Author's disclaimer: No money will change hands, no foul on the Pet Fly guys who created two such intriguing characters.

Apologies to H2O Plus: I know your product was never intended for this use but gee, are you going to get upset over some free advertizing?

Author's notes: This story flows from the story line began by Lori and Wolfling's Truth or Consequences, sent to this list last October. Read that to get the background.

A huge thank you to my three betas: Marilyn who inspired me, Babs who challenged me and Vicky who listened. They did a great job; any remaining problems are all mine.

Another story, the one I originally wrote for the Virtual Season, will follow shortly. I needed this short episode to set the scene.

"It's a lovely idea that everything you do you don't take for granted. That's the power of ritual. Everything you do makes you aware." - Blu Greenberg

He sat still, cross-legged, eyes closed. Breath came and went, came and went. Heart pumped, blood flowed. The rhythms of his body were the mantra that led the way deeper.

In silence he sat, a postulate. A searcher. An explorer seeking answers.

Silent and unmoving and lost to this world until the warmth of the early sun touched his face. Its caress was like that of a mother and he rose up to awareness in response. Slowly, a diver rising from the depths of the sea. Up, to the reality of his life.

Behind him, from above, he heard the slap of bare feet on the wood of the loft floor and then coming down the steps. The sound drew him further and faster. His eyes opened but squinted against the sunlight flooding the room.

The feet padded over to where he sat. A quiet voice murmured, "Chief? You back with me?"

"Mmm."

"Everything ok? You've been there a long time."

He stretched his arms up and his legs straight out and back in, and turned to look up at Jim. From down here on the floor, his partner seemed to go up forever. With an effort, he ignored the finely sculpted body that stood over him displayed in boxers and t-shirt. "I got up early, must have been around 4. You heard me?" At Jim's nod, "Sorry, man, didn't mean to disturb you. Thought I was quiet."

"You were." A sort of shrug. "Noticed a change in your heart rate. Fast and then too slow."

"Right. Heart rate. Sorry I bothered you."

"No problem. Saw you sitting there meditating. Went right back to sleep."

"Didn't hear you get up to look."

Jim gestured at the doors to the balcony. "Reflection. I thought you'd go too deep in that trance thing," waving his hand as if to a corporal being sitting next to Blair, "to hear anything."

"It's called a meditative state, Jim and actually, I do maintain a certain awareness of my surroundings, of things changing. Or being watched. Normally."

Jim's flexed one shoulder and glanced away for a second. "Unn. So. Something up? You're not exactly an early morning guy, Chief. Problems at the Academy? " Jim's brow furrowed.

"No, man, that sort of thing is long over. Just had something to process and I woke up and thought I might as well, you know, meditate for a bit." He unfolded his legs and rose gracefully to his feet.

Jim was studying him, a quick sidelong glance and then that odd little tilt to his head that meant he was listening; checking his heart rate. Jim in Blessed Protector mode. This monitoring by the Sentinel might have irritated Blair at one time but after four years together, he had grown used to it. No, more than that. He appreciated that Jim cared enough to make sure, on the most basic of levels, that he was in no distress. In this case, luckily, the meditation and his slow exit from it had left his heart rate calm.

Jim seemed satisfied. "Since we are up, how about breakfast?"

"I could eat. What are you going to make?"

Jim fwapped him on the head, mussing his long curls. "Your turn to cook, Julia. I'll have the usual. Won't take me long in the shower."

"Don't use it all." Blair waited, knowing.

A quizzical look. "Hot water? Isn't that my line?"

A grin in reply. "Yah, but then I am normally the first one to shower."

The morning routine kicked into gear and ahead of schedule, they headed out to their respective days: Jim to the PD and Blair to the Academy.

Blair was through the bulk of his day before he knew it. Too soon he was going to be up against what he had shoved to the back of his thoughts.

Weird the way time seemed so flexible, so mutable. Vision time. Dream time. Drawing him toward those things his spirit must deal with. Forcing the Shaman of the Great City to consider what needed to be considered. Deep in his mind, a wolf howled and he followed the sound through his thoughts. Into the spirit world of blue light. Among the trees, toward, toward ...

A voice yelling an order to 'move up' startled him. This was not the time to go off musing about a shaman's role in this urban world. Not while he stood in a line of Academy cadets shuffling forward steadily toward four long tables. In four alphabetized lines, yet. What was it about military-structured organizations that required such regimentation? What matter did it make in what order everyone lined up? There was a card on each table specifying the letters of the last names it would serve. There had to be something here he should research, maybe for a symposium paper. Yah, he could ...

A slight push from behind snapped him out of his reverie.

"Hey Sandburg, move on, would ya? Some of us have other things to do." Tommy Sandler grinned at him.

"Whatz' her name, Tommy?" he leered at his fellow cadet.

"None of your business. I heard about you. Dated every woman at the PD."

Blair frowned in concentration. Then he slowly shook his head. "Not every woman. Not Madge in records. Nope, never Madge."

"Can't believe that. Way I heard it, you had to beat them off with a stick."

Blair laughed. "Yah, a stick of gum. In Madge's case, the old charm didn't work at all. That woman wouldn't let me give her the time of day." A shake of his head and then a grin at Tommy. "So, see - I left one for you!" With a friendly slap on the taller cadet's broad shoulders, "I'll even introduce you to her."

"Gee, thanks. My lady will really appreciate that."

As Blair was about to quip back, a man behind one of four long tables ordered, "Move up, Cadet. Name?"

He approached the long table. "Um, Blair Sandburg."

A hard voice from behind him, "That the way you do it now, Cadet?" Sergeant Pincole strode up to Blair from where he had been pacing behind the line of cadets, keeping an eye on the proceedings.

Blair straightened up, just short of snapping to attention and repeated, as he had so often during his time at the Academy, "No, Sergeant." And then to the man standing behind the table, "Cadet Sandburg, No. 3457," handing over the authorization form he had been given earlier that day.

The man stepped back and sorted through a line of garment bags hung on a rack. With a satisfied grunt he selected a bag, laid it on the long table and then turned to locate a couple of boxes from a pile on a smaller table against the wall. "Sign here, Cadet Sandburg."

A quick signature and the boxes and bag were pushed toward Blair. Slipping the garment bag over his left arm, he gathered the two boxes to his chest and trotted quickly toward the door. A voice stopped him.

"CADET SANDBURG!"

<Shit!> Stopping and turning, "Yes, Sergeant?"

"You running to some purpose, Cadet? Some emergency I don't know about?"

"No, Sergeant. Just have an appointment to make."

"You've been racing to appointments since you got here to the Academy. Tell, me Cadet, were we able to help you organize your life a bit better so you can walk to your appointments?"

Blair just stared at the man, not sure what to say.

"All right, just don't run at your graduation ceremony, Cadet."

"Yes Sergeant." As he started to turn away, the Sergeant continued.

"You're going to look like the other cadets at the graduation, aren't you? Not stick out like a sore thumb?"

The old complaint. Repressing a desire to ask why that was important, he replied, "No Sergeant." At the man's shocked glare, "I mean, yes, Sergeant.".

"Get going, Cadet." The big officer waved him on as he would vehicle at an intersection.

Blair took off, moving just below a run, before the Sergeant thought of something else to say.

Two hours later, Blair was in his room, just closing his closet door, when he heard the front door open. A familiar 'smells great, Chief' greeted him.

<Damn, he's home already.> Blair took a deep breath and strode out through the french doors and into the kitchen area. One hand lifted the lid on the big pot of spaghetti sauce, the other reached for the long-handled wooden stirring spoon. Nonchalantly he began to swirl the sauce around, leaning down to sniff. "Hey, Jim. Dinner in 30."

Jim had passed the cook island on his way upstairs but he paused in mid-room and glanced at Blair again. A quirk of lips, "Ah Chief, that's not a chef's hat there," pointing to the uniform hat on Blair's head. "Unless you are planning another double career. Detective Blair Sandburg, The Cop Chef, always stirring up trouble. Bet there's a TV series in that." Jim smiled broadly, pleased with his joke.

"I. We got our dress uniforms today and I..."

"was trying it on." Jim wandered back toward the kitchen. "So going to put the rest on? Give me a preview?"

"Well, I already did try it all on. Just finished hanging it up." He looked toward Jim's clear blue eyes. "But I could get it out again if you really wanted to see it."

Jim's proximity had him flustered. Months of emotional tension and the gradual surfacing of his sexual feelings for Jim had culminated in an intensely erotic daydream of his roommate as Blair was trying on his uniform. There in his mind's eye was the scene: he as the cop just finished handcuffing Jim as the perp. Jim on his knees, struggling against cold metal cuffs; Blair standing over him, watching with eyes hidden behind mirrored sunglasses, hands in tight leather gloves griping Jim's shoulders, keeping him on his knees.

Now, with Jim before him, all this talk of uniforms was setting his body on fire again.

<Damn, he is going to notice. Blasted Sentinel senses!>

Unthinkingly, Blair gave the sauce an extra vigorous stir. A wave of hot sauce splashed over the lip of the pot and onto his shirtfront. He leapt away, yelping, and dropped the wooden spoon onto the floor.

"OW! Shit! Ow, ow! Damn, that's hot. Damn, damn."

Blair danced backward, as if he could get away from the scalding sauce covering the front of his shirt. His hands scrabbled at the material, pulling the shirt away from his chest. Jim was by his side in a second, slowing his retreat with one hand wrapped around Blair's upper arm. Still trying to get away from the burning sauce, Blair struggled against Jim's grasp. As Jim sought a better grip on the younger man, a rising elbow knocked Blair's hat flying.

Firmly, with a tone developed from years as an officer in the Rangers and as a cop, Jim commanded, "Stand still, Chief! Let me get your shirt off."

The words calmed Blair somewhat and he stood still, though vibrating in place. Jim bent forward, working on the buttons of Blair's shirt while the younger man continued to hold it away from his body. In a few moments, the shirt was discarded and Jim had moved them over to the sink. Dampening the dishcloth in cold water, Jim laid it over Blair's chest.

A yipe at the cold but then a soft sigh of relief. "That feels way better. Thanks, man."

With a pat on Blair's stomach, Jim's eyes glided up, smiling his own relief. "Don't think there is going to be any blistering but..." As his eyes reached Blair's face, the words froze and the smile disappeared. Icy blue eyes narrowed and chilled the younger man as much as the cold dishcloth had.

<Oh, shit.>

In a wintery voice, "What have you done?"

"Just cut my hair." Blair's right hand made an abortive motion upward but stopped in mid-air a few inches from the loosely curly hair that fell no farther than the base of his ears and the nape of his neck. Involuntarily, he took a few steps away from his angry Sentinel.

"Just cut your hair. Is that all?" The voice was dark and low with suppressed anger. A long index finger flicked the short curls around one ear. "Not all, is it?"

"What do you mean?" He stared at Jim, unable to look away from a stare so intense it sent shivers down his spine and sent him several more steps back. Jim moved forward like a stalking cat, anger in every step.

Blair needed to calm things down. "Whoa, man, chill. Just hair." He held up his hands in mock surrender but it did not stop Jim's advance. If anything, the intensity of Jim's glare increased.

"This is no damned joke, Sandburg. Just another proof that you lack real commitment to anything." He grabbed Blair's upper arms and stopped the younger man's retreat. "What happened to all that rhetoric you spouted about refusing to give in to peer pressure? Refusing to conform to 'antiquated expectations and artificial standards'? Just so much bull shit!! Wasn't it?" He shook Blair. "Wasn't it?"

Blair couldn't believe Jim's extreme reaction. All his desire to placate the bigger man had burned away with the manhandling. That and too many weeks of being ordered around at the Academy and all the mess before that over his dissertation. He had had enough.

"Hey! Hey! Who the fuck do you think you are, judging me? Back off!" His hands came up and pushed against Jim's hard pectorals. "Take your paws off me." When Blair's struggles to free himself from Jim's tight grip failed, acid spilled into his voice. Voice hard, "Got news for you, muscle man. It's. My. Hair."

With a suddenness that shocked, Blair was jerked to Jim's body. The Sentinel's voice hard as ice, "No! Mine!" just as Jim's mouth crushed down over his open lips.

His heart seemed to stop. His breathing definitely did and he ceased struggling against the strength that held him.

Jim's tongue had thrust through his parted lips, invading, ravishing, taking. Jim's hands moved up to Blair's head and slid into his hair, curving, trying to grasp, to hold Blair in place but the hair was too short to find purchase. The Sentinel grunted into Blair's mouth and slipped both arms back around Blair's body.

Blair's mind cried out, hysterically, < At fuckin' last!! Damn, he tastes so good! So damned good!> and he lost himself in the sensations.

The slick feel of a hot tongue delving deep, seeking, it seemed, to gauge the size of his throat. A wall of hard muscled flesh pressing to his body. Arms locking him in place. He wanted the invasion to go on forever. But then his senses reeled and his mind went muzzy. Air! He needed air.

With all his power, he shoved Jim back enough to free his mouth. A desperate inhalation, his hands balancing on Jim's biceps.

Jim. Staring, eyes wild, and inhaling hard through his nose, face flushed. Then with a shake of his head, he backed way from Blair, hands dropping to his sides and clenching. Eyes closing off. Face taking on that emotionless expression it did when Jim was overwhelmed. More steps, a retreat.

Just as the Sentinel moved out of Blair's arm reach, the younger man growled, "No. Mine!" and with a step forward, hauled Jim back into his embrace, arms curving around the solid shoulders. One hand, firm on the nape of Jim's smooth neck, dragged his mouth into range. "Mine," softly murmured before Blair took his turn. Mouth on mouth, tongue invading, hands restraining.

< The taste of his mouth...want this...want him...now> and Blair stopped thinking. His arms twined more securely around Jim's neck and shoulders, not holding as much as trying to meld his body into the incredible one in his arms.

After a second of shocked stillness, Jim re-entered the fray. Tongues fought and danced and roiled from one mouth to the other and back again. Their hips had begun to rub back and forth in a slow counter-rock as their mouths moved, igniting fires, destroying thought.

Again they jerked their heads apart for breath. A rough, "Blair, what...?"

"Want you. Now. Now, in there," pulling Jim toward the small bedroom only 10 feet away.

"What," a cough, "what are we doing?" An uncertainty in Jim's voice that Blair was not used to hearing.

"Claiming," and he tugged harder . "Mine." He watched Jim's eyes darken and he was nearly run over when the Sentinel began to move faster than his own backward steps. He pressed his palm over Jim's chest. "No! No, I lead."

Jim paused and then moved more slowly forward at Blair's pace, a half nod combined with an intensely sensual gaze communicating the Sentinel's acceptance of his Guide's control.

Blair bumped into the door frame of his room before stepping to the right and backing again. Jim was making these fast breathy sounds that were driving Blair mad. He needed to get at Jim, to have Jim closer, to feel the hard smooth silk of his partner's skin that he knew was under that shirt.

He halted them mid-room. His fingers found the buttons on Jim's shirt but were shaking too much to do anything effective about them.

<Got to calm down. Get control. Make this last. Make it last. Calm down.>

He leaned his forehead against Jim's shoulder and splayed his broad fingers across Jim's chest. With an effort, he took a long shuddering breath in. Ragged breath out. Deeper inhalation, slower exhalation. Again in, out and he felt his heart slow down to something approaching a reasonable rate. Above his head, he could hear Jim's own breathing even out, his heart slow and match his own rate.

<Gods, he's attuned to me! To the rhythms of my body. If I'm calmer, he will be. And if I go right off the deep end, if I lose control? What happens when I have an orgasm, what is that going to do to him? Shit!>

The idea terrified him and enthralled him, the way everything associated with being Jim's Guide always had. The two-edged sword of fear and fascination, both so irresistible.

He became aware that Jim's body was vibrating slightly, like an engine at idle but ready to roar into action, full throttle, 0 to 60 in seconds. All that power was beneath his fingertips, waiting for him to guide it.

He was the Guide.

His eyes rose to meet Jim's gaze and his heart nearly stopped at the desperate passion he saw in crystal blue eyes. Not icy any more, oh no, now the million-year fire of a blue diamond's sparkle. All his. That fire was all for him.

Time to deliver. To guide.

Eyes locked with his Sentinel, he began to undo the buttons on Jim's shirt, fingers now steady. No need to see what he was doing. One by one, the buttons submitted to him. When Jim trembled, Blair ran one hand up over his shoulder and neck, gentling. A soft sound like the wind in pines passed through Blair's lips and he felt Jim attend to it and relax slightly.

The buttons were opened and he pulled the shirttails from Jim's slacks. As his hands ran up Jim's ribs, drawing the shirt apart, Jim sighed and arched his back, mouth agape, eyes begging but he uttered no words. Just waited for his Guide's direction.

Blair's own control was cracking and he realized he had to hurry. He pushed Jim's shirt off shoulders and down impressive biceps, letting it drop to the floor, unheeded. With one step he was fully in Jim's space, his own bare chest brushing across the defined planes of the Sentinel's sculpted muscles. For a moment he focussed only on the feel of skin on skin, warmth to warmth. He basked in that warmth, better than any flannel shirt.

A soft groan from his Sentinel drew his attention back to what remained to be done. His hands reached down and undid the belt around Jim's waist. Found the button and the zipper and dealt with them. Tugged the slacks and boxers down and over the burgeoning flesh until they puddled at Jim's ankles on top of his shoes.

<Damn. Got to get the shoes off. Ok, you can handle this. Delegate.>

One hand on Jim's left bicep, a step back. "Jim, man, take off your shoes. No, don't... just heel them off. Right. Good. Now the other one, great. Step out of your pants. Perfect."

There before him, Jim's incredible body was displayed. He stood contemplating, lost in the wonder of it, a smile of appreciation spreading across his face. He had dreamed of this, seeing Jim naked. And his. But nothing, no erotic dreams or daytime fantasies prepared him for the reality. The sheer masculine beauty of the man's body. The undreamed-of delight of Jim's rosy erect penis. The fine line of chest to hip to leg. And more than the physical, the emotion laid out for him, the trust and the desire. It scared him so, that part of him wanted to run.

<No! Don't panic. He needs you not to panic. Shit, I need you not to panic. Deep breath. Come on, you want this. Take what he offers.>

Still Blair stood, tongue running over his lips, breath hitching slightly. He wanted to act but he was worried about his lack of experience with men. So often he had been able to get through guiding Jim with a faked confidence but he did not want to do that now. This was too important.

A voice, deep and rough startled him. "Blair...please. Now."

Blair looked up at Jim's face and widened his eyes in mute appeal. The Sentinel smiled softly and nodded.

Jim's hands reached out for him, long fingers curving around the hard bone of his shoulder joints and then sliding down over his arms to tighten at his wrists. One hand circling Blair's right wrist in a loose grip, the Sentinel's other hand tugged the waistband of his sweats down in a sharp, efficient move that had Blair naked in a second. With a satisfied grunt, Jim stepped back again.

The soft, appreciative 'ah' as Jim's gaze slid down Blair's body was very gratifying in its direct simplicity. And arousing. He felt his penis thicken and bob slightly under Jim's eyes. A predatory smile curved the Sentinel's lips and the man stalked forward, image of his panther spirit, skin moving over muscle and bone, velvet over steel.

Blair's heart sped up, his breathing hitched. A deeply primal part of himself screamed <Run! Run! Escape!> and he half-turned toward the door. But Jim was faster and trapped him within strong arms before the Guide could take a step. Heart trip-hammering, Blair closed his eyes.

"Blair. Look at me. Look at me."

He glanced up, caught in the fire that was Jim's eyes.

"I need to know...do you want to do this? Do you want me to make love to you? Just say yes...or no." The voice was deceptively calm but Blair heard the anxiety.

"Yes, yes. Yes. Please. Yes." He pushed his hips forward in reply, not quite repressing the gasp when his penis brushed against Jim's hot member. "Oh, please," much softer but ragged.

The bed was three steps away. They were there in a second, Jim falling backward and dragging Blair down on top, then rolling until Blair's back was touching the wall and Jim on his side facing Blair. A fast thrust of hips and Blair groaned as the larger man's cock collided with his. Their mouths met again, hot and sweet and tongues tasted and caressed.

Jim's hands slid around and down Blair's back, following his spine to the rise of his ass. Cupped the full roundness there, squeezed and parted his cheeks. One long finger ran down the dusky crease, rubbing and seeking until the entry was found, brushed, tested. Probed gently.

Blair's mouth rolled away from Jim's lips and he moaned at the intense sensations rampaging through him. He trembled, in passion and fear. Never had he been with another man in this deeply intimate way. He wanted it and was nervous of it. How to explain without seeming either afraid or foolish?

Another probe, deeper this time and Blair cried out softly, 'oh'. Jim paused, his eyes watching his partner's eyes, waiting. Blair realized his lover understood! He did not have to explain. Gods but he loved this man. Blair caught his breath and nodded. The finger continued inward, slowly rotating.

When Blair groaned, Jim moved closer and murmured, "Relax, let your body accept. I will make it so good for you. Trust me."

"Oh, Jim, that feels so strange ... but good. Really good ! I. This is my first..."

"I know," very quietly. The finger withdrew but two came back. "Easy. Deep breath and let it out slowly. More stretching now."

"In. I need you in me. Please, Jim. Now." The needy begging surprized him. Could that be his voice?

"Not yet, babe. Need to prepare you. Don't want to hurt you. Can't hurt you. Enjoy the feeling. I will be there as soon as I have you ready."

As he spoke, Jim's fingers were scissoring, loosening and caressing at the same time. Blair's loins were quivering in pleasure at the sensations Jim's fingers were producing. His heart was pounding at his chest wall and he was starting to pant, straining to get the oxygen he needed.

Suddenly all the pleasuring stopped. Jim withdrew his fingers, rolled off the bed and stood up.

"Jim? What? Did I do something...?"

The Sentinel leaned down and rubbed a soothing hand down Blair's flank. "Everything is ok, once I find some lube."

"Lube?"

"To ease the way, babe." He grinned at the blush that stained Blair's cheeks. "I think I have something upstairs."

"No, wait. The drawer of my night table. There's...there's..." Blair's hand was waving at the low table. When Jim pulled the drawer out, "there, at the back."

Jim shoved aside a paperback book, a roll of Lifesavers, a sock, and half of a dried-up cinnamon bun to find a tube of H2O Plus Face Oasis.

At Jim's raised eyebrow, "What? A guy can't have a dry skin problem? I will have you know that was recommended to me by..."

"By your last girlfriend. I know." Jim stared at ingredient list on the tube. "Sea lettuce? Sea lettuce!?"

A grin, "All natural, man, no oils, water based!"

With a sharp laugh, "Just like you. It will do. Especially if ... got any condoms in there?" Jim bent over, peering into the depths of the drawer, one long finger nudging things to the side. "Well, yes, you do. Glad to see you also take all the precautions." Face more serious, "I want you to know all my tests have been negative."

"Me too. I'm clean, man. Honest." <Gods, I sound like a scared kid trying to convince an adult!>

A soft smile, "I believe you."

"So, do we need to use...?" he gestured vaguely at the packet of condoms in Jim's hand.

"Yes, we do. There can be problems from anal penetration if we don't use condoms. Ok?"

Blair found his tongue would not move so he just nodded. The man never ceased to amaze him. How could repressed Jim Ellison speak so casually about such intimate things while he, the hippie, the free-love kid, was blushing and inarticulate?

The bed dipped as the big man lay down again and leaned toward Blair. Jim's hand spread over the hair of Blair's chest and slid back and forth, now and then flicking at his nipples. Blair's cock had dipped downward after Jim got out of bed but now, every flick of Jim's fingers went right to Blair's groin and raised him to hardness again. In fact, there was a throb through his entire groin so intense, his hips thrust up in response.

"Eager, babe? Patience. We will both enjoy this much more if we don't rush it." A long hand smoothed over Blair's stomach.

"Hey! Who grabbed whom and laid a wet, deep one on him out of the blue? Where did you get all this...restraint?"

"The panther may have been loose for a while but the old man is back in charge. And he knows slower is sweeter. Lasting." Fingers returned to worrying Blair's nipples.

Blair grasped the back of Jim's neck and pulled him into a kiss so fiery that the older man was ignited, his body jerking forward to press onto as much of Blair's skin as possible, arms crossing over Blair's back and one leg lifting to curl over his hip and around his buttocks. Blair was effectively trapped against Jim's body as Jim ravished his mouth.

After several moments, Jim's head lifted so that they could take a breath. In a gasping voice, Blair noted, "I think ...the panther's... back."

A long, rich laugh and then a look so feral and dangerous that Blair caught his breath in response. His mouth was possessed again. Taken. It was the only word. Taken, as another part of him would surely be very soon. His stomach fluttered at the thought of it.

Long fingers sought his opening again, this time exploring deeply and thrusting gently in. Blair moaned and shoved back, wanting an even deeper penetration. After a few moments, Jim withdrew his hand again to Blair's protest but murmured, "Open the lube, babe and spread it on my fingers."

Blair dropped the Face Oasis tube twice before he got it open but he steadied himself enough finally to squirt some cream onto Jim's proffered fingers. He felt the coolness and the slickness of the cream as Jim's fingers entered his body again. Round and in the cream went coating his passage. Then the hand was back demanding more. Again he squeezed the tube and again Jim spread the cream inside. The movements were causing him to gasp for breath.

When Jim's fingers withdrew again, Blair groaned, "Please, please, I need you. I AM ready. Please!"

"Just let me get this...blasted condom open." The packet was slipping in Jim's greased fingers. He rubbed one hand over Blair's hip, cleaning it of the cream and then was able to get the foil packet open. With a speed that spoke of his desire, Jim unrolled the condom onto his blood-dark penis.

"Now, I need you to turn over, face away from me, on your side."

"Shouldn't I get on my knees or something? Isn't ...isn't that the right position? Or on my back?"

"Not your back. That's the hardest on you. For the first time, on your side is easiest."

"Oh." Blair rotated in place, there not being a lot of room on his bed.

His lover's hands drew Blair's upper leg back until, foot flat on the sheet and knee in the air, his buttocks parted. Jim slid a little down in the bed and up against Blair's back. The younger man could feel the heat of Jim's cock as it nudged between his asscheeks. Adjusting position, Jim moved forward in a steady, slow drive. The fat head of his cock nudged and breached the tight entry.

<Shit, that hurts. Burns! Oh. Oh!> He hissed at the pain, body tensed, teeth clenched, trying not to make a noise.

The Sentinel stilled when he was all the way in, one hand gliding back and forth over Blair's hip in a comforting connection. Voice tight, "Easy. Take...your...time. Deep breaths. Relax."

With an effort, Blair opened his jaws and took a shaky breath. Another and spread his fingers wide. With the next breath, he focussed on his anal muscles, on letting the tightness go.

<Oh. Oh, that is...ok...full. So full. That is good. Oh, gods, yes...so good!>

When Blair grunted and adjusted back into Jim's groin, Jim pulled out and slipped back almost immediately. Out and back. Over and over. Deep and sweet. Power restrained. Blair could feel how much Jim was holding back..

A long-fingered hand slid around and grasped Blair's straining cock at the base. Jim's fingers found the big vein and followed it up and down in the same rhythm as his thrusts. Gripping firmly but not squeezing. At the bottom of the movement, Jim's thumb found his scrotum and rubbed it. Then a rising tug and down again. A little faster and then lighter. Slower and harder. Faster and lighter.

Blair was starting to rock forward into Jim's hand and shove back onto his penis alternating between the two agents of torment and ...ooh...pleasure.

The fire was building, an agony that wanted, that demanded more. An impossible choice between Jim's hand and Jim's cock. Blair brought his hand over Jim's and pressed the long fingers harder around his throbbing member, angling so that the fingers spiraled up and down. Oh. Just the way he liked it.

The old bed was squeaking as they jerked back and forth. Their bodies were slipping in the sweat that coated their skin and eased the pattern Jim had set. Then Jim hit a place inside that shot liquid fire through Blair's whole body and he cried out.

"Oh, yesss. Oh yesss. More...more...harder...harder...oohh."

Jim's own voice had ceased to function, only grunts and pants snuffing hard from the hot face pressed to Blair's neck. The rhythm that the Sentinel had started, slow then fast thrusts, was long lost. His movements became more erratic and frenzied. Deeper and harder, as fast as he could manage it. Blair had to extend a hand to keep from being slammed into the wall. The force of Jim's thrusts, all that muscle engaged, was straining Blair's own strength and he could feel his arm muscles begin to quaver under the onslaught.

Suddenly Blair's release came upon him. His whole body tightened, back arching, mouth open, eyes shut, muscles clenching hard, splashing warmth over Jim's hand. Jim grunted as Blair's internal muscles grabbed him. He thrust twice against the pressure and cried out as he spasmed inside his lover.

Blair felt himself melt into the bed, slipping into a dreamy state with a long, sweet sigh. Jim's head fell onto his shoulder and the big body snuggled against him, chin at the join of Blair's neck and shoulder, Jim's nose up into Blair's sweaty curls. A low "love you, babe. So much," huffed in a warm breath into his ear. Unable to speak, Blair grasped the long arm that came around his middle, pressed his head back against Jim's shoulder and moaned his answer.

Blair drifted, languid in body and mind. Languid and sated and so entirely happy.

They lay quiet, on their sides chest to chest, close but heads far enough apart to see each other's face. Fingers caressed gently, not seeking to arouse but to express feelings that words would only distort. Soft murmurs of pleasure in touching and being touched.

Jim's fingers kept going back to Blair's short curly hair. Rubbing through it, wrapping short bits around a finger. Brushing it off of Blair's forehead, away from his face, back behind his ears. Delving from the nape of Blair's neck up into the curls.

Blair watched Jim's face as the Sentinel's eyes followed the movement of his own hand. He could see a question forming in those eyes and he readied himself.

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"The hair. Why did you cut it? Was it the Academy? Did it finally matter? Did you want to fit in, at the end?" The anger and accusation of a couple of hours ago were gone. There might even have been apology in the tone.

"No. Fitting in with other people's expectations, that was never the reason. Though, you are right, the Academy was a part of it."

"Don't get that."

"It's an anthropology thing." At the longsuffering look on Jim's face, "No, really. See, in all cultures there are these...rituals...we go through when we pass into a new phase of our lives. The end of the ritual usually involves some outward sign of that change. For many non-technology-based cultures, that might be ritual scarring of the skin in a visible place. Or different clothes or body painting. Even different hair styles. A statement to the community to say that the person has gone through this change. Like the Senufo people of the Ivory Coast. An adolescent boy who goes through the maturity ritual gets to wear the Kpeliye'e mask and an elaborate cloth and raffia costume in a special celebration in front of the whole village. Says to everyone, including the ladies, that he is an adult member of the tribe, ready to take on the full role of a man."

"So, you're telling me this means you are ready to be an adult? About time, Chief. People were starting to talk."

Blair swatted Jim's chest. "Jerk. No. For me, cutting my hair is that outward sign that I am no longer on the fringes of society, as a student. I am fully into the world. Part of the tribe, not studying it. You see?"

"Yah. But you are still working on your dissertation so you still are a student, aren't you?"

"Yes and no. I am going to be one of the" a grin, "the tribal guardians. Officially, with a share of the kill for my efforts."

"The kill? Wait a minute, Chief, I thought you didn't like guns."

"Metaphorically. Geez. You big goober. I. Will. Be. Paid. Part of the kill, the spoils of being a guardian. See? Symbolic stuff. It's all part of the primitive culture that is Cascade. So I felt I had to mark that. I needed to make this change and not just for me. So everyone would know."

Jim nodded. "Makes sense. Damn, one of your crazy theories just made sense to me! I am so in trouble!!" With a theatrical cry, he threw his head back onto the pillow and covered his eyes with a hand.

"Keep that up and no more nookie." He laughed at Jim's answering pout and then peered at his lover, uncertain of the effect his next words would produce. "So, Jim, umm, we going to, you know, mark this?" He gestured to their entwined bodies.

"I am NOT cutting my hair!" One of Jim's hands, palm out, pushed the idea away.

Blair burst out laughing, recognizing the source of Jim 's teasing comment. "Not enough up there to cut, Jean-Luc. Nobody would notice a difference." His face settled from the laugh. "Seriously, do you...I mean, are we...is there something?"

Jim cupped Blair's face with a hand, a thumb rubbing that full bottom lip. "Yes, I do. We are. There is." The Sentinel's gaze roamed over his Guide's features, a small smile curving his lips. "You want a ritual, that's all right with me, babe. But nothing weird, ok?"

"I guess that leaves out charcoal-stained pectoral scars, feathers masks or nose piercings."

"Let's start simple. How about you moving upstairs? As a first step." Jim raised his eyebrows at Blair.

Blair blinked and then grinned widely. "Oh, yeahhh. I have dreamed about being in that bed. Perfect start." Running a finger across the tip of Jim's nose, "Then we can talk about the nose piercings."

"Sandburg!" in a panther growl.

"Kidding, Jim. Kidding." He ran a hand over his own head. "So, what do you think about my hair this length?"

Jim's fingers lost themselves in the short curls again. He pursed his lips and considered for a moment. "I am getting used to it. As long as it doesn't get any shorter."

"Or?"

"I may have to ravage you. Again. " The panther sprang and crushed his prey into his arms.

"Careful. That might encourage me to shave it all off," Blair laughed as he snuggled into Jim's embrace. "Well, there is one good thing out of me cutting my hair."

"And that would be?"

"Would we be here," hand waving over their naked bodies on the narrow bed, "like this if I hadn't stirred the Primitive Throwback to action by chopping off the locks?"

Jim blushed. "I shouldn't have..."

Blair tapped a finger over Jim's lips and shook his head. "No, love, I understand. I rather like the Throwback." He deepened his voice and stared challengingly, "Dare he take me again? "

Fire filled the Sentinel's eyes and a growled 'mine' rumbled before Jim took possession of Blair's mouth.

Blair gave himself up to the kiss, sighing with pleasure as his body sang with the feel of his lover's warm flesh pressing him into the mattress.

Finis