Thanks to Christi for an extraordinary beta effort. Her suggestions
and insight made this a better story. Thanks also to Alyjude
and WoD, who got me into this, er, offered much support and encouragement.
Warnings: m/m, violence
Dragon at the Gate
Jim sighed. He had been working on the pile
of paperwork for two hours, but somehow -- it seemed to be growing,
not shrinking. To add to the annoyance factor, a relentlessly
chipper IT tech was installing new computers in the bullpen,
singing to himself while he worked. Jim glared ferociously at
the tech, who was apparently tone deaf. It was driving Jim crazy.
"Just tune him out, Jim," Blair
said from his end of the paperwork pile.
"He's singing The Carpenters now, Chief,"
Jim complained.
"Jim, as your designated back-watcher,
I must point out that Simon will never forgive you if you get
rid of the guy before all the new computers are installed. And
it's raining much too hard today for us to do a good job of hiding
the body."
Jim chuckled. "You goofball, Sandburg."
"Yeah, but I'm your goofball. By the
way, Jim," he asked slyly, "how did you know he was
singing The Carpenters? I thought you never listened to that
stuff."
Jim was spared answering by Simon's familiar
bellow. "Ellison, Sandburg! My office, gentlemen."
The partners shared a puzzled glance.
"Gentlemen? What did you do, Chief?"
"Don't look at me, I'm completely innocent."
Jim snorted. "Right."
They rose and crossed the bullpen to the captain's
office. Jim ushered Blair through the door, then closed it behind
himself -- just in case. He sat in the chair by the desk, while
Blair took his seat on the edge of the conference table.
Simon gazed sternly at them from across his
desk. "I just spent twenty minutes on the phone with the
Chief of Police." He leaned back in his chair and continued,
"He just got off of the phone with the FBI."
"If it's about the Mitchell case --"
began Blair, just as Jim cut in with "Agent Pedersen can't
--"
Simon raised a hand to silence both men, the
beginnings of a smile cracking his face. "It is about the
Mitchell case, and Agent Pedersen is involved, but for the first
time since I've known you, Jim, the Feds aren't complaining about
how you treated their men." He rose and walked over to the
coffeepot, poured a fresh cup of coffee, and continued on, "Pedersen
was so impressed with you two and your work on the Mitchell case,
he talked to his boss about it. And apparently, his boss took
it to the head of VICAP -- the Violent Criminal Apprehension
Program. Assistant Director Wesley called the Chief personally
to recruit you two for a pet project of his."
"Part of VICAP's mission is to facilitate
cooperation, communication, and coordination between law enforcement
agencies. Their annual conference on Law Enforcement and Interagency
Cooperation is in San Francisco, and they want you both to take
part in a panel on partnerships." Simon paused and positioned
himself to savor the full effect of his men's reactions.
"The Chief accepted on your behalf."
Blair sat up straight, looking very interested.
Jim groaned. Simon crossed to the door of his office.
"Don't even start, Jim. It's out of my
hands. The conference starts next Monday. Rhonda will make the
arrangements and give you the rest of the information you'll
need. You have the rest of the week to clear as many of your
cases as you can." He opened the door. "Don't let me
delay you, gentlemen, I'm sure you have work to do. And Jim,"
he paused as they halted in the doorway, "I take back everything
I ever said about you being nice to the Feds."
Jim hated conferences. They were invariably
mind and butt-numbingly dull, and he doubted this one would be
any different. But Blair had that familiar sparkle of excitement
in his eyes.
"San Francisco! This is so cool. I love
San Francisco! Do you have any idea how many things there are
to do? This will be terrific!"
"Slow down just a little, Chief. We'll
have to put in some time at the conference, and do that panel."
Blair waved away his comment. "The panel
will be a breeze. And we'll have plenty of time to enjoy ourselves.
And hey, you might even run into Carolyn there," he teased.
"Huh," Jim grunted in response.
He had to admit to himself though, Blair's enthusiasm was contagious.
At least, if he were stuck going to the stupid conference, having
Blair along would keep it interesting. Carolyn would have to
run into them, though. No way would he go looking for his ex-wife
with his new male lover along.
"Oh, man. I'm so tired I can't even see
straight." Blair said as they straggled into the lobby.
"How did a two hour flight become eight hours at the mercy
of the airline?"
"Two mechanical failures and one overbooking,"
Jim replied grimly, hefting the larger of their suitcases. He
felt lucky to have it at all after the amount of rerouting they'd
experienced. "I'm pretty sure making us wait on the plane
in Yakima for two hours is against the Geneva Convention."
"Still have everything dialed down?"
Blair asked, struggling with his own load.
Jim remembered the crowded flights and the
headache-inducing assault on his senses, but Blair's constant
steadying presence had gotten him through it. As they crossed
the cavernous lobby to the registration desk, Jim said, "I'm
beat. But we can still get a few hours sleep before the conference
starts."
The young woman at the registration desk greeted
the weary travelers with a sympathetic smile. "Welcome to
Hyatt Regency. May I help you?"
Registration did not go any better than the
flight. They had a confirmed reservation, but no room available.
The flustered clerk called the night manager.
He explained that the hotel was renovating,
and some rooms were running behind schedule. After profuse apologies,
he offered the only room left, a King Suite, with, he assured
them, a sofa big enough to sleep on.
"That'll be fine," said Jim. As
soon as they finished filling out their registrations, the two
men staggered back across the lobby and rode the elegant glass
elevator up to their suite. Jim checked out the rooms with an
appreciative eye. "Definitely better than Yakima."
At long last, Jim and Blair climbed into the
spacious bed, cuddled comfortably together, and fell asleep.
The shrill ringing of the wake-up call heralded
the morning. Despite only four hours sleep, Jim felt reasonably
human. Now, to wake Blair.
"Hey, Sleeping Beauty. Rise and shine."
Jim's greeting was rewarded with the unintelligible grunt that
was Blair's standard mode of communication before coffee and
a shower.
Jim slipped out of bed. He took a quick shower,
then returned to the bedroom to coax his recalcitrant partner
out of bed. "Come on, Chief. We're supposed to be at the
conference at 8:30. They'll have coffee."
"Mumff-hnee?"
"Yeah, coffee. Why don't you take a nice
hot shower, then we'll go get some coffee."
He wasn't sure which was the stronger motivating
factor, a hot shower or coffee, but the Blair-shaped lump under
the covers began to move. Blair climbed out of bed, and Jim gave
him an encouraging push toward the bathroom.
While Blair showered, Jim completed his morning
ablutions. Just as he finished dressing, Blair stepped out of
the bathroom wearing only a towel. He seemed a bit more coherent
as he crossed to Jim and greeted him properly, with a kiss.
"Morning."
"Yep," Jim agreed, adding a quick
hug. He reluctantly eased back from Blair. "We need to get
going, Chief."
Blair sighed, but quickly finished his morning
routine. He was still feeling a bit sluggish, but stepping into
the elevator snapped him into alertness. Looking out across the
huge atrium and down fifteen floors, he involuntarily crowded
back, closer to Jim. "Oh, man! Glass elevators."
Jim gave him a sympathetic squeeze as he pushed
the button for the lobby. "Sorry, Blair. We can take a different
one next time."
"No, I'm cool, really. It was just --
unexpected. I guess I wasn't paying attention last night."
He shook off his reaction and changed the subject. "So,
let's go get registered for the conference and find that coffee
you mentioned."
They descended to the floor of the atrium
and crossed the now bustling lobby, following the signs directing
them to the conference on the concourse level.
They signed in and picked up their ID and
information packets. Blair promptly immersed himself in the intricacies
of the schedule and speakers as Jim steered them into the main
hall and into their seats.
A few minutes later Blair looked up and around.
Jim was heading toward him carrying a laden plate and two cups
of coffee. "Coffee!" he exclaimed delightedly.
"And here I thought you were happy to
see me, Chief."
"Oh, I am -- since you brought a bagel,
too!" Blair teased. His expression turned serious. "Jim,
William Bass is speaking tomorrow afternoon. We have got to listen
to him."
Jim smiled. Blair said William Bass with the
same reverence he reserved for Sir Richard Burton and Margaret
Mead. "Okay, I'll bite. Who's William Bass?"
"Only the world's foremost forensic anthropologist.
He practically invented the field, he founded the scientific
study of decomposition."
"The "Body Farm" guy?"
"Yeah. He's, like, a living legend in
anthropology!"
"Sure. What else looks interesting?"
"Tuesday morning, there's a panel on
profiling. Wednesday morning, Kay Scarpetta is speaking, she's
forensics for VICAP, and in the afternoon, there's one you'll
like -- new developments in non-lethal weapons."
Jim took a leisurely sip of his coffee. "When
is our panel?"
"Thursday morning."
Jim made a disgusted face. He was hoping to
be able to get out of the conference early. Oh well. He'd just
have to find some way to amuse himself until then. At least Blair
was looking forward to the next few days.
The morning passed slowly as a series of FBI
speakers droned on about the importance of teamwork and cooperation.
Blair amused himself by observing the crowd of attendees. Jim,
in turn, spent the morning indulging in his favorite hobby, watching
Blair.
At last, the conference broke for lunch. They
promptly escaped outdoors. It was a glorious day. The sun was
shining, and it was comfortably warm. A slight breeze blew in
from the bay, carrying the faint tang of salt. Blair finished
his sandwich and leaned back in his chair, his face turned to
the sun. "It's San Francisco's best kept secret."
"Hmm?" Jim said, since his mouth
was full.
"October. In the summer it's cold and
foggy, but October has the best weather, like this. You know
how to spot the tourists? In the summer, they're the ones in
shorts and t-shirts. In October, they're the ones not in shorts
and T-shirts."
"Did you live here?" Jim popped
the last bite of sandwich into his mouth.
"Not exactly. We visited a lot. Naomi
has lots of friends in the area. I haven't been here in years."
Jim checked his watch, then rose and began
collecting the trash from their meal. "Time to head back,
Chief. What's on the agenda for this afternoon?"
Blair scrunched his face up in distaste. "'Federal
Law and Precedence,' followed by 'Accessing the Criminal Informational
Database.' We can round out the afternoon at the Director's Tea."
Jim snorted. "We should have stayed in
Yakima."
They settled in for the afternoon session.
As expected, the lectures were incredibly dull. Jim promptly
gave up any pretense of listening and napped. Blair gave up any
pretense of observing and indulged himself in one of his favorite
hobbies, watching Jim. Eventually, even federal techno-geeks
run out of things to say and the lectures were over. They made
a token appearance at the tea, speaking to a few of the other
attendees, before making their escape at last.
Although the shadows were lengthening, the
day's warmth lingered. As they stood in the sunny plaza outside
the hotel, Jim asked, "What do you want to do, Chief? It's
still pretty early."
Blair thought for a minute. "The last
time Naomi was here, she ate at this terrific restaurant. I checked,
and it's still there, next to Chinatown. It's a bit of a walk,
but I'd kinda like to work some of the kinks out from sitting
all day."
Jim regarded him suspiciously. "It's
not one of those new-age vegetarian places, is it?"
"Man, you are such a throwback sometimes!"
Blair dodged the swat aimed at the back of his head with the
ease of long practice. "No, it's Nepalese food -- like Indian
food, but not quite as spicy. The place is called Katmandu West,
on, um, Stockton street."
"Sounds good, Chief. Let's go."
The evening breeze picked up as they walked,
and Blair shivered. "Hang on a sec, Jim." He rummaged
in his ever-present backpack for a moment, pulled out a sweatshirt,
and put it on.
Jim looked at his partner's shirt and burst
out laughing. "A banana slug? That's just too weird, Sandburg."
"Hey! This used to be my favorite sweatshirt.
I found it again when I cleaned out my office." He launched
into an explanation. "The UC Santa Cruz Slug is, like, the
most subversive mascot of any university I know of! Its evolution
is a fascinating look at the development of a culture, from an
underground subculture to dominance. I did a paper when I was
an undergrad..." Blair continued his animated discourse
as they walked toward the restaurant.
"I can't possibly have missed it! We
walked up Clay to Stockton, turned right, and it's supposed to
be right there, three blocks down on the left side!" Blair
stared in disgust at the three buildings across the street, all
clearly in the middle of renovation. "I looked the place
up last week, damn it. It's supposed to be here!"
"Well, call them for directions."
Blair mumbled something unintelligible.
"What was that, Chief?"
"I said, I left my phone at the hotel,
okay?" Accurately reading Jim's expression, he continued,
"Don't look at me like that! It's not my fault you lost
your phone in Cascade Harbor. I wanted to wait for backup!"
Jim raised his hand in surrender "Whoa,
easy there, Chief." He checked out the surrounding blocks.
They appeared to be in a business area, and most were closed
for the night. "Hey, there's a cafe. They've probably got
a phone." Jim pulled his still fuming partner along. "You
probably got bad directions, that's all. And if not, we'll find
someplace else to eat."
"My mouth was all set for Nepalese,"
Blair grumbled.
"Think of it as an adventure. After all,
you're an anthropologist. You can study the natives while we
hunt for food."
He laughed at Jim's nonsense. "Ooh, yeah.
That's me, the intrepid explorer!"
Jim thwapped the back of his head. "Don't
you forget it!" He held open the door to the cafe, "After
you, Burton."
Blair decided some coffee would be nice, so
while Jim phoned for directions, he ordered a latte to go, and
took it to one of the small tables by the wall. He had just found
a seat when a young Asian man came to the table. He was tall
and gangly, withacne-scarred skin and a receding chin. As if
to compensate for his looks, he was very nicely dressed in a
trendy, monochrome, dark green shirt, suit and tie.
"Richard Burton?" he asked.
"The explorer, not the actor," Blair
replied automatically. His eyes widened when the man sat down.
"You are very prompt, Mr. Burton. That
is good. I am Haung."
Blair just looked at the man, momentarily
speechless. He took in a breath to explain this was a mistake,
then froze as the man reached into his jacket. He remembered
to breathe again when the man pulled out an envelope.
Huang set the envelope on the table. "We
will meet again on Wednesday, at two-thirty. I look forward to
doing business with you." He stood abruptly and left the
cafe. Two burly men got up from their table on the other side
of the cafe and hurried after him. Blair slumped into his seat
as Jim sat down in the recently vacated chair opposite. "You
heard?"
Jim nodded.
"What the hell was that, Jim?"
"I'm not sure, but he was nervous as
hell. His heart was pounding like a jackhammer." He twitched
as he recognized the familiar scent coming from the envelope.
"Come on, Chief. We need to get out of here."
"What? Why?"
"There's heroin in that envelope. I think
it's time to visit the local cops." Jim snagged a napkin
and reached out to pick up the envelope, but Blair blocked him.
"No way, man. You know how that stuff
affects you, and I need you alert." He deftly wrapped the
envelope in the napkin and stuffed it in his pack.
They left the cafe and headed back the way
they came, hurrying down the twilight streets. They had only
walked a few blocks when Jim warned, "Heads up, Chief. Stay
behind me."
Several cars quickly surrounded them, spotlights
glaring. A man's voice shouted "Police! Freeze!" as
people piled out of the cars, guns drawn. "Okay, people,
let's bring them in. Marco, call the Captain."
Dan Robbins, captain of the Narcotics Division,
leaned back in his chair and sipped his coffee. He smiled slightly.
Dinner had been wonderful, and he felt pleasantly relaxed.
"What are you thinking?" asked Carolyn
Plummer, his dinner companion.
"I'm thinking how fortunate I am, to
have dinner with such a beautiful woman."
"Flattery will get you anywhere,"
she laughed.
"No, strictly the truth. Seriously, Carolyn,
thank you. I needed to get out of the office for a while."
"It's my pleasure to fuss over you, Dan.
I find I like it."
"Don't tell anyone, but I do, too. Still,
it's about time to get back." He signaled for the waiter.
"Are you going home after you drop me off?"
"Mmhm. I need to pick up some files first,
but I won't stay long."
His phone, which had been set to vibrate mode,
buzzed. Discreetly, he answered, "Robbins." He listened
for a moment, then responded, "Good. I'm on my way,"
and disconnected. "We've got them, Caro."
Jim and Blair sat in the conference room next
to the captain's office. The local cops had removed the cuffs,
but Jim's badge and gun had not yet been returned to him, nor
had Blair's backpack or police ID. The two lead investigators
on the case regarded them from the other side of the room.
Inspector Tim Hansen was tall and thin, with
sandy blond hair and a pale complexion. He was fashionably dressed
in a suit and tie. He was also obviously pissed off. His younger
partner, Inspector D'Marco Flynn, was shorter and stocky, and
dressed hip-hop style in a baggy warm-up suit and several gold
chains.
They conversed quietly, and Jim listened in.
"Three weeks!" Hansen exclaimed.
"Three fucking weeks gone to hell!"
"D'you buy their story?" Flynn asked.
"They're probably who they claim to be,
Marco, but I don't believe the story. Nobody just innocently
wanders into the middle of a buy with the code phrase."
Jim snorted. They had never encountered the
Sandburg zone before. Both men glared at him, but Jim just looked
innocently back at them.
"Just chill, man," Flynn said. "Cap'n
will be here soon, and we'll get this all straightened out."
Hansen muttered to himself about a "royal
ass-chewing," and Flynn worked very hard at maintaining
his stone-faced expression. When the door opened, all four men
turned to look at the man who walked into the room.
Dan Robbins was not what Jim was expecting.
Boyishly handsome, only the silvered hair at his temples and
his air of authority betrayed his age. He was about six feet
tall, with a runner's rangy build. Jim estimated his age at late
forties to early fifties. He was casually dressed in slacks,
shirt and a sweater, and Jim had the distinct impression that
here was a working captain, not a desk jockey.
"Hansen." It was a command, not
a question.
"Captain. We pulled these two in after
Huang contacted them. The man on your left claims to be a detective
from Washington and the one on the right is supposed to be a
consultant working with him. We're waiting on confirmation of
their ID. They say this is all a mistake."
Flynn jumped in, "Sir, contact was clearly
made with Huang, and he even left them a sample."
Robbins raised an eyebrow at that. He gave
the two men from Cascade a rather chilly smile as he pulled up
a chair and sat down. "Gentlemen. I'm looking forward to
your -- explanation."
With a perfunctory knock at the door, Carolyn
Plummer entered the room. "Excuse me for just one moment.
I need the... Jimmy?"
"Hello, Carolyn."
"What are you doing here? Why didn't
you let me know you were in town?" She crossed the room
and took his hand. "It's good to see you again, Jim,"
she said with a warm smile.
Blair shifted in his seat. Releasing Jim's
hand, Carolyn turned to face him. "Still have your shadow,
I see." Her tone was slightly mocking, not malicious. "Hello,
Blair."
"Carolyn."
Robbins cleared his throat. "I take it
you know these men, Caro?"
She laughed. "We used to work together,
among other things. I take it introductions haven't been made?"
Robbins shook his head. "Jim Ellison, Blair Sandburg, this
is Dan Robbins."
"Ah." Robbins said. "That Jim."
It occurred to Carolyn then just what she
was interrupting. "Finding trouble again, Jimmy? How do
you manage to do that?"
Jim looked at Blair with a wry smile. "What
can I say, Carolyn? It's a gift."
A very young uniform chose that moment to
stick her head into the conference room. "Sir, Inspector
Binh just reported that two men meeting the description of the
buyers just left the cafe."
Robbins sighed. "All right, Kelly, tell
Binh to bring them in." It was going to be a long night.
"Hansen, return our guests' belongings. We need to talk,
gentlemen. It seems we have a bit of a problem."
The task force members gave Jim and Blair
a full briefing. Narcotics had been working for some time to
bring down the Three Dragons Gang. The gang now controlled the
better part of the peninsula's heroin trade and was trying to
expand their operations.
"The man you spoke with, Sandburg, is
Li Huang. He's the number two man in the gang. This man,"
Robbins passed over a photograph, "is Xian Zhou. He is the
head of Three Dragons. He's smart, ruthless and ambitious. Under
his leadership, the Dragons have progressed from protection and
gambling to narcotics, prostitution and murder. Unfortunately,
we haven't been able to tie Huang or Zhou to any of these crimes
directly."
Robbins went on to explain that tonight's
bust had been intended to bring in the potential new distributor.
An informant had given the police the time and location for the
preliminary meet, as well as the code phrase to recognize the
buyer, but evidently, even the Dragons had only a minimal physical
description -- which, unfortunately, was broad enough to fit
Blair.
The real buyer was identified as a former
UC Santa Cruz Literature professor with a fondness for Victorian
writers. His current occupation was a top-level dealer, looking
to expand his business beyond Santa Cruz. His bodyguard was a
none-too-bright bruiser with a short temper and a long rap sheet.
"Jeez, Jim, I'm insulted. I look nothing
like this guy."
"Well, he's short, he has a ponytail,
and he's wearing a UCSC sweatshirt."
"Yeah, but he's old and wrinkly!"
"It could be worse. I could look like
that bald, brainless, no-neck thug."
"Who says you don't?" Blair retorted,
recovering himself enough to razz Jim.
Blair and Jim more than willingly agreed to
help bring down the Dragons. With the addition of the information
from Blair's contact with Huang, Narcotics felt they could set
up a sting.
Blair had the date and time of the meet, and
the envelope had yielded an address -- 24 Mays Plaza, the location
of the new ballpark, currently under construction.
The plan was to send Blair in to the meet,
with Jim as his bodyguard. Blair would be wired and armored,
and there would be cops undercover all around the plaza. They
would move in as soon as the heroin was offered for sale, and
Jim was to get Blair out of the line of fire as quickly as possible.
Jim asked to speak with Blair privately for
a few minutes.
"I don't like it."
"It's a good plan, Jim, it'll work. But
if you don't trust it, just say the word, man, and we'll walk
away."
"Damn it, Chief, you know I can't do
that. If there's a chance we can get that garbage off the streets,
we have to take it. It's just... I hate putting you in danger."
"You'll have my back, Jim. There's nobody
I trust more."
"All right, then. Let's do it."
They agreed to meet back in the Narcotics
conference room Wednesday morning to go over all the details
before the meet.
"Thank you, both. I know it's a lot to
ask, but we really need to get these bastards off the street."
Robbins gestured to his officers. "We really appreciate
this."
Finally, several hours after leaving the conference,
Jim and Blair were given a ride back to the hotel in a squad
car. Once again, they straggled across the lobby to the elevators,
and Blair didn't even flinch from the view. When they got to
the room, they stripped out of their clothes and crawled into
bed. Jim snuggled up to Blair, and they fell asleep.
Across town, in a lovely old Victorian house,
Dan spooned up behind Carolyn. "He seems like a nice guy."
"Mmhmm. He is. And a hell of a cop. But
he was terrible at being a husband. We get along much better
since we divorced. We never should have gotten married."
"Why did you?"
"He was lonely, I was lonely, and I wanted
to be in love. We had a whirlwind courtship, and it didn't take
long to realize we'd both made a mistake."
Dan kissed her on her shoulder. "Which
is why you took so long to say yes."
"Oh, Dan." She turned so they were
face to face. "I guess I was a bit gun-shy at first. I wanted
to be certain, and I am. I love you, I love your kids, and I'm
very much looking forward to being your wife."
"I love you, too." He kissed her
on her forehead. "But enough talk about the ex," he
growled.
"What did you want to talk about."
"Who said I want to talk?'
A soft moan was her reply.
Jim woke to the odd sensation of having his
ear licked. He wasn't quite sure if he had dreamed it, or if
it was real, so he held very still and pretended he was still
asleep. There it was again, a stealthy but definite lick to his
ear. Lightning-fast, he seized the ear-licking perpetrator and
rolled them over so he was pinned beneath his body. "Sandburg,
what in the hell do you think you are doing?"
"Me?" Blair gazed up at him in mock
innocence. "I was just wondering if you were awake. Since
you are, let's go get breakfast. We never got around to dinner
last night, and I'm starving."
It figured. Blair's stomach was one of the
few things that could get him willingly out of bed before 9 a.m.
"Breakfast?" Jim growled. "Oh
yeah." Pinning Blair a bit more securely, he leaned down
and began to nibble Blair.
"Jim, man. Jim -- don't, that tickles!
Ji-i-i-m!"
Since Blair's 'protests' and wriggling 'escape
attempts' served only to place as much bare Blair skin against
as much bare Jim skin as possible, Jim continued to lick and
nibble his way down Blair's chest to his belly. As he worked
his way almost to his navel, Blair's protests turned to moans
of pleasure. Jim was totally focused on Blair -- his scent, the
wonderfully wanton sounds he was making, the salty taste of his
skin, the feel of him, under his hands and his lips -- when Blair's
stomach growled. Loudly and insistently.
The decidedly unromantic sound, coupled with
the very odd sensation of sound vibrations against his lips where
sound ought not to be, startled Jim, and he sat up abruptly.
Unfortunately, the movement placed him just a bit too close to
the side of the bed. With his feet still tangled in the covers,
he couldn't recover his balance, so despite a few desperate contortions,
Jim slid completely off the bed and onto the floor with a solid
thump.
The sudden loss of warmth and nibbles jerked
Blair out of his sensual haze. He looked around for Jim, only
to find him in a heap on the floor, still wrestling with the
bedclothes.
It was too much for Blair. Despite heroic
efforts on his part, a giggle escaped. It was followed by first
one chortle, then another. Finally, he gave in and laughed. He
laughed until tears ran from his eyes and his stomach muscles
cramped.
Jim was affronted at first, but he soon saw
the absurdity of the situation and joined in. At last, the laughter
subsided, and they just lay where they were, trying to catch
their breath. Blair's stomach growled once again, echoed by Jim's.
Blair succumbed to the giggles again, but Jim managed to stagger
to his feet.
"Now don't start that again," he
warned. "Come on, Laughing Boy. Let's go get some breakfast.
You're dangerous when you're hungry."
Tuesday proved to be far more interesting
for Jim and Blair. After breakfast, they attended the morning
sessions on Profiling. Active profilers with VICAP conducted
both meetings, and though the subject matter was often grim,
they were able to offer good information and insight into the
cases they spoke of.
Lunch turned out to be a fairly boisterous
affair, spent with a dozen cops from different areas of the country,
each trying to top the other's most outrageous case. Blair held
his own by sharing tips for the practical uses of a hotdog cart
in subduing right-wing militiamen.
Jim and Blair spent the afternoon listening
to Dr. Bass discuss Forensic Anthropology. The audience seemed
to consist mostly of forensics specialists. Jim expected to be
bored and out of place, but Dr. Bass was a clear and concise
speaker with a dry wit Jim found quite appealing.
Blair took copious notes. When Dr. Bass opened
the floor to questions, Blair asked several insightful ones,
triggering a wide-open, sometimes passionate discussion involving
the whole room. This took the session far over its allotted time.
Finally, over much protest from the group, a staff member had
to come in and chase them out so Dr. Bass could make his evening
flight.
Free of the day's obligations, Jim and Blair
reviewed their options and decided to play tourist. They took
the cable car to the stop near Fisherman's Wharf, and walked
along the waterfront arguing amicably over which overpriced tourist
trap to eat at, before deciding on a seafood place on Pier 39.
After dinner, they found a coffee stand. Jim
indulged himself with a mocha, while Blair had his usual latte.
As they sat and drank their coffee, Blair entertained Jim with
outrageous tribal studies of passersby, interspersed with real
commentary on modern urban culture.
"See those kids?" Blair asked, indicating
a group of five young men dressed in extremely baggy clothes,
pants hanging precariously off their hips. "They just completed
their coming of age ritual. It's obvious their tribal rituals
involve a lot of fasting."
Jim coughed as the sip of mocha he was taking
went down the wrong way. "Sandburg!"
Unrepentant, Blair chose another subject.
"She is clearly a great warrior." His subject was an
amazon in a Harley T-shirt. "Her tribe marks great achievements
on the warriors' skin. Judging by the number of skulls and knives
tattooed on her arms, she has had many kills."
Jim eyed the woman warily. "You know,
Chief, you may be right."
Blair laughed.
Jim pointed out a group of teenage girls,
dressed similarly in the latest style. "What are they, Priestesses
in training?"
"Nah. That is a courtship display."
"Pink and blue streaked hair is a courtship
display?"
"It is if you're are a fifteen year old
boy. Watch." They watched as the girls walked past the boys
in baggy clothes. The boys were posing and preening as the girls
passed by. The girls pretended not to notice the boys, but whispered
and giggled to each other as soon as they were safely past.
"It's kind of scary, Chief, but the weird
rituals you made up make more sense than the real ones."
When they finished, they headed back to the
trolley stop. As they walked, Jim nonchalantly reached out and
clasped Blair's hand. Blair glanced at Jim, then down at their
linked hands. "Making a statement there, Jim?"
Jim smiled slightly. "We're in San Francisco,
Chief. Where else can two men holding hands not attract attention?
It would be a shame not to take advantage of it."
Blair laughed. He tucked himself under Jim's
arm and wrapped his own around Jim's waist. He pointed out the
group of shockingly dressed "punks" on the corner with
the sign that read "Photo with a Freak -- $3" who were
attracting a lot of attention. "We could make out in the
middle of the sidewalk, and I don't think anyone would notice,"
he joked.
"Good idea." Jim pulled him around
into an embrace, and gave him a brief but thorough kiss, then
tucked him back under his arm.
"Jim," Blair said as he attempted
to un-muss himself, "What am I going to do with you?"
"Um, anything you want?"
Blair stopped, and looked at Jim consideringly.
"Anything?"
"Anything."
Blair smiled slowly, a wicked gleam in his
eyes. "Then we should bag this tourist stuff and get back
to the hotel."
Jim shivered in anticipation, and they hurried
off to catch their trolley.
"Anything" turned out to be a thorough
back massage, first therapeutic and then sensual. Their earlier
playful mood turned serious somewhere between Blair's clothes
hitting the floor and the first soft glide of Jim's palms across
his shoulder blades. They both knew tomorrow's sting operation
would be dangerous. All policework carried a risk, no matter
how carefully planned.
Blair felt the mood change, and he knew Jim
was thinking about what the next day would bring. Since he wanted
Jim to sleep tonight, he decided a distraction was in order.
Jim's hands had slowed to a kneading movement near his butt when
Blair chose an opportune moment to roll over onto his back and
gaze at his lover.
Jim knelt between his legs, still half dressed.
Blair smiled, stretching languidly. "Mmmm. Wonderful."
"You know I give good massages, Chief."
"I wasn't taking about massage."
Blair shifted around so he was leaning back on the pillows, propped
against the head of the bed, subtly displaying himself. He casually
ran one hand up and down his leg, drawing Jim's attention from
his face to his hand. Jim's eyes followed along his leg until
he fastened his gaze on Blair's erect cock. Blair's smile took
on a wicked edge as Jim licked his lips.
"You're wearing too many clothes."
Jim blinked and looked down at himself, surprised
to find he was still kneeling on the bed.
"Take them off." It was a command,
not a request. Jim found it very exciting when Blair was aggressive,
and his cock twitched as he moved to comply.
Jim climbed off the bed and stood next to
it without a word. Slowly he stripped, putting on a display of
his own. He ran his hand down his chest to the hem of his T-shirt
before pulling it off over his head. He paused slightly with
his arms over his head, knowing the pose emphasized his exquisitely
cut torso. He discarded the shirt and once again ran his hands
down his body, this time to the waistband of his boxers.
"Turn around." Blair's voice deepened
and took on the husky tones of desire.
Jim turned so his back was to Blair. Listening
carefully, he slid his hands under the waistband. He paused for
a moment when he heard Blair's breath hitch.
He eased the boxers down his legs and stepped
out of them, smiling when he heard Blair murmur "Ooh, yeah,"
under his breath. He turned to face Blair again.
Jim looked exotic and mysterious. The single
lamp near the bed cast a gentle light through the room, defining
his physique in golden highlights and soft shadows. His erect
cock jutted proudly out from its nest of soft curls. He lifted
his foot up and placed it on the edge of the bed as he reached
down to take his sock off.
"Stop," Blair commanded. There was
something incongruous about the combination of the magnificent
body and the white cotton socks that was so endearingly Jim,
that his heart gave an odd little flutter.
"Leave them on, I like it." He had
enjoyed the floorshow very much, but he wanted, needed something
different now. "Come here, please?"
Sensing the shift, Jim climbed up onto the
bed and into Blair's arms.
"I love you," Blair whispered. "Let
me show you." He maneuvered them around so their positions
were reversed, Jim lying against the pillows and Blair on his
knees between Jim's legs.
Blair wiggled back a bit. Starting just above
one sock-clad foot, he worshipped his way up Jim's body, tenderly
kissing and stroking his skin, as though Jim were precious and
fragile, until Jim couldn't stand it anymore and pulled Blair
up onto his chest.
He wrapped his arms around Blair and rolled
them onto their sides, holding Blair close for a few moments
while he regained some semblance of control.
"I love you, so much." He kissed
Blair gently. Blair returned the kiss, deepened it. They stroked
and caressed each other, tenderly kissing, gently rocking together.
It was sweet and gentle, this lovemaking,
as if each was trying to communicate to the other, by touch and
look, what words sometimes could not. Eventually, the pace of
their rocking increased, and they thrust in earnest. They climaxed
together, soft cries of pleasure lost in kisses.
They lay together in the afterglow, Blair
half draped across Jim, arms and legs intertwined.
"Thank you. That was beautiful."
"It was my pleasure, and you are beautiful."
"We're gonna fuse together like this."
"Mmmhmm."
"Easy for you to say, it's not your hair
that gets pulled out."
Blair untangled himself from Jim and headed
to the bathroom. He returned a few minutes later with a washcloth.
He quickly cleaned his sleepy lover, crawled into bed and snuggled
up with him. Sated and content, they fell asleep, each wrapped
in the safety of his lover's arms.
Part 2
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