."

While his captain talked on the phone, Jim turned back to Blair. "Nice catch, Chief. If he's lying about that, he's got something else to hide."

"Jim, there's another thing about this that's bothering me." The younger man sorted through the pictures and papers in the file, his face contorted with concentration.

"What?"

"According to the Medical Examiner Timmy had scars from being sexually abused for over a long period of time. If he's the abuser, why would Williams suddenly kill him? What happened to trigger the murder? Everything I've read about this kind of thing says that the abuser won't usually escalate to murder unless something drastic happens. Do you think someone else found out and maybe he panicked or something?"

Closing his eyes, desperately blocking out his own involuntary flood of images, Jim gritted his teeth. After a few moments, he just shook his head. "I don't know, Chief. Who knows why people like that do shit? Maybe if we can arrest him, he'll tell us the truth."

Several minutes later Brown knocked on the door, entered, and handed Simon the computer print out. "The guy's got a whole list of rental places, plus a cabin."

"Thanks, Brown. What about the store? Did you call?"

The young detective smiled over at Blair. "Yeah, man. Sandburg's right. Their outlet at the mall shut down for inventory that day, noon to six. We've got him."

Jim, already standing, looked over his captain's shoulder at the list. "Not yet, but soon. Look at this, sir. This property's only a few minutes from the mall and Baker's house is only about ten minutes from there. I think we need a warrant with a new address."

Smiling like Daryl just won a full scholarship to college, Simon agreed. "Damn, Jim, we might just nail this bastard after all."

Jim glanced over at his partner ready to thank him again for such quick thinking, only to find himself suddenly chilled. The flushed skin coupled with too bright eyes signaled unexplained distress. While Simon called the judge, he stepped over to Blair and glanced at the graphic crime scene picture in his hand. To avoid attracting attention he spoke quietly, almost a whisper in his friend's ear. "Chief, you okay?"

"No, man. This could've been you, Jim. God, I think I'm going to be sick."

Before he could stop him, Blair stood and rushed out, his gagging barely controlled.

"Jim, is he all right?"

"No, Simon, he's not. Blair's not a cop. He still sees the victim."

Understanding, the captain nodded and then suddenly started talking into the phone, making all the arrangements for the paperwork on the trail to justice.

The sour stench of vomit and the retching cough reached Jim's senses and he dialed them down. Slowly he headed over to the restroom to take care of his partner, his own bones weary from the weight of the case. He hated how Blair reacted to everything so deeply, so heart-wrenchingly to the bone. At the same time jealousy twisted his own compassion. His personal numbness protected him, but it also insulated and smothered. He both envied and feared his guide's strength, his empathy and depth of self-awareness. The only person who mattered in his life heaved up enough grief for both of them. Without Blair life would be just too fucking empty. At that thought, Jim stepped faster.

"I don't like the idea of you questioning him alone, Jim. I can't let you do that." Simon's eyes flashed with concern as they moved back and forth from Jim's stubborn countenance to Blair's tense features.

"He's right, Jim. Simon needs to be in the room. Williams has his lawyer with him. We can't afford to blow the case because you lose it in there."

Jim shook his head, the anger swelling and spreading all way down to the end of each clenched fist. "You have a hell of a lot of faith in me."

Taking a deep, calming breath, Simon continued to speak in even tones. "We've got enough evidence to lock this guy up right now, Jim. A confession would seal it. You go in there all revved up, lose it, and the lawyer has something to fight with. Now, you can do the questioning, but I'm going to be right there beside you. I see any sign of a problem, and I take over. Is that understood?"

Jaw, tight and twitching, he agreed. "Okay, but I don't like it."

"Jim, don't be that way, man. Simon's only trying to protect you."

"From what, Chief? Myself? Is that what you two think of me? That Jim Ellison's on the edge and any minute he's going to fuck up again, cut his own throat? Is that what you think, Sandburg?"

A quick exchange of worried glances, brought Blair closer, a hand to the small of the larger man's back. "Jim, listen to yourself, man. You're talking in third person. Now, it's not that we don't trust you, but you've got to trust us, too. We're almost finished with this thing, but you are wound up pretty tight. Let Simon go in there and let him take over if you start to lose it. Can you do that, man? Can you just trust us?"

Lowering his head and squeezing his eyes shut for a moment, Jim struggled to reclaim the calm hiding from him. Slowly, the terrible rage warring through his muscles eased enough that he could answer. "I trust you both, but I can do this. Simon can be in there, but let me finish this. Please."

"Okay then, Detective. Let's go. I'm right behind you."

One quick hand squeeze from Blair allowed Jim to swallow again and head off into interrogation. Once through the door and in the room with Williams, the cold instinct of covert ops and special forces clicked in. This man would suffer the consequences of his actions before Jim could rest. That chant became a war cry in his already pounding head.

Slowly he sat down across from the two men at the table, his eyes intense. He recognized the fear in the dark brown eyes of Williams and drank it in. "Okay, Williams, we've collected enough from your house on Taylor to book you a cell on death row. Your best bet now would be do yourself a favor and confess, make a deal, and save your life, as sorry as that is."

"Detective Ellison, I won't have you address my client with such a tone."

Steely blue eyes narrowed, his head turning slowly to stare directly at the lawyer. "What tone would that be, Mr. Denton? I'm just pointing out to your client as well as to you that if you want to keep from having a little lethal cocktail, you'd do well to cooperate. Tone doesn't change the facts. Your client raped and murdered a helpless little boy, a boy who trusted him."

"You can't prove that."

"We CAN prove that. We've got blood stains and prints and more evidence than we would ever need to tie him to the scene. Right now forensics is working over time just on this case. It's all going to be wrapped up nice and tidy, almost like he wanted to be caught. The newspapers are going to have a field day."

Shifting uneasily in his seat, Denton glanced over at the silent Williams. Eyes worried, he turned back to Jim. "IF what you say is true, Detective, we'd want assurances."

Sitting back, his hand to his mouth, his stomach already churning, Jim spoke slowly. "Such as?"

"That the death penalty wouldn't be considered."

"He'd have to confess and the DA would have to sign off."

"And if those things were to happen?"

"Well, chances are you could save his sorry ass."

"I want to wait until I see your list of evidence first. Then I want to talk to my client."

Jim leaned forward, his jaws and neck muscles aching from the strain of control. "We don't have everything listed yet, but we do have enough to tell you that we have blood and semen stains from your client along with Timmy Baker's blood and some of his clothes at what appears to be the scene of the actual murder. We have plenty of hair and skin samples from the tub where he stripped and scrubbed the body. That along with his access and the fact that he lied about his alibi will convict him in this state of the kidnapping, rape, and murder."

Licking his lips, gauging his words carefully as he fought to push down the maelstrom of emotion, he spoke with deadly clarity. "There is absolutely no doubt about conviction, Mr. Denton. The only question is whether he spends the rest of his life in prison or he dies. Guess which I prefer."

A wounded whimper and shudder literally shook the table as Williams spoke for the first time. "I didn't mean to do it."

"Shut up, Kenneth." Denton put a hand on the panicked man's shoulder.

"No, I mean, it. I didn't mean for it to happen. It just got out of hand. Baker was going to take Timmy away. I couldn't let Timmy go."

Swallowing back the urge to vomit, Jim stood slowly and moved back from the table. Hands rubbing desperately at each temple, the terrible throbbing crippled his hearing. Simon stepped next to him, a hand at his arm. "Jim, are you okay?"

"I will be." He pulled away and then wrapped his own arms around his chest before he spoke again, his senses more controlled. "So, why did you kill him? Why not let the boy leave with his father?"

"You don't understand."

"Explain it."

The emaciated man's whole body shook and Williams stared down at his hands grasping onto the table. "I just wanted to keep him there for myself, but he started screaming. When I tried to stop him, he broke away. Timmy was growing up, getting stronger."

"So, you stopped him from running. How?"

"I grabbed him and threw him down on the basement floor."

"And then you raped him."

"Yes." The whining voice barely formed the word.

"Then what?"

"He started crying and I just couldn't stand it. I tried to cover his mouth, but I jerked his head back too far. I heard the snap. At first I didn't know what it was, but he just stopped moving, no breathing, no crying, nothing."

"So, why'd you wash and move the body? The house was empty. It might not have been discovered and you could've gotten away. Why take the body and leave it in the park?"

Dark eyes like bruises locked onto Jim's for the first time since Williams started confessing. "I didn't want to leave any evidence, and Timmy loved the park. I wanted him to sleep in a place he loved."

The movement across the table happened so quickly that no one reacted fast enough to stop it. Jim grabbed up Williams and threw him up against the wall, his arm pressed hard across the windpipe. "You son of a bitch."

He didn't hear the door open or feel his captain's hand. From behind him a soft voice called his name. "Jim, man, let him go. He's not David."

"I can't, Chief."

"Let him go. Please, Jim, just let go." Blair's hand touched his arm as his eyes made contact. "Jim?"

Stepping back with one fluid motion, he released Williams. The lawyer kept his client from falling, while Denton's shocked eyes never left Jim. "Detective, I could have your badge for this."

"Yes, you could. Might even be doing me a favor."

Simon stepped forward, standing between the two men. "Sandburg, take Detective Ellison out of here. Take him home. I'll discuss this with him later."

"Come on, Jim. Let's go."

"You don't have to cover for me, Simon. I'm not sorry."

"Go home, Detective."

"Yes, sir." Following the clipped orders out of habit more than desire, he let his guide take his arm and lead him out of the room. From behind him he heard his captain switch into his smoothest political voice, spinning a tale of job stress, of Jim's outstanding record, of basically a load of whatever it would take to protect him. In one part of his mind he appreciated the effort, but for the most part he couldn't care less.

Blair rubbed his arm as he spoke quietly. "Jim, just stay with me, man. We're going home."

Avoiding eye contact with everyone around him, he allowed Blair to walk him like a blind man through the maze of the station. "Home?" He sounded dazed even to himself.

"Yeah, man. Home."

Standing together with his partner in the elevator, the doors closing, he shut his eyes. A wave of dizzy relief swelled over him and he fought to control the urge to breathe in the universe. He wanted to drift away and take Blair with him, to travel to some safe place where no Sims or Williams could ever reach. Clutching at the smaller man's hand, he prayed out loud. "Don't leave me, Chief. I couldn't stand this if you left me."

"I'm not leaving. Never going to happen, Jim. Not even an option. Just keep breathing."

He peeked open an eye and took in the concerned stare of his friend. "Keep breathing?"

"Yeah. Whenever I get shot or hurt, that's what you always tell me, man. Just keep breathing. Well, you've taken a pretty heavy shot the last few days, so I'm returning the favor and reminding you to keep sucking in that air, Jim."

"You've got it, Chief."

"About time you started listening."

"Blair, I always listen."

Tugging at his shoulder as the elevator doors to the garage opened, Blair directed him to the truck. "Give me the keys."

"I can drive."

"Jim, don't argue. Just give me the keys."

Digging in his pockets, he handed them over. After unlocking the door, Blair got him settled in the passenger's seat and then walked to the other side. As soon as he got in and fastened their seat belts, he started the engine and pulled out of the building. It took several minutes on the road before Jim finally started talking. "I'm sorry, Chief. I kind of lost it."

"It's okay, man. Simon will take care of it."

"He shouldn't have to. I blew it. I told you both to trust me and then I couldn't handle it. I'm sorry." The index finger of his right hand played with the moisture on the inside of the glass. "I don't know what happened."

"Jim, you caught the bastard. He's going to jail. That's because of you."

"And you."

"We're a team, man. Always. Don't ever forget that."

"No way I could, Chief." His voice choked up, but he forced himself to finish. "I love you, Blair, but I don't know how I can ask you to put up with this. Let's face it. I'm a mess here."

"Jim, just hush for now, okay? You're tired. I'm tired. Let's just go home and rest. We'll work all this stuff out. I'm not putting up with anything. You know me better than that. I love you and I'm your guide for life. You got that?"

"Yeah, but..."

"No, buts. Now, we're almost home. It's going to be okay. We're going to work this out. I promise."

Leaning his head against the window, Jim Ellison realized just how hard it was to believe in staying alive much less staying together. Even on his guide's lips, the promises glistened like fool's gold during a dream, a dream where enemies surrendered and pain never sliced open the disillusioned and battered heart. Dreaming came easy, but believing, well, believing hid pretty damn well even from a sentinel searching like crazy.

"Jim, what are you doing down here, man? You're supposed to be resting."

"I am resting, Chief. I'm watching the Jags game. We're ahead by 10 points."

Taking another drink, he focused on the flickering images on the screen while Blair settled in beside him. "Jim, it's late, man. This is a delayed broadcast. You already know who wins."

"So? I still want to watch the play. Go on back to bed. I'll be up when it's over."

"Yeah? Before or after you finish the six pack?" Jim put the bottle down and turned sideways to meet his partner's concerned eyes.

"I've only had one, Chief. I just wanted to relax. You don't have to worry about it."

Placing a hand on Jim's upper arm, Blair shook his head. "I can't help it, man. It's been so tough between us the last few weeks, I don't know what to think. You said you weren't going to drink anymore."

"It's just one fucking beer, Blair."

"Don't get pissed, man."

"I can't help it. If I want a beer or two while I watch a game, I should be able to have one without causing some kind of fucking emotional crisis. I know you think I've got a problem, but I'm not an alcoholic. I'm fine."

Blair scooted away and sat wedged into the corner of the sofa while he talked, his voice soft but firm. "Jim, I never said you were an alcoholic, but you do have a problem. Sitting here getting all pissed off at me about it is not going to solve anything. It's not going to help you or us to go out of your way to start an argument."

"Oh, christ." Jim stood up and stormed into the kitchen, his barely contained energy nearly sparking the air. He emptied the bottle in the sink, rinsed it, and then tossed it with a loud thud into the garbage. He took several long moments to breathe deeply and calm himself. Reaching into the refrigerator, he got a bottle of water. "Want some?"

Shaking his head, his expression still serious, Blair stayed put on the couch. He reached over and used the remote to turn off the set. "What's going through your head, Jim?"

"Strangely, nothing much." He settled back on the couch next to his partner and finished half the water before putting it on the table. "I was just basically trying to keep it that way."

"Dealing by not dealing, huh?"

"Yeah, maybe." Jim glanced over and finally gave a weak grin. "Guess that's not going to play with you around, Chief. It's really kind of ironic when I think about it."

"What?"

"You keeping me honest. I've seen you obfuscate like a real master, but when it comes to me, I can't get by with a damn thing. You catch me and call me on it every time."

Groaning slightly as he repositioned himself to face the older man, Blair shook his head. "I don't lie like that anymore, Jim. Not with you anyway."

"Really?"

"Yeah, man, really."

"Well, today you lied to Simon about the medicine you took for your back, and since I was there at the time, I figure you lied to me, too."

The body heat beside him increased quickly as did all the vitals. "Shit, Jim. I didn't lie. Why would you say that? What makes you think I was lying?"

"Because your back's still hurting and I know the doctor didn't give you anymore pain meds, just the muscles relaxants and some Motrin. So, Chief, where'd you get the stuff for your back? One of the guys in your classes aiming for an A? You buying illegal drugs now?"

"Jim, I don't know what the hell you're trying to do here, but I didn't buy anything illegal. You know me better than that. I didn't lie either. I went to the campus doctor and he gave me some hydrocodone to take."

"Artificial or real, it's a narcotic.

"It's prescription and it's not that strong, Jim. Just something to take the edge off."

"So you did lie?"

"I said I didn't take anything too strong or that I couldn't handle and I didn't. That's not lying."

Licking his lips and covering them with his hand, the detective worked to control what he really wanted to say. Words warred in his head, but he fought to make them all work together to form some kind of reasonable thought, something that wouldn't cause an explosion. "Blair, Dr. Masters told you he didn't want you using that stuff after last time."

"Dr. Masters isn't the one who can't drag his ass out of bed in the morning because he still feels like shit, Jim. Look, you needed me today. I didn't think I could make it without the stuff, so I took a few extra pills, that's all. Again, it's not that strong. It's no big deal."

"No big deal?"

"Jim, I swear to you I wasn't really trying to lie about it."

"It's addictive, Chief. You've been taking it for over a month now. You admitted you're taking more than you're supposed to."

"I just wanted to make sure you were all right."

"I understand that, Chief."

"Then why are you so upset?" The strain in his voice stretched out the words as they made their target.

"Why were you upset when you saw me drinking?"

"It's not the same thing, man." Blair pulled back, his arms crossed, his eyes suddenly more determined and stubborn.

"Answer the question, Chief. Why were you upset?"

Slowly, the younger man unfolded his arms and looked down while he spoke. "Because you act mean when you drink, man. All hostile. I never know what to expect. It scares me."

"Then ditto that for me about you using narcotics, Blair. It scares me. I know you've been hurting, but I also know some of that's because of me. I've been putting you under an incredible amount of stress because of all the stuff that's been going on."

"None of that is your fault, man."

"Maybe, but instead of taking care of yourself, doing the things the doctor said to do like physical therapy and massage, you've been trying to take care of me. I'm sorry about that."

"I love you, Jim. I want to take care of you."

"And I love you, too, but I want you to listen to me about this." Sliding in closer, Jim cupped Blair's chin and lifted his head enough to face him. "This is important, Chief. You're important. I don't want to see you hurting, but drugs aren't the answer."

"I know that, man. Don't you think I know that?" Blair tried to look away, but couldn't.

"Chief, on the way home this afternoon you made me a promise that we'd work this thing out. Remember that?"

"Yeah."

"Then promise me something else. No more sneaking around with the drugs. If you trust Dr. Masters, then do what he tells you and don't play anymore games."

Swallowing hard, Blair nodded. "I'll promise, Jim, if you'll promise me you won't drink anymore."

"I promise not to get drunk anymore, Chief."

The smallest grin curled the edge of his lips. "No games, right, Jim? I said no drinking, not no getting drunk. Promise me."

Grudgingly, taking a deep breath, Jim spoke quietly. "See, you catch me every time, Chief. That's going to be really hard, but okay, no drinking, not even at the games."

Lifting his hand to the side of Jim's face, Blair caressed his cheek. "I love you, man. How about we seal this with a kiss or something?"

"Or something?"

"We can start with the kiss and work our way upstairs."

Drinking in the deep blue eyes, the pupils already dilating with arousal, Jim smiled. "You're such a dog, Chief."

"But I'm your dog, Jim. Nobody else's. Ever."

Leaning in, Jim pressed his mouth against the full lips slightly parted. The steamy slickness of his tongue captured the wrestling partner, each sliding and twirling around the other, the rich flood of flavor of Blair's herbal tea spreading down his throat. He sucked on the tip as it pulled back and then pushed forward, fully aware of the hard contrast of teeth with the satiny slide against gums. The heat of the contact swelled his breathing, his chest swollen with desire to do more than kissing.

Slowly he eased back and tried not to gasp for air suddenly too thin to fill his lungs. "God, Chief, you taste so good."

"You, too, man." Shyly, Blair squeezed his partner's hand. "Jim, I want you to come upstairs."

"I want to. I do. We could just do that kissing some more and then just sleep."

"Kissing sounds good."

"Feels good, too."

"Yeah, man, it does. Besides, you won't be going into work for the next few days. We could just take our time. Kissing is always a nice start."

"I hear that, Chief."

"Before I'm finished, you're going to feel it, too, Jim."

"What about your back?"

"What back?"

Waking up curled next to Blair Sandburg could easily become a habit. He loved the heat and the rich concentration of smells that permeated his slowly returning awareness. Layers of musk and oil, salt and the tiniest hint of ginger joined together to soothe him. Opening his eyes slowly, Jim realized that the soft sound of steady rain pecked and splattered against the windows, a pleasant background to the grey light filtering through the gauzy mist of showers into the room.

He buried his nose into the thick dark hair right beneath his face, drowning in the luscious coiled texture and capturing aroma of curls. Flashes of his partner leaning over him, kissing him, licking his chin, his cheeks, each eyelid, swirling a tongue at the edge of each ear thrilled him. The sensory memory of Blair sucking on his neck brought on an involuntary shudder that surprised him with its sudden strength. His morning hard-on twitched, nudging him, urging him forward, even closer to the sleeping body wrapped in his protective embrace. The tightness of his erection hurt and needed to be touched, begged to be rubbed, and he couldn't do that with Blair right there.

As he started to move back, to slide off the bed to go to the shower, Blair's hand grabbed his arm and held him. "Don't, Jim."

"You're awake?"

"Yeah, barely." Shifting his hips slightly forward, his groin touched Jim. The electric shock of contact rocked the larger man away.

"I'm sorry, Chief. I can't."

A gentle hand stroked his face, the quiet voice reassuring and calm, with no hint of hurt or rejection. "I know that, Jim, but don't get up yet."

"I need to go use the restroom, Chief. I'll be right back."

"No. Stay here awhile longer." Blair's palm slid down and rested on Jim's chest. Lifting his head, dark blue, still sleepy eyes met Jim's. "You're so hard already. Don't want to lose that."

"Come on, Blair. I need to go."

"I know, but you also want to jerk off. I want to watch you do it. I want to see you touch yourself while you think about being in me."

A rush of fire spread through Jim's crotch, his cock jumping in madness just from the vibrations of Blair's words, the images like teasing bites nipping at him, a strong steamy tongue slipping between his asscheeks.

"Jesus, Chief. I don't know if I can do that. I really need to go to the restroom here."

"Listen to me, man. It's going to make it so much better. Now, lie on your side and look at me while you do it. I want you to see my face while your hand wraps around your cock. Watch me while you get yourself off. Now, take off those boxers. I want to see you."

The rich tones poured over him, entranced him. He'd slice his own balls off if Blair told him to. Hooking a finger in the elastic, he had the shorts down and away quickly. He turned on his side and focused on the half-lidded eyes staring at him, the black pupils blocking out the color almost completely. Watching his guide lick his lips, the tongue dark red and deliciously slick, he grew even harder, the tightness of his ass a spastic pain.

"Blair, I've never done this in front of anyone, not even Carolyn."

"I like watching, Jim. I like touching, too, but you're not ready for that yet, so I'll wait. Show me how you do yourself. I want to see the technique that you use to get yourself going, to bring yourself off when you're up here alone thinking about pumping inside me, or in the shower forcing yourself between my tight cheeks, man. Do it for me, Jim. Please."

Just the words sent hot shivers though his thighs, down his legs into his calves. His shoulders pulled up as he shifted and turned to face the man who could turn him on with his magical voice, a voice that could both enchant and arouse. He could lose himself in Blair's voice, lose himself and beg to die for the pleasure of drowning in the mesmerizing safety of it. Trust edged every syllable, every letter dripped in one more reason to love his guide. Lips parted to breathe deeper, he fisted his cock with belief that he never wanted anything so much as being with this man watching him, to pleasure him by pleasing himself.

"God, you're beautiful, man. That's the way. Thrust for me, into me. Come on, pump. Keep your eyes open, man. Look at me, only me. I love you, Jim."

Pounding into the gripping flesh of his hand transformed into making love to his guide, but his own voice failed him. He couldn't speak and live at the same time. All around him the world narrowed to the swelling circles in his own belly, melting into sizzling currents, sparking into his groans vibrating down to his groin. His ass clenched and unclenched to the rhythm of his pumping, first slow, but rapidly changing to faster and harder, falling over the cliff into explosion, the spasms racking his body to uncontrolled shaking. He couldn't stop the screams that tore his throat open with each scorching spurt shooting from the universe between his legs, his muscles paralyzed and held prisoner by fire flashes along every nerve. Nothing held him but a single palm at the center of his chest, nothing but the calming hand of his guide wiping the salty tears streaming from overwhelmed and failing eyes. Light ran away with the air and all colors flashed and faded before gradually returning.

"It's okay, man. Slow and easy. Good. Come back to me, Jim." Lips kissed his nipple and another shiver ran through him.

"My god, Chief. It's too much."

"No it's not, man. You did great, fast, but great. You're still a little hard, too. You could come again if you wanted. Would you like me to do this one for you?" Blair's tongue dipped back to the line between Jim's nipples, each stroke a blade slicing through super sensitive flesh.

"I can't, Chief. Please. Not yet. It hurts."

"Hurts?"

"Too much. I can't control it."

Smiling, the younger man put a hand to both sides of Jim's head and stared directly into his eyes, hypnotic and overpowering. "You don't have to control it, Jim. I'm your guide. I promise you won't get lost. It's not pain to give it up like that. Are you saying you didn't like it?"

"God, no, I can't believe it felt so good, but it hurt, too."

"Yeah, I know. The best kind of pain, the little death, only in your case, little is relative, man." Lips pressed to his, swallowing up his air again as Blair's tongue plunged all the way to the back of his throat. Pulling away, he rolled over and then snuggled into a the curves of Jim's side. "Okay, I'll let you off the hook this morning, Jim, but I'm telling you, before long I'm going to have you coming two or three times in a row. It's going to blow your sentinel senses off the scale, man."

"That's not all it's going to blow, Chief. My brain is mush now."

"Like it should be after any mind-blowing orgasm."

"You mean it's always like this?"

"No." After the slight dip of disappointment, he watched as Blair turned toward him, grinning wickedly as his hand rubbed up and down his chest. "It gets even better and better. We're just getting started, man."

"I'm glad I've got good life insurance, Chief. I don't know if my heart can take this if it gets any better."

Chuckling, his voice husky, Blair stroked his forehead back and forth against Jim's side. "Your heart belongs to me, man. I guarantee it can take it and more. Trust me, Jim."

Hugging him still closer, Jim kissed the top of his lover's head. "I do. I also love you. I couldn't say that before when you said it to me."

"I know. I've noticed you stop talking when you get into it. Well, unless you count screaming."

Suddenly embarrassed again, Jim's whole body doused him in a huge red heat. "Sorry about that. Like I said, it's the control thing."

"It's okay with me, man. I loved it. I just think we may have to invest in some pretty heavy soundproofing. I'm surprised the neighbors haven't called already."

A knock downstairs accented his comment and he laughed. "Hey, that's probably Ms. Donnelly right now. Probably thinks I've killed you."

Seriousness returning, Jim sat up and reached for his boxers. "No, it's Simon. I smell the cigars. Get dressed. He's going to want to talk."

Blair sat up and shook his head. "Man, I need a shower, bad. Your aim was a little off, you know."

Startled at his own lack of observation, Jim saw the evidence of his earlier activity glistening on his partner's chest and even in his hair. The blush came back full force. "Shit, Sandburg. I am so sorry."

"It's okay. I'll just be sure to open wider next time."

"Oh, god." He shut his eyes, his partner's sexy teasing way too frank for him to handle just yet. In his typical Ellison way, he simply tried to ignore it. "I'm going to go let Simon in."

Scooting off the edge of the bed, Blair stopped short and grabbed his back. "Damn, you know I never realized how much I took not being in pain for granted before this happened."

"Is it bad?"

"No, I'll be okay." The knock battered the door again. "Go let Simon in, man."

"You sure?"

"Man, don't start hovering. Go. I'll be down in a minute. It may take me that long to stand up."

Stepping closer, Jim blocked out the fear that banged around and shouted to be noticed. He handed Blair his robe. "Here. Wear this, Chief. I don't think Simon's ready for a full picture yet."

"Jim, he's probably more ready than you are. Now go let him in before I get pissed, okay?"

"Sure."

Down the stairs in a matter of seconds, Jim opened the door to find his captain standing there, arms crossed and waiting. "Morning, sir."

"Better for you than me, I see. You always answer the door in your underwear, detective?"

"Only for you, sir. Come on in and have a seat. I've GOT to go to the bathroom. I'll be out in a minute."

As Jim hurried down the hall, he heard Simon take off his coat. "And put some clothes on, Jim. Talking to you is hard enough without a constant reminder that I should be working out more."

Jim relieved his over stressed bladder and washed up before grabbing up his old jeans. He'd shower and change later. While zipping up, the tenderness from his earlier activity brought a smile and a pleasant twitching from the stimulation of the binding cloth. Imagining Blair's hand cupping and stroking him there, wishing his partner's flesh to touch his own swelled him more. Standing a little straighter, he grabbed a loose-fitting sweater to pull on, one that came down past his crotch. Heightened senses were bad enough, hyper horny another. No reason to advertise to Simon that he'd completely lost control of himself.

Returning to the living room, he found Blair fixing coffee, the traces of Jim combed away, the hair pulled back in the now familiar ponytail. "Hey, Chief."

"Jim, Simon needs to talk to you, man. Promise to listen, okay?"

The serious tone immediately put him on guard. "What's going on?"

"Just listen to him. I'm going to go take a shower. Coffee will be ready in a minute." The slight touch to his upper arm as Blair passed sent tingles all through him. He wanted to grab the man and hold him tight, to force him to stay forever in his arms. His own staggering insecurity and need frightened him.

"Sure, Chief. Thanks."

"No problem, man."

As soon as Blair shut the door, Simon started talking. "Jim, about what happened yesterday..."

"I'm sorry about that, Simon. I have to admit that you were right about not going in there. I should've listened."

"Let me finish, Jim. You're right, you should've listened, but the blame falls back to me. I'm the captain. I should've sent you home. But I didn't. I'm responsible for my men, including you."

"You trusted me and I failed. I'm sorry." Jim sat down at the table, his head sagging slightly forward. He didn't want to think about his friend shouldering the consequences for something he'd done in anger.

"I'm not going to say it's okay, Jim, because it's not, but it is just as much my fault as yours. You've been under an incredible strain the last month. I knew that. This case wouldn't have been easy for anyone under the best of circumstances."

"You shouldn't have to worry about which cases to give me, Captain. It's my job. If I can't handle it, I should quit."

Simon went over to the coffee pot, leaning his back against the counter, impatiently waiting for the container to fill up. "Quitting's not an option I want to discuss, Jim. You need some downtime. There's no doubt about that."

"Suspension?" The word sounded dry on his lips, a dead and brittle falling word.

"I was thinking leave of absence." Simon poured coffee into mugs and brought them back to the table. He reached in the refrigerator for the milk.

"Is that what Denton demanded after I left?"

"No. Denton's got nothing to do with this. I convinced him that with a client like Williams and with your record, it wouldn't win him any friends to go after you. I think I mentioned the word job stress and that this case would stress a saint. He did agree you weren't a saint."

"Thanks for your help, sir, but I should've controlled myself better than that."

"You're welcome, and you're right, you should have. Even so, I understand it. You're human. I wanted to strangle the son of a bitch myself and I've never had any of the issues you've had to deal with."

Jim took a long drink of the hot liquid, the usual bitterness sharp on his tongue. For some reason it didn't bother him, but instead helped focus the thorniness of his own feelings. "Issues, yeah, well there are a few of those."

"I was thinking that you should take at least a week, maybe two. It's not like you don't have the sick days. Hell, you've got as many sick days as some of the guys have work time."

"That's true. What about my cases? What about testifying against Williams?"

"Won't need to testify. The DA's already signed off on the deal. Williams is going to go down for life with no chance of parole. The only thing Denton demanded was that he have access to treatment through Conover. The DA agreed to that, too."

The reality of the completion sank in. Instead of satisfaction, numbness settled around his heart. He had no real reaction to the man's fate, no sense of reality, no claim to justice. It didn't touch him.

"And my other cases?"

"I can spread them around until you come back. Everyone knows something's been going on. They just don't know what. They don't need the details, but I think some of them will be glad you're finally going to be taking some time for yourself. Sandburg and I are not the only ones who've been worried about you, Jim."

Bands around his chest tightened, his breathing restricted. His voice limped into the air between them. "I'm sorry, sir."

"Then you'll take some time off?"

"Yeah, I guess I need to." From behind him he heard the bathroom door open, Blair's bare feet padding against the wood floor as he stepped into his old room dressed only in a towel. He turned around in his chair and watched, smiling as his guide shyly grinned and then shut the door to get dressed in private.

"Jim, maybe you and Blair could go on some kind of vacation together. Taggert still has that cabin up in the woods."

Shifting back around in his chair, the erection returned and begged for attention. Glad to be sitting down, the table for cover, Jim nodded. "Yeah, that's an idea. Or we could just stay here. Simon, you have no idea what Blair can do when it comes to recreation."

Sentinel senses picked up on the increased heat beneath the dark complexion. Instead of expected humor, pain laced the words. "Jim, I'm your captain and your friend. Don't do me like that okay? It's bad enough you've found someone who loves you like I've rarely seen, but don't taunt me with it. Don't get me wrong, I'm happy for you, but I can't help but be a little jealous, too"

Shocked, Jim leaned forward, his arms bracing him against the table. "I'm sorry, Simon. I never thought about it like that."

"Just don't fuck it up, Jim. Don't push him away and don't take him for granted. We've both been married before, but it's easy to forget how fragile all this love stuff is. He's a keeper."

"Yeah, he is."

"He's what, Jim? What are you two talking about out here?"

"Guppies, Chief."

"Guppies?"

"Yep."

Looking puzzled, missing the reference, Blair turned to the captain who's huge smile promised enlightenment. "What the hell's he talking about, Simon?"

Holding up both hands, the older man stood up. "Hey, I'm not in this. You figure it out. Now, I have to get out of here. I'll do the paperwork, Jim. Let me know later if you decide on one week or two." Grabbing his coat, he nodded his head at the still confused grad student. "And you, little guppy, take care of the man."

Blushing for the first time all morning, Blair laughed and turned to Jim. "Little guppy?"

"MY little guppy, Chief." As soon as Simon shut the door behind him, Jim reached out to take his partner's wrist and pull him into his lap. "I caught you, and I'm not tossing you back, not now, not ever."

"Oh, man, tell me that's not going to be my pet name."

"You like gupcake better?"

"Oh, man, Jim, just stop it." Jim kissed the side of his lover's neck and then suckled and licked his throat, the whiskers burning his lips and hungry tongue.

"Can't. Love you, Chief." The flesh muffled the words as he busily continued his oral assault.

His breathing labored, his voice growing husky, the younger man continued his protest. "Then Chief or Blair or lover will do, but I draw the line at Gupcake unless maybe you want me to start calling you cutie names, too." Blair reached up and petted the top of Jim's head, playfully spiking the hair up in little tuffs. "How about Rambo, or Big Guy, or oh yeah, I know, the Buff Man, Mr. Hunk, the Eater of the Sacred Guide, or..."

"I get the picture, Chief."

"Or Steel Rod of the Universe, or...."

"Stop." Laughing, his whole body shaking from the lunacy of the man in his arms, he buried his face in his chest. "Lover. I like that. How about Babe? Could I get away with that or honey?"

Wrapping his arms around Jim's head, holding him more tightly, he whispered, "Babe, yes, honey, no. Any others we need to negotiate before we get into the really hot throes of passion, Mighty Lord of the Jungle?"

"Oh, man, why did I start this?"

"You've got me, man."

"You better believe it, Chief."

Continued in part two.