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Hair
by Lianne Burwell
July 1998
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Blair listened to the gunfire downstairs, wondering who was shooting, who 
was winning. He was praying that Jim was the one shooting and winning, 
and that he was unhurt. Blair struggled with his bonds, but the ropes 
were too tight and the duct tape over his mouth made it impossible to cry 
out for help.

Then the shooting stopped. He held still, waiting for a sign.

"Chief! Can you hear me?"

Jim. Blair sagged in relief, then started rocking in the chair, trying to 
make enough noise to attract attention. It was unnecessary, but it made 
him feel like he was actually doing something to contribute to his own 
rescue.. Unfortunately, he overdid it, and the chair crashed over. Blair 
was lying on the floor, dazed by the uncontrolled fall, when Jim broke the 
door down.

In a moment, he had Blair untied, and ripped the tape from his face. 
Blair winced as he felt some of the stubble being ripped out by the roots.

"Chief," Jim said, running his hands over the smaller man, looking for 
injuries, and just indulging himself in touching his partner. "Are you 
okay?"

Blair worked his mouth, feeling the stickiness from the tape still glued 
to his lips. No way was he going to kiss Jim with his mouth tasting this 
awful. "I've been better," he finally said. Jim just hugged him in relief.

* * * * *

Blair stood in the bathroom, staring at his reflection. He didn't like 
what he saw.

At least he was clean, though.

After he'd been checked by the paramedics, and made his report to the 
police, Jim had dropped him off at the loft. His lover had obviously not 
been too crazy about leaving him alone again, but Blair wanted a shower 
and a shave and clean clothes - his own - and Jim had to go write up his 
report.

Three days. Three days the sonofabitch'd had him. Jacob Braga's older 
brother was in jail, awaiting trial, and he'd decided that kidnapping a 
police consultant would be the perfect lever to get his big brother out 
of jail. Either Jeffrey was released, and charges dropped, or Jacob would 
kill Blair. Didn't the shmuck know that the police weren't going to do 
that? Jeffrey Braga was going on trial for brutally killing his 
girlfriend, and it was an air-tight case. Like hell was he walking.

Blair ran his fingers through his hair, feeling the nearly-shorn area. To 
prove that he had Blair, Braga had cut off a chunk of Blair's hair, and 
sent it to the police station. Unfortunately it was a *large* chunk, and 
very *very* obvious.

Blair looked at himself in the mirror, considering his options, but they 
were pretty limited. He grimaced at himself, then headed for the living 
room and the phone.

"Carol?" he said when the other end was picked up. "It's Blair. Could you 
come over? And bring your scissors."

* * * * *

Jim was relieved to finally be heading home. It had been one hell of a 
week. Going to pick up Blair at the University and finding Blair's office 
trashed, and his lover gone, had been a nightmare come to life.

And then the package showing up at the police station. He'd known what it 
was before he even opened it. He recognized the scent of Blair's herbal 
shampoo, so the lock of hair had been no surprise. Thankfully, there'd 
been no blood scent.

Three days, it had taken them to find Blair. Three days of hell, while 
the FBI had stalled Braga. Three days of worry.

But Blair had been found, unharmed, and now *he* was home, and looking 
forward to cuddling his beloved. No criminals, no psychos, no 
interruptions. They were going to turn off the phones, lock the door and 
indulge in some good, old-fashioned sweaty fun.

* * * * *

"Honey, I'm home," Jim called out with a grin as he locked the door 
behind him. He turned around and looked for his lover. Blair was coming 
out of the downstairs bedroom, which he used mainly as an office. Jim 
felt his chin hit his chest.

"What the hell happened to your hair?" he blurted out before he could 
stop himself.

Blair ran a hand over his head, looking a little self-conscious. "Braga 
cut off too much to disguise. I have a friend who is a hair dresser. She 
said that if I ever decided to go short, to call her and she'd do it for 
free. And it had to go pretty short to avoid looking ridiculous. It'll 
grow out again." Suddenly, he seemed to realize that Jim wasn't really 
listening. "Jim? Are you all right?"

"It's short," was all Jim could say.

Blair rolled his eyes in disgust. His great, big, beautiful eyes. Without 
the curls framing them, they looked larger than usual. And his 
cheekbones. Without the locks right up against them, they looked sharp 
and chiseled. Cheekbones that a model would kill for. And his lips. Blair 
had sensual lips, but now they looked even more so. But he also looked...

"You look like you're fifteen. Max."

Blair groaned. "Now you know why I keep it long. I've always looked young 
for my age, but long hair seemed to help. But, like I said, it'll grow 
back. In the meantime..."

Suddenly, Jim had Blair wrapped around him, and his neck was being 
nibbled at.

"Have I told you how grateful I am for the rescue?" Blair purred. "No? 
Let me show you."

This was what he'd been looking forward to for the last few hours, and 
his cuddly armful was the sexiest man, bar none, but...

Blair pouted when he pulled away. "What's wrong?" he asked, sounding 
mildly put off.

"I..." Jim tried to articulate his problem. "You look like you're 
fifteen."

"And?"

"You look underage. I feel like I should be arrested for even thinking 
of..."

Blair stared at him in disbelief. "I'm going to be thirty in a few 
months. We've been lovers for nearly three years. Yet, despite that, you 
can't get past a *haircut*?"

By this point, Blair was advancing on him with a dangerous look on his 
face. Jim backed up until he was plastered against the door. The best 
thing he could come up with was "Um..."

"Well, if you've got some crazy idea about not touching me until the hair 
grows out, well you can forget it. I'm *not* going to spend the next 
several months celibate, until you decide that I look *old* enough for 
you!"

Jim was hypnotized by the look in Blair's eyes as he advanced. It was the 
strangest mix of anger and lust he'd ever seen. Only the hefty amount of 
love added to it saved it from being the sort of look you might see on a 
rapist. Jim felt himself getting aroused, but the young-looking face 
still made him hesitate.

Blair stopped and nailed him to the door with his eyes. "Great," he 
muttered, then grabbed Jim by the shirt front. The next thing Jim knew, 
he was being dragged across the room and up the stairs to their bedroom.

"Chief, wait," he protested weakly before he found himself hitting the 
bed.

"No way, Jim," Blair replied, stripping his clothes off as he spoke. "We 
are nipping this little problem off in the bud. Now, do you want to take 
those clothes off, or shall I do it *for* you?"

Jim shivered, realizing that Blair was deadly serious. If he didn't Blair 
*would*. He could feel himself getting harder. A masterful Blair was awe-
inspiring. Not to mention that taking his clothes off made him look more 
his age. Fifteen year olds weren't usually that well-developed. Or hairy.

Jim started pulling his shirt off, but Blair had obviously decided he was 
moving fast enough. His shirt was pulled open (he dimly heard a button 
pop off and automatically tracked it with his hearing so he could find it 
later), and off. Before he had recovered from that, his fly had been 
unzipped, and his pants and underwear were pulled down together, his 
shoes and socks going with them. The bundle of fabric and footwear hit 
the wall with a thump.

All thoughts of resisting had already fled his mind, but he decided not 
to let Blair know that. He was curious to see what his lover had planned. 
Blair was rarely this aggressive in bed, and Jim liked it, so he just 
settled back into the pillows and waited to see what his partner would do 
next.

He didn't have long to wait. Blair was all over him, touching, kissing, 
licking, pinching. Jim's brain was about to go into a total meltdown. 
When Blair's lips wrapped themselves around his cock, he whimpered. Jim 
reached down to caress the bobbing head. A moan of disappointment 
escaped him when his finger met curls that were too short to properly 
thread his fingers through, but the tone changed again as Blair put his 
very talented tongue to work.

Several days of involuntary celibacy, combined with several hours of 
anticipation, had left Jim in no condition to hold off his orgasm. Faster 
than he would have liked, he was arching up and shooting into Blair's 
mouth. He fell back onto the mattress, completely boneless, to wait for 
Blair's next move.

That move involved the top of a tube of lubricant pushed against his 
anus, and the tube squeezed. Jim hissed as the cool gel impacted with 
nerve endings that were already anticipating what was coming next. The 
cool gel was followed by warm fingers, then a cock that felt like it was 
burning hot. Jim's legs were over Blair's shoulders, and the smaller man 
was pounding him unmercifully.

Then he stopped. Jim moaned, and reached for his partner's ass, trying to 
pull him in again, but Blair resisted.

"I thought I looked too young," he said in a slightly mocking tone. "I 
thought you didn't want this?"

"Blair..."

"Maybe you're right. Maybe we shouldn't."

Blair started to pull away, but Jim moved his legs to wrap them around 
Blair's waist in a grip that was tight enough to almost crack his ribs.

"Don't you  dare, Chief. I was an  idiot, and I'm sorry. Now 
*fuck* me, damnit!"

"Just making sure, Jim. After all, I wouldn't want to force you into 
something you didn't want to do." Jim tried to laugh, but Blair had 
started thrusting again, and he couldn't find his breath.

Then Blair shifted angles, and his cock was brushing Jim's prostate with 
every stroke. Jim could feel his own cock getting hard again, and he 
groaned. With Carolyn, he'd rarely been able to get it up more that once 
in a night. Blair had him not only coming two or three times most nights, 
but also in a much shorter time-frame.

Jim tightened his thighs around Blair, pressing his heels into Blair's 
ass to use as leverage to pull the younger man in. In the back of his 
mind, where a few brain-cells were still functioning, he worried that he 
might be leaving bruises. He didn't care. And from the intent look on 
Blair's face, the other man didn't care either.

Jim reached down to start fisting his renewed erection. He could feel his 
balls pulling up in preparation for a second explosion, and the 
expression on Blair's face said that he was getting close, too. Without 
warning, Blair bent down and bit into Jim's chest, right above the left 
nipple.

Jim shouted, and his second, smaller orgasm rushed through him, and he 
could feel Blair deep inside him, giving in to the contractions. Then 
Blair was sliding out, leaving Jim feeling empty. The only thing that 
comforted him was the weight of the compact body that collapsed on top of 
him, sweating and panting.

He *had* been looking forward to some good, old-fashioned sweaty fun, 
after all.

* * * * *

Blair rolled over and looked at Jim. "So," he said, in a conversational 
tone, once he had his breath back, one finger idly tracing the purpling 
bruise on Jim's chest. "Still planning on holding back until you think I 
look old enough?"

Jim gave him a self-satisfied, and completely sated grin. "If I say yes, 
will I get another fucking like that?"

Blair gaped at him for a moment, then picked up his pillow and wapped his 
grinning lover over the head with it. He was immediately pulled into a 
bear-hug and kissed senseless.

Things were back to normal.

THE END