This story was originally published in November, 2004, in the zine "Bonded 3" from DE Press.

Disclaimer: Pet Fly and Paramount own the copyright to The Sentinel and its characters. This piece of fan fiction was written solely for the love of the characters and to share freely with other fans. No profit is being made from the posting of this story.

Acknowledgments: To Mary and B my many thanks. I truly appreciate your time, talent and comments.

Rating: NC-17 for sexual situations; J/B, B/m (175 KB)

Warnings: Non-con bonding -- B/another sentinel; mild J/B non-con; brief separation of Jim and Blair.

Summary: Blair finds himself suddenly thrust into the world of sentinels and guides that he has studied for years -- not as a Doctor of Anthropology, but as a guide, considered by some the lowest form of life on the planet. He is chained naked in the Guide Market, on sale to the sentinel who can offer the most for his body and talents. After an exhausting and humiliating day, Fate smiles upon him in the guise of Sentinel Detective James Ellison. Everything seems to fall into place for the young guide, but where Blair is concerned, nothing can be taken for granted.

Comments welcome and appreciated!

Blair shivered in the cool morning air, his nipples puckering, his genitals pulling up into the warmth of his body. He stood naked in the marketplace, chained to a sturdy pole with his hands pulled high above his head, exposed and vulnerable. Never had he imagined this fate, coming as he did from the sheltered halls of academia. One day he had been teaching Anthropology to a group of bored freshman, the next the Wardens had snatched him from the steps of Hargrove Hall and put him through a battery of tests to determine his level of empathic ability. He hadn't found out who it was that had turned him in. Being labeled an empath and guide had effectively stripped Blair of his doctorate degree and professorship, and reduced him in status to the lowest of the low. His heart thudded in his chest, his breath coming in short gasps as he awaited the coming of the sentinels.

He didn't have long to wait. As dawn colored the sky in hues of bright orange and red, they came. The first to check him out was a large black man. The sentinel grinned toothily at Blair as he ran his huge hands roughly over the reluctant guide's body. Thick fingers twisted his nipples, making Blair bite his lower lip to remain silent. Attention quickly shifted to his genitals, as one hand cupped his scrotum, weighing him, before beginning a coarse stroking of his penis. The sentinel's foot kicked at Blair's ankles, making him spread his legs. A cry of surprised agony erupted from his throat as a finger brutally pushed its way into his body without the benefit of lubrication or stretching. The lash of a whip caught his back near his right kidney and Blair bit down on his lip to silence further outcries. He concentrated on the metallic taste of blood in his mouth as he endured the intimate invasion. The sentinel withdrew and shook his head; apparently he was not a suitable match. Blair allowed himself a silent sigh of relief and offered up a prayer of thanks.

As the sun rose higher in the sky, more sentinels came. Some checked him out, others walked on by. Finally, one clean-cut man approached. He walked around the shivering guide, examining him carefully from all sides. He groped Blair's genitals and finger-fucked him as the others had. He noted that the guide's back was crisscrossed with whip marks -- a sign that he was not yet well trained. He approached the vendor.

"What are you asking for this guide?" the sentinel inquired, gesturing back toward Blair.

"Fifteen hundred, sir," the vendor replied. "He is raw and only partially trained, so the price is lower, but his empathic rating is a ten-plus -- exceptional."

The sentinel nodded. "Good. I would like to put ten percent down," he said, getting out his checkbook. "I would like to continue to shop, but if I don't find anything more suitable, I will return for this one."

"Very well, sir," the vendor said, accepting the note after a thumbprint check revealed the man's credit record was good.

The sentinel nodded and saluted the vendor with a touch of his checkbook to his forehead as he headed off deeper into the market.

~*~*~*~

Jim Ellison approached the Guide Market with some trepidation. He didn't want a guide; he didn't want to be saddled with the responsibility, but his boss, Captain Simon Banks, had insisted. Until recently, Ellison had been a top-notch detective with the Major Crime Unit of the Cascade PD, but after a solitary stakeout his senses had come on-line, and he found himself hard-pressed to cope with them alone. The captain had assigned him desk duty, with the threat that Jim wouldn't be allowed back in the field until he found himself a guide.

The detective had taken the rest of the afternoon off, getting into his truck and heading for the marketplace. The Guide Market was located in an unsavory neighborhood filled with junkies and gangs. The vendors' stalls had from one to three offerings each -- men and women, naked and chained like animals. The sight disgusted Jim, even though he was well aware of the customs surrounding the ownership of a guide.

One bedraggled form caught his eye -- a young man, small of stature but firmly built, dark chestnut brown hair falling to his shoulders in loose ringlets; rich, full lips turned down in a pout; and stormy blue eyes, filled with both despair and a glint of hope. He wandered closer, giving the guide a good once-over by sight. He liked what he saw: a beautiful young man with a slender, well-endowed body.

"Don't worry." Jim spoke softly to the nervous guide as he reached out a hand to cup a cheek and brush his thumb across the slightly parted lips. "I won't hurt you."

He let his hand drift from the angelic face down across the guide's fur-covered chest and over the ribs. The man shifted slightly, biting down on his full lower lip to keep from making a sound. Jim smiled; the guide was ticklish. He was also slender, but not malnourished, Jim noted. While he could feel each rib clearly with his enhanced touch, they did not protrude.

His eyes drifted lower, to the flat abdomen and down to the heavy genitalia. Dropping to one knee, Jim brought himself to eye level with the guide's groin. He lifted the penis, noting to his dismay the scars from a stun gun marking the scrotum. The sight reminded him of his early days on the police force. The new cadets were given a tour of the Guide Training Facility. He remembered with stark clarity one recalcitrant guide who refused to follow orders. The Warden of the facility had administered a hundred thousand volts of electric current to the man's balls. Jim had watched the guide roll up in agony as his group was told that most guides only needed one or two shocks before they fell in line with the program. This one had the markings of at least five separate attacks, including one on the underside of his penis.

Jim shook his head as he stood, noting the fresh whiplashes across the man's back and hips. This guide had spirit; he was a fighter -- all plusses in Jim's book. He didn't want a broken and obedient servant; he wanted a partner.

He took a battered tube of water-soluble lubricant from his shirt pocket and squeezed some on the fingers of his right hand before approaching the guide again. He stepped in close; close enough to feel the heat radiating from the trembling body. He heard the hammering of the man's heart -- the guide knew what was coming, and he was afraid. On an impulse, Jim leaned in and captured the man's lips with his mouth. His tongue teased at the opening until the lips parted, allowing him entrance. He tasted the guide, savoring the heady flavor as he slipped his well-lubed finger into the man's ass.

The guide squirmed in Jim's embrace, obviously uncomfortable with the intimacy. Jim moved his probing finger until he felt the swell of the man's prostate and began a gentle, rubbing pressure. A quiet moan of surprise escaped the guide's lips, to be swallowed by Jim's hungry mouth. The sentinel was acutely aware of the growing column of flesh between them as his internal ministrations aroused the young man in his arms. With his free hand, he reached between them, grabbing the swollen and leaking cock; stroking it gently in time with the pressure he continued to exert internally.

~*~*~*~

Blair wasn't sure what to think as this new sentinel cupped his face and whispered reassurances. He held his breath as the light touch feathered its way across his chest and down his side. He couldn't help the involuntary flinch as the fingers tickled his ribs.

Then the man knelt in front of him, gently lifting his penis and examining his balls. Blair blushed with embarrassment. He had only been reduced to guide status a month ago, and public nudity, along with the accompanying groping, was extremely humiliating to him. He watched with trepidation as the man pulled a tube of lubricant from his pocket and stepped to within a hair's breadth of his naked body. His heart pounded in his chest, and he found it hard to draw a deep breath. To his surprise, the sentinel leaned in and kissed him. Not knowing how to react, Blair parted his lips and allowed the man entrance. He had never been kissed by a man before, and found the sensation to be oddly stimulating. He almost missed the moment that the slick finger parted his ass cheeks and slipped inside.

He squirmed, at once both uncomfortable and aroused with the intimacy. This man hadn't hurt him as the others had. While the physical exam was not much different in scope, it differed greatly in detail. This sentinel treated him like a human being. A shock of arousal coursed through his body as the sentinel touched something deep inside him. His cock jumped to attention, hard and leaking in under a minute's time. A moan escaped his throat before he could call it back, but there were no reprisals for the sound.

As a warm hand wrapped itself around his cock and began to stroke, Blair decided it was time to take some action of his own.

~*~*~*~

To his surprise, Jim felt a faint pressure against the barriers in his mind, as though the guide was trying to establish the bond. He relaxed, allowing the contact. Almost immediately, he felt his own cock spring to life, as his mind was flooded with the arousal and near climax of the guide -- his guide. Their kiss deepened, the man in his arms returning the gesture, his tongue invading Jim's mouth and sending the sentinel's mind reeling. Hot come splashed over Jim's hand, wetting both his shirt and the guide's chest. He felt his own body responding in kind, until the front of his slacks became saturated with his own semen.

Slowly he removed his finger from the guide's ass and backed away, giving the man another appraising look. Steady blue eyes stared back: claiming him, wanting him, pleading with him.

With a slight nod to the bound man, Jim looked around for the vendor. Eventually, he found the man behind his colorfully striped tent, taking a piss in the dirt.

"Excuse me," Jim interrupted, surprising the seller. "I would like to purchase your guide."

The man frowned at the sentinel. "I am very sorry," he explained, "but that guide has been spoken for; he is not for sale."

"Then why is he still on display?" Jim growled. He was angry that his day might have been wasted, and that the guide who had initiated a partial bonding with him might not belong to him after all.

"A man came by earlier and gave me ten percent to hold him," the vendor explained.

"How long ago?" asked Jim, looking around the market at the thinning crowd.

"Many hours."

"So, what are you asking?"

"Sir?"

"How much do you want for this guide?" Jim elucidated.

"Fifteen hundred, sir, but I have a down payment," the vendor insisted, showing Jim the check for one hundred and fifty dollars.

Jim reached into his pocket and pulled out a wad of bills. "I have five thousand here," he informed the man. "Cash. That's more than three times the asking price."

The vendor looked greedily at the bills waving in front of his face. Five thousand versus a possible fifteen hundred.... He was a businessman first, and this was too good of a deal to pass up. "Sold." He snatched the money from Jim's hand and went into his tent to begin the paperwork.

A half hour later the two men emerged from the tent and the vendor unlocked the cuffs that had held the guide to the post. He buckled a leather collar around the man's neck and handed the leash to the sentinel. "I hope he serves you well." He waved and smiled as the two men walked away.

~*~*~*~

It was with great relief that Jim finally reached his truck. He felt odd leading a naked man on a leash, and now they could both hide in the safety of his vehicle. Once they were inside and the doors closed, Jim reached over to unbuckle the collar, throwing it and the leash into the back seat. He rooted around behind the driver's seat, eventually snagging his prize -- a woolen blanket he kept in the truck for emergencies. He handed it to his new guide and, when the man just sat there doing nothing, wrapped it around his shoulders.

"What is your name?" Jim asked as he started the engine. When the guide didn't reply, he tried again. "It's okay. You can speak around me; I won't punish you. You do have a name, don't you?"

"Blair Sandburg." The guide gratefully tugged the blanket around him, covering his nakedness.

"Hi, Blair. My name is Jim Ellison," Jim introduced himself. He waited patiently for some response, pulling out into traffic and heading for Prospect Street. When nothing was forthcoming, he probed some more. "So, how long have you known you're a guide?"

"Six months; but I managed to hide it for five. A month ago someone noticed and turned my name in to the Guide Training Facility. The Wardens came and took me away..." Blair's voice trailed off, and he fell silent again.

"Is that all?" Jim was actually amazed. This man had to be at least twenty-five; for most guides, their Talent appeared at puberty. "It's okay. You can talk," he repeated when Blair remained quiet. "If you've only been a guide for a month, what did you do before that?"

"I was a professor of Anthropology at Rainier University," Blair replied, gaining his voice. "I taught a class on the sentinel/guide dynamic. I never thought I'd be living it." With that revelation, he fell silent again.

Jim sighed. "I know how you feel. My sentinel abilities just surfaced within the past month, too. I'm a detective with the police department, and my captain decided to chain me to a desk if I didn't find myself a guide."

"How can you possibly know how I feel?" snarled Blair, suddenly angry. "You get this great gift, and are 'chained' to a desk because of it. My gift, my curse, caused me to be dragged from the steps of Hargrove Hall, stripped, trained, and chained naked to a post in a public market! I go from Doctor of Anthropology to something less than the dust on your boots in the blink of an eye. How can you possibly understand how I feel?" He paused as the truck pulled into a parking space opposite a warehouse apartment complex at 852 Prospect. "I-Is this your home?" he asked, suddenly meek once more. He knew what was coming -- the establishing of the bond.

Jim got out of the truck and came around to the passenger side, opening the door. He helped Blair out, keeping an arm around his waist as the guide clung desperately to the blanket wrapped around him. He led Blair to the building, bundling him inside the old elevator and pushing the button for the third floor. When they arrived at apartment 307, Jim opened the door and ushered his new guide inside.

Blair walked in, pausing in the middle of the room to look around.

"Do you like it?" Jim asked, wondering if this man would ever feel comfortable speaking freely again.

Blair nodded. "Yeah, it's great, man." His gaze wandered up to the bedroom of the two-story loft.

"The bathroom is in here," Jim said, showing his guide the facilities. "I thought maybe you'd like a nice soak in the tub. You've had a hard day." Blair nodded, looking grateful. "One more thing," Jim said, stilling the guide with a touch to his shoulder. "This will be your room." He indicated a small room curtained off from the hall. "It used to be a storage area, but when I decided to go guide shopping, I cleaned it out." He held back the curtain for Blair to see.

Inside was a nicely appointed room filled with a futon that could double as a bed or a couch, a small desk with a lamp, and some bookshelves. There was even a closet at the far end. "I thought that maybe you'd like to decorate it yourself."

"This is... for me?" Blair looked wide-eyed at the small room. "But I thought... I mean, guides --"

"Yeah, I know," said Jim, pursing his lips and frowning. "But I don't ascribe to that shit. You didn't choose to be a guide any more than I chose to be a sentinel. So far as I'm concerned, we're partners. Now, why don't you go take that bath?"

Blair let his gaze drop to the floor. He was stunned; he never expected kindness in any form now that he was a guide. He walked into the bathroom, closing the door behind him, and began to run the water in the tub.

Jim smiled and shook his head. The kid was amazing; he didn't even seem to know his own worth. As a sentinel, Jim determined that he would treat his guide with as much dignity and respect as he could possibly get away with. With that thought in mind, he dialed the station.

"Captain Banks; what can I do for you?"

"Simon, it's Jim. Good news -- I found myself a guide."

"That is good news," Simon agreed. "All right; I'll put you down for the mandatory two week bonding leave. I don't expect to see either of you in this office for the full fourteen days. You hear me, Detective?"

"Yes, sir," Jim wholeheartedly agreed. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet," Simon warned. "I'm expecting you to return as a fully functional sentinel-guide team, ready to be put into the field."

Jim grinned to himself as he answered his boss. "You don't have to worry, Simon. I found a good match."

"Good luck then. See you in two weeks."

"Thanks, Simon. Good-bye." Jim hung up the phone and walked over to the bathroom door. After a slight hesitation, he pushed it open and walked over to the tub, kneeling down next to his guide.

Blair had filled the tub to the brim with warm water and now was nearly immersed; only his face floated above the surface, his eyes closed, his hair drifting in a fan around his head.

"Hey, Blair." Jim spoke softly, so as not to startle his new guide too much.

The body in the tub spasmed, the serene face sinking below the surface to come up again, choking and sputtering. "Gods, man! Don't do that!" Blair yelled when he could finally speak again.

"I'm sorry," Jim apologized, truly repentant. "I didn't mean to startle you."

"Well, you did!" Blair wiped the water from his face, focusing fiery blue eyes on the sentinel.

"I just wanted to let you know that my boss has given me two weeks' leave so that we can establish the bond and become a functional sentinel-guide pair," Jim explained.

"Great." Wringing the water from his hair, Blair reached for the shampoo. Jim's longer arm snatched the bottle before he could get a grip on it.

"Why don't you let me help?" Jim asked, pouring a dollop of shampoo into his palm and gently massaging it into Blair's scalp. "I really love your hair," he commented, letting his fingers comb through the soapy strands.

"You're not going to make me cut it?" Blair had been expecting the worst, especially from a sentinel who was also a cop.

Jim allowed a chuckle to escape. "Are you kidding? I could really get off on this hair." Blair made a face at that comment and fell silent, except for the increase in the pounding of his heart. "It's okay," he murmured. "You don't have to be afraid." The staccato rhythm of the guide's heart slowed minimally, but he still didn't speak. Jim let his soapy hands glide over the fresh whip marks on the otherwise smooth skin of Blair's back. The young man flinched slightly in pain, but allowed Jim to continue cleansing the wounds. "What were these for?"

"I talk too much," came the succinct answer.

"I see," Jim said, pursing his lips again at the evils done in the name of good. "Well, you aren't going to have to worry about that around me, do you understand? I want you to talk to me, at least when we're in the privacy of our own home. Out on the street, we're going to have to conform more to the socially accepted conventions, but not here. Got that?"

"Uh-huh," Blair replied.

"Okay; let's dunk you and get this shampoo rinsed out." Jim helped Blair lower himself back down in the tub, and worked to pour rinse water over the soapy scalp. Finally, all the shampoo was rinsed out and the water was filled with suds. "Maybe we should just drain this and let you finish with a shower," Jim suggested.

"I think I'm done," Blair said, exhaustion coloring his words. "I'm really beat." He started to get up, but slipped in the soap-scummed tub. Jim grabbed his arm and righted him, helping him out and wrapping him in a warm towel. "Thanks."

"No problem," Jim replied, getting another towel to wrap the dripping mane of hair. Once Blair was sufficiently dry, Jim wrapped the shivering man in his gray robe and ushered him out to the dining room table. "Hungry?"

"Are you kidding?" Blair almost laughed. "Do you think they bother to feed the 'animals' on display in the Guide Market? Fat chance of that."

Jim busied himself in the kitchen. "Do you like scrambled eggs? I could toss together an omelet."

"Sounds great," Blair agreed just as his stomach rumbled loudly. Both men chuckled as Blair patted his belly. "Sorry."

~*~*~*~

After a good meal, Jim cleared the table and then approached his new guide. "I think we have some business to attend to," he said, offering his hand to help the younger man stand.

Blair drew away, getting up on his own and keeping an eye on the sentinel. "You mean the bonding."

Jim nodded. "Might as well get it over with. We need to establish the link so that you can help control my senses on the job."

"C-can we try something first?" Blair asked timidly.

"Like what?"

Blair walked over to the couch and sat down, patting the cushion beside him. When Jim was seated next to him, he spoke. "The bond is an empathic linking of two minds -- the sentinel's and the guide's. Traditionally, the linking is established through sexual intercourse, but I've long held a theory that the bond could be established through relaxation and meditation."

"Are you trying to feed me some New Age crap?" Jim asked skeptically. "Because if you're just trying to get out of fucking --"

"No, no!" Blair hurriedly explained, patting Jim to calm him down. "It's not like that. Okay, well, maybe it is," he admitted reluctantly. "But I really do think that this could work! Think of the time it would save in the field. No time out to find a bonding suite, and you could keep on working!"

"What do I have to do?" Jim asked, willing to give anything a try if it would make his new guide more comfortable.

"Just lean back, relax, close your eyes," Blair instructed. "Yeah, yeah, that's good," he said as Jim complied with the suggestions. "Now try to empty your mind of extraneous thoughts. Concentrate your senses on me, try to open yourself to me mentally. Ready?" Jim nodded.

Blair leaned back against the cushions as well and began to concentrate on the man next to him, willing a meeting of their minds, a commencement of the bond. But try as he might, he could not budge the barriers the sentinel had in place. With a sigh, he finally gave up. "Guess that's one theory that isn't going to pan out," he said.

"I guess we'll have to do it the old-fashioned way, Professor," Jim said with a smile. Standing, he offered his hand once again. This time the reluctant guide took it and followed him up the stairs.

Blair looked around the sparsely decorated bedroom, his eyes finally falling on the large bed that took up the majority of the space. He swallowed the lump rising in his throat; his feet rooted to the floor at the top of the stairs.

Jim moved around the room, coming to stand in front of a chair that occupied one corner. He began to undress, folding his clothes and laying them on the chair. He looked over to the immobile figure of his guide, noting how the young man was staring at him with wide, fear-filled eyes. He finished stripping and then turned so that Blair could see the whole package. "What's the matter, Chief? Never seen a naked man before?"

"I-I-I n-never --" Blair sputtered, swallowing hard. "I've never slept with... I'm not gay --" He kept stumbling over his words.

Jim walked over to his guide and untied the belt that held the robe closed. He brushed the garment from Blair's shoulders and led him over to the bed. "So, you've never slept with a man before? Never had anal sex?" He sat down on the mattress, pulling his guide down beside him.

"At the T-Training Facility --" Blair swallowed and took a deep breath. "At the Training Facility, the sentinels there, they... they forced bonding on the new guides... to teach us how --" He ran out of breath, his heart hammering with fear.

"It's all right," Jim soothed, rubbing Blair's back with the palm of his hand, avoiding the whiplashes across the lower portion. "Take some deep breaths. There, that's good. Now, tell me -- did they force you to assume any particular position for this bonding?"

"Hands and knees -- like an animal!" Blair spat in disgust. "They'd bond with us, sever the link, and then have a different sentinel bond... over and over again."

"They're the animals," Jim told him. "Not all sentinels are like that, I promise you. But we do need to establish the mind link, and your meditation way didn't work-" Blair shifted uncomfortably, knowing he would have to endure the inevitable. "Why don't you lie down on your side, your back to me?" Jim suggested. "That way, you'll be putting minimal pressure on the whip lashes, and you won't be reminded so much of your training."

With a sigh, Blair crawled across the bed and lay down, his back to his sentinel. Jim approached, stroking a hand down his guide's arm soothingly. "For this to work, we're going to have to have unprotected sex," Jim explained. "The report from the Training Facility said you were clear of STDs, including HIV. I'm checked annually and my report just came back a couple weeks ago -- I'm clean. Are you okay with that?" Blair nodded. "Okay, then; you're going to have to try and relax. It hurts less if you can relax. I'm going to stretch you first; we'll take this slow." Jim reached for the lube, generously coating the fingers of his left hand. His index finger traced along the crack, probing gently for the entrance to Blair's body. When he finally brushed the tight pucker, he could feel the man next to him go rigid. "Shhh, Blair. It's going to be all right. I'll do my best not to hurt you, but we have to do this."

"I-I k-know," Blair stuttered, forcing his body to relax. "I-I'm sorry."

"God, don't be," Jim said fervently. "After what you've been put through, I'm surprised you aren't fighting me."

"Wouldn't do any good," Blair replied miserably. "Resistance only results in punishment, and the bonding still happens."

"I'll admit that we need to bond. We need to establish the pairing so that I can get back to work. But, Blair, I'd never punish you." Jim leaned down to pepper kisses across his guide's shoulder and neck, ending by latching on to the full lips and kissing Blair deeply. Once his guide was distracted, Jim gently pushed his lubed finger past the tense sphincter muscle, entering the tight channel of Blair's body.

Blair jerked convulsively at the invasion, but then concentrated on the kiss, allowing his body to relax. When he was almost comfortable, he felt the finger slide out, to be replaced by two.

"I'm going to do some stretching now," Jim explained. "This might be a little uncomfortable, but if you concentrate on relaxing, I promise you it will help."

"O-Okay...." Blair agreed, anxious to have the bonding over and done with, while at the same time dreading it and welcoming the delay.

Jim began to scissor his fingers in the passage, forcing the anus to open further. He eased Blair toward him, so that the young man was three quarters of the way to lying on his back, then leaned down to lick and tease a taut nipple. Blair gasped in surprise and tensed briefly before letting go in the pleasant sensations that radiated from his tit straight to his cock. His hips bucked, impaling him more deeply on Jim's fingers.

"Good, that's good, Babe," Jim whispered. "Now it's time to try the real thing -- are you ready?"

"I s-suppose," answered Blair, still nervous; knowing this was going to be a true and permanent bond for the rest of his life. As an anthropology student, he had made sentinels and guides his major topic of study, writing a dissertation on the role guides played in the bonding ritual and the lives of their sentinels. Only, he had never expected to be living through the very scenario he had so painstakingly researched. This wasn't academic; this wasn't scientific method; this wasn't some abstract exposition -- this was for real. He was a possession, owned by this sentinel, bonding to him, bound to him for life -- a life that would consist of an endless stream of sexual intercourse, whether or not he wanted it.

Jim could hear the hammering of his guide's heart. He hated doing this, hated forcing himself on a virtual virgin, a man who had known only rape, not love; a man who wanted nothing to do with him. But fate had saddled him with sentinel senses and if he wanted to continue to do his job, this was the price he had to pay. He was only sorry that another human being had to pay it, too. He withdrew his fingers and liberally coated his cock with the lube, then wiped his hand on the sheets. Lining himself up with the stretched opening, he pressed against it gently. Blair groaned and began to tremble. Jim wrapped his arms around the younger man and began to stroke and kiss him as he eased his way slowly inside.

"It's all right, just relax," Jim urged, pressing kisses against Blair's neck. He reached down to stroke his guide's softening cock as he pressed in further. Finally, his balls connected with Blair's ass and he found himself fully sheathed. "Are you all right?" he asked, concerned for the reluctant young man.

"I-I feel so f-full," Blair whispered.

"Uncomfortably?"

"A little."

"Let's just rest for a minute; give you some time to get used to it," Jim suggested.

"I don't feel the bond," Blair complained. "There's no connection. What's wrong? What am I doing wrong?" His voice was choked with tears; all this, for nothing?

"Oh, Baby, you're not doing anything wrong," Jim soothed, petting damp strands of hair out of his guide's eyes. "I have to be able to let my barriers down, and that only happens in the heat of full-blown sex. We're not there yet. It'll happen, you'll see."

"Y-You won't take me back to the market? Return me for a better guide?"

Jim continued to stroke the hardening penis, noting the silky texture of the skin, the heat of the blood pooling in the organ. "Better guide?" he asked, incredulously. "I already found the best one. There's nothing wrong with you, Blair. You're perfect; you're beautiful; I couldn't ask for someone I'd rather spend my life with -- you're it." He could smell the salty tang of tears that traced silently down his guide's cheeks and he rubbed at them with his thumb. "Think you're ready for some of that bonding stuff now?" Blair nodded mutely.

Jim withdrew slowly, pushing back in with more force. His hand pistoned on his guide's cock to the internal rhythms of his thrusts. He angled his hips to put pressure on Blair's prostate....

With a loud cry, Blair bucked beneath him and suddenly Jim's guide was inside his mind. Fear, anger, lust and love flooded him. He felt what Blair felt; the uncomfortable fullness that at the same time was driving him toward climax. Jim began to thrust faster, squeezing the cock in his hand almost to the point of pain.

~*~*~*~

Blair was lost in a maddening swirl of sensation: a pounding cock inside him, a hand stroking him, emotions -- lust, a driving need.... He gasped for breath, trying to control the roiling thoughts but was overwhelmed. He cried out for relief and was rewarded. The pressure against his cock was released and his climax swept through him with blinding speed.

~*~*~*~

Blair let out a ravaged cry and Jim let go of his cock, feeling the hot come spurt in an almost endless stream across his hand and onto his guide's chest. He felt the orgasm wash through him, as though it was his own and it spurred him to thrust harder. He was now pounding with brutal force; taking, claiming his guide for his own, forming the bond that would make them one mind, one soul.

/ he felt the warmth as his channel was filled with his sentinel's seed / his orgasm sweeping through him as he emptied himself into his guide / a feeling of contentment, the fear erased / completion /

They were a bonded pair.

Jim petted and stroked the man in his arms, covering every inch that he could reach with tender kisses. "That was great; you were great," he whispered in Blair's ear.

"I can't believe it." Blair's response was almost a sigh. "I can still feel you inside me, inside my mind. I thought it would feel like a violation, a breach of privacy, but all I feel is... love. It's incredible."

"God, yes!" Jim murmured, continuing to kiss and fondle his bondmate.

Blair rolled over, facing Jim, and reached up to rest a palm against Jim's cheek. "In the market, I wanted you. I needed you to choose me. I knew that we were meant for this -- together, you and me."

"I thought you didn't want to have to be a guide."

"I didn't, but if that was the hand fate was going to deal to me, I wanted you to be the one. I knew it the first time you touched me." Blair leaned in to press a chaste kiss against Jim's lips. "If anyone had to own me, I wanted it to be someone who could care for me. Someone I might come to care about."

"Do you think you can care about me?" Jim asked, wanting and needing the answer to be 'yes'.

"I already do." Blair smiled sweetly and cuddled against Jim's broad chest, closing his eyes.

Wrapping his arms around his guide and lover, Jim kissed the top of Blair's head before closing his own eyes, content.

~*~*~*~

By the time Blair was done with his shower the next morning, Jim already had breakfast started. The new guide wrapped himself in Jim's robe and walked cautiously into the kitchen, unsure of his welcome.

Jim smiled and waved the spatula he was using to flip pancakes. "Hungry?" Blair nodded, keeping his eyes fixed on Jim's. "Well, sit down, then." Jim brought in the plate of pancakes to set next to the bacon and toast, and then poured the orange juice. "Coffee?"

"Yeah, thanks," Blair replied, helping himself to the food.

Jim slipped into his own place at the table, piling pancakes on his plate. "I want to get something perfectly clear," he said after swallowing his first bites of breakfast. Pointing his fork in Blair's direction, he punctuated his next words with short jabs. "In this apartment, we're equals. We may have to play the game when we're out there," he waved toward the balcony doors, "but in here you have rights. You have the right to speak, to dress, and to eat at the table with me. I may have papers that say I own you, but you have just as much claim on me. We're bonded -- a team. We're each nothing without the other. Got it?"

"That's not the way it works," Blair said softly. "Don't forget, I made the study of sentinels and guides my doctoral thesis."

"Not this sentinel, you didn't," Jim argued. "And not this guide. I didn't ask to be a sentinel; I didn't want to be one, to own another human being. In this house, I make my own rules."

"And as your property, I follow them." Blair's voice was bitter.

"Not my property! You're not my property, you're my partner," insisted Jim. Changing the subject, he commented, "I was thinking that today we could go to your place and pick up some of your things."

Blair's eyebrows raised and he set his fork down. "Really? You mean that?"

"Yes, of course I do," said Jim softly. "This is your home now, and I want it to feel like one."

"Oh, man, that would be so great! Can we go after breakfast?"

"We can go right now, if you like," said Jim, smiling. He pushed his chair back and stood, heading for the stairs. "Come upstairs."

Blair wiped his mouth on his napkin and hurriedly followed. When he reached the top of the stairs, Jim already had some clothes laid out for him.

"These are a little small for me, but they'll most likely be too big on you," Jim said, sizing up his guide. "It's the best I can do, until we get you some things of your own."

Blair slipped out of the robe and quickly donned the boxer shorts and undershirt. He pulled on the jeans, rolling up the cuffs so that he wouldn't trip over them, finishing off with a blue plaid flannel shirt. "Thanks, these are great."

"Don't forget the socks and shoes," Jim said, putting out a pair of white socks and some battered old sneakers.

Blair hugged himself, rubbing his hands over the softness of the flannel. "You know, it's been nearly five weeks since the last time I wore any clothing, not counting your robe," he added quickly. "I never realized how much I took it for granted."

Uncomfortable with the intimate confession, Jim stood and slapped Blair on the shoulder. "We'd better get going." He led the way down the stairs and out to the truck. Following Blair's instructions, they arrived at the apartment complex twenty minutes later.

Blair knocked on the supervisor's door. When an older man opened it, Blair smiled innocently. "Hey, Matt. I locked myself out again. Can I borrow the master key?"

"Where you been for the last month?" Matt groused. "I heard they made you as a guide."

Blair let out a nervous laugh. "Do I look like a guide?" He spread his arms wide for inspection.

"Those don't look like your clothes," Matt astutely noted. "But, no... you'd be nekkid as the day you was born if you were a guide. Here you go." He handed a key to the young man.

"Thanks, Matt." Blair palmed the key and headed down the hall to room 143.

"How did you manage to score a ground floor apartment?" Jim wondered.

"One of the perks of a full professorship and tenure," Blair told him, unlocking the door and letting them in. "Welcome to my humble home."

Jim looked around. The apartment was cluttered with books and papers. A file cabinet stood in one corner of the main room, but it looked as though it rarely saw use. A laptop computer sat on the one clear spot on the dining table. "Looks to me like you need a maid," he commented dryly.

"I guess moving out will finally get the place clean," Blair agreed.

They spent the next several hours getting boxes from the truck and filling them with the possessions Blair most wanted to keep: his computer, his books and the artifacts he had collected during his short lifetime as a student of anthropology.

"Is that it?" Jim asked, looking around at the still-cluttered apartment.

"I just need to clean out my closet and dresser drawers," Blair said. "There's no reason to bother with the papers.... I'll never teach again." He sighed.

"You wait here," Jim said, pushing his tired guide down onto the couch. "I'll get your clothes." Ten minutes later, the last of Blair's possessions were packed. "Time to say good-bye, Chief."

Blair looked around the apartment, and at the boxes stacked by the door. "So this is what a lifetime is reduced to. Eight years of my life I devoted to college and getting my doctorate. Three years of teaching to earn my tenure, and now it's all packed into a few boxes." He struck the wall with his fist in despair. "It just isn't fair! I liked my life. I was doing fine, doing what I enjoyed, and now... this."

Jim gathered his guide into his arms, holding him close, letting him feel the warmth of love through their bond. "Sometimes life kicks us in the balls," he agreed. "But we just have to get up and stumble on."

"Nice imagery," Blair said, pushing away and letting a trembling smile curve his lips. "I guess maybe we ought to get this stuff out to the truck and turn in the key to Matt."

Once they finished loading the Ranger, Jim walked back to the supervisor's apartment to return the key and pay the last month's rent.

"Someone from the university will come to pick up the files," Blair told Matt. "The furniture and appliances are yours to keep."

"Good luck, Blair," Matt called out after the couple. "We'll miss you."

~*~*~*~

The drive home took them past the pier. The smell of hotdogs drew both men's attention.

"How about we stop and get something to eat before we go home?" Jim suggested, parking along the waterfront.

The two men got out and approached a Mr. Tube Steak vending cart. "Two with the works," Jim ordered.

"No onions on mine," Blair added quickly. In an aside to Jim he explained, "They give me gas."

Soon, sentinel and guide were strolling the boardwalk enjoying their impromptu lunch.

"You know, while we're out here, maybe we ought to try using your senses a little," Blair suggested. "There are a lot of things we could test them on." He looked around. "There. Over there, a florist's cart -- he pointed down the pier about fifty yards. "See if you can smell the roses. That's a scent you should easily be able to identify."

Jim paused and closed his eyes, concentrating. Blair instinctively kept in physical contact -- a hand on his sentinel's arm -- as the man worked his senses.

"Yes! Yeah, I can smell them," Jim said, opening his eyes and smiling.

"Great! Now, describe to me the furthest object that you can see."

Jim squinted against the sun down the length of the pier. "How about that silver Caddy at the end of the dock? License plate number 572-VXF."

Blair grabbed the sentinel's elbow and began dragging him toward the vehicle. When they finally reached it, he confirmed the plate. "Wow, man! Do you realize this car was at least three blocks away when you read the license plate?"

"I thought you made a study of sentinels and guides," Jim said warily, surprised at Blair's innocent delight in his senses.

"Yeah, I did, but most of that was through research. It's altogether different seeing a real, working sentinel up close. I think it's different, too, because I'm a part of this now. I'm your guide."

"You say that almost as though the idea appeals to you," Jim said with a knowing smirk.

"Well, this guide business isn't turning out to be quite so bad as I expected after all," Blair explained. "And I get to study and work with a real sentinel up close."

"And personal," Jim added with a glint in his eye.

"What about hearing?" Blair asked. "We haven't tried that, yet." He looked around, noting a couple of young, blonde students looking their way. "Over there, Jim! See if you can hear what they're saying."

"I'm not helping you troll for co-eds, short eyes," Jim growled. "You're mine, remember?"

"I'm not looking for a date, Jim. Come on, radar up." He nudged the reluctant sentinel until the man gave in and focused his hearing on the girls.

"He's cute."

"Would you date him?"

"I just might, if he asked. He's adorable."

"Well? What are they saying?" Blair urged.

"I think they're talking about you," Jim said. "The shorter one just called you a dork."

Blair frowned and looked at the girls, then back at Jim. "She did not!" he hissed. "What did she really say?"

"You don't need to know, Darwin, you're already spoken for. Let's go home." Jim began steering his guide back toward the truck.

~*~*~*~

Jim put down the box he'd carried up to the apartment and took the one from Blair's hands, setting it beside the first.

Blair turned toward the door, ready to get the next load, when he felt a firm grip on his arm. He looked at Jim in surprise, his expression turning to one of disbelief at the look on the sentinel's face.

Jim pushed him backward, clumsy hands trying to unbutton his shirt and finally giving up, popping the buttons in his effort to get the clothing off his guide. Blair felt the back of his legs bump up against the end of the couch as Jim reached for his undershirt, pulling it up over his head and tossing it onto the floor. His heart began to hammer as a shove sent him tumbling over the arm of the couch to fall onto the cushions. Jim began fumbling with the buckle on Blair's belt, eventually loosening it enough to tug off his jeans and boxers, his shoes also pulled off in the process. His socks were peeled off and suddenly Jim was looming over him, his pants around his knees, his erection hard and weeping.

"J-Jim? W-What are you doing? Jim?"

The sentinel's answer was a growl of claiming. He crawled onto the couch, lifting Blair's legs onto his shoulders as he positioned his cock at Blair's exposed anus.

Oh, God. In a blinding flash, events fell into place in Blair's mind: the testing of Jim's senses at the dock had triggered a primal bonding response. With time and training, the sentinel would learn to control his need, but this was all so new -- to both of them. Blair closed his eyes and tried his meditative breathing. He knew he had to try to relax; knew he had to let his sentinel claim him and reestablish the bond. He couldn't help the cry of pain as the large cock entered him, lubricated only with the leaking pre-come. Jim shoved in all the way in a single stroke, filling Blair until the young guide thought he would choke. Fingers digging into the cushions, Blair bit his lip to remain silent, enduring the painful pounding of his body.

/ Need, lust, claiming: my guide, mine / fear, pain, violation, despair: this is my sentinel, I am nothing / pressure building, thrusting, fucking -- a white-hot surge of climax / molten fire within him, a cry escaping bloodied lips / sorrow, regret: what have I done? / compassion, understanding: it's not your fault /

Jim looked into the precious face of his new guide, lip bloodied, eyes reflecting a swirl of emotions: fear, sadness and, ultimately, understanding. He reached out to stroke a cheek, brushing his thumb over the damaged lower lip. "Oh, God, what have I done? Blair? Are you all right?"

"I-I'll be fine." The voice was weak and trembled.

Jim withdrew, pulling himself out of the battered body, lowering Blair's legs onto the cushions and pulling the afghan off the back of the couch to cover his guide's nakedness. He was shaken by what had just occurred, appalled at his inability to control his actions. He pulled up his pants and came to sit next to his guide. "God, Blair, what was that? What happened?"

Blair clutched the blanket to his chest and looked up into the anguished eyes. "It wasn't your fault," he whispered hoarsely. "I used your senses at the pier. After a sentinel uses his heightened senses like that, he has to reestablish the bond with his guide."

"I raped you," Jim said, his voice hollow.

"No... no you didn't! It was nothing like that," Blair assured him. "There was no intent to harm or dominate -- you couldn't control the response -- but you'll learn," he added. "We'll learn together."

"I don't want to do that to you, ever again!" Jim whispered forcefully.

"I won't let you," Blair promised.

"C'mon... let me help you get a shower, get cleaned up," Jim suggested. "I'll bring up the rest of the boxes."

"That's okay," Blair said, struggling to sit up and finding that he was very sore. "I can help."

"No, you can't," Jim insisted. "I smell blood, I hurt you."

"I bit my lip."

"Not from your lip," the sentinel growled. "Go, wash up. I can't stand the smell of blood mixed with semen." He stood up and headed for the door. "Take care of yourself."

"Yes, sir," Blair mumbled, swinging his legs off the couch and clutching the afghan to him as he stood. The front door closed behind the departing sentinel as Blair shuffled over to the boxes they had brought up just a few minutes earlier. Inside them was a selection of his clothes from his old apartment. Grabbing some clean underwear, he headed for the bathroom.

Taking the enema kit from a shelf, Blair started the shower and stepped under the warm spray. He had learned the art of self-enemas at the Training Facility, where it was necessary to cleanse oneself after each training exercise. The douche was filled with a mild cleansing agent and an antibiotic. Blair watched the mixture of blood, semen and douche run down his legs to swirl around the drain. He repeated the procedure and then finished with his shower.

~*~*~*~

Jim smiled as he watched Blair bounce on the futon in the small bedroom. They had spent the rest of the afternoon and evening unpacking the boxes and settling Blair into his new room. The sentinel looked around at the eclectic mix of wall hangings and artifacts the anthropologist had collected, as well as the shelves of books on the subject, and came to a conclusion.

"You really love anthropology, don't you?"

"Are you kidding?" Blair chuckled. "I made it my life's work. I had sort of expected to grow old on some expedition, you know?"

"And now, this is all you have left." Jim let his arm sweep around the room.

"Well, yeah, but it's more than I ever expected to have after I became a guide."

"You deserve more."

Blair reached out and took Jim's arm, pulling him down onto the futon beside him. "That's the guilt talking, isn't it? You feel bad because you were forced to purchase a guide, another human being, and you feel bad because of what happened earlier today."

"I hurt you!" Jim hissed. "I promised to respect you and take care of you, and instead I violated your body and your trust."

"You really are new to this sentinel stuff, aren't you?" Blair said with a soft chuckle. "Every time a sentinel-guide pair uses the sentinel's heightened senses, there has to be a balance, a time to reconnect, to reestablish the bonding link. That's why you can find bonding suites everywhere: malls, schools, offices, even the PD. You were as much a victim this afternoon as you seem to think I was. I need to learn how to control you; that's my job, but I don't know how to do it very well yet."

"I should be able to control myself," Jim growled.

"Isn't that what this two weeks' leave is all about?" Blair asked. "A time for us to learn how to work together; for me to learn to control your senses and your bonding urges, for you to learn how to use the gift you were given?"

"Some gift. Because of it, you were dragged from a life you loved, had studied for years, to become the property of another man."

"You didn't pull me off the Hargrove Hall steps," Blair reminded him. "You didn't put me through the torture of the Training Facility or chain me naked in a public market."

"But I bought you. I have papers proving that I own you, that you're my property."

"And we can't change that," said Blair reasonably. "But you've already gone against social custom. You allow me to speak and dress, you've given me a room of my own, you care about my feelings, about my body. All my studies have shown exactly the same thing: guides have no rights, no citizenship. They are kept naked at all times, are not allowed to speak, are often fed off the floor, but never at their master's table, and they are fucked ruthlessly with no regard to their physical comfort or state of mind. That's not you, Jim. You're not that kind of man."

"But --"

"No more 'buts'. What happened today, happened. It's behind us and we're going to go on. We'll learn how to control this thing, how to make it work."

"I want to make it up to you," said Jim. "I won't feel right about it until I do."

"You don't have to do anything. I'm okay with it, really."

"Tomorrow," Jim promised. "Tonight, I think you ought to sleep here, in your own bed. I've had enough of bonding for one day." He stood up, then leaned down to press a kiss against Blair's temple. "Good night."

Blair watched the sentinel leave, feeling an acute sense of sadness and loss at the separation. He looked around his room at the colorful blankets, the pottery and dolls, the shelves of books, and his computer on the desk, radiating a soft blue glow as it beckoned to the anthropologist. Blair got up and shut it off, going back to the futon to turn down the covers. He stripped to his underwear and climbed into bed, wondering about the exceptional man that slept upstairs. A longing gripped him and his groin ached. He reached into his boxers, letting his fingers curl around his burgeoning shaft, and pretended that it was Jim making love to him.

Upstairs, Jim shifted slightly as the scent and muted sounds of his guide drifted up to him. Rolling onto his side, he ran his fingers over the empty expanse of the sheets beside him, wishing Blair were there to fill the void.

~*~*~*~

"Where are we going?" Blair asked, looking out the window of the Ford Ranger as Jim drove through the city.

"You haven't figured that out yet, Professor?" Jim grinned at his guide. He turned down a very familiar street and pulled into the guest parking lot of Rainier University. He set the brake and opened his door. "Are you coming?"

"Why are we here? I don't belong here anymore."

"The hell you don't!" Jim grumbled. "I'm going to need you when I go back to work, the sentinel thing is going to have to take precedence, but I want to give you back as much of your life as I can."

"Jim, I'm a non-entity, a guide. You don't think you're going to convince anyone to put me back on staff, do you?" Blair looked incredulously at his sentinel, wondering if the man had gone around the bend after yesterday's indiscretion.

"You don't know me very well yet," Jim told him. "I have more clout than you might think."

~*~*~*~

"I'm so sorry," Chancellor Edwards said with a scowl in Blair's direction. "We cannot allow a guide," the word was infused with contempt, "to teach our impressionable young students."

"Six weeks ago, this guide," Jim growled back, "was a respected Doctor of Anthropology and a tenured professor at this very august institution."

"That was then, this is now," Edwards said coldly. "I cannot allow one of them on my staff. And why isn't he naked and leashed?" She shivered with disgust.

"Because that's not the way I treat a fellow human being," Jim returned just as coldly. "Blair is a well-known scholar in the area of sentinels and guides, I would think his new status would make him uniquely qualified to lecture on the subject."

"Be that as it may," the chancellor said, "I cannot allow him on this campus, unless he comes in an official capacity as your guide."

"In that case, I guess I'm going to have to have a little talk with my father," Jim said with a sigh. He gave Blair a look that telegraphed 'she asked for it'.

"Your father?" Chancellor Edwards looked confused.

Jim pushed his chair back to stand, helping Blair up. As he headed for the door he turned. "Yes. William Ellison. You've heard of him?"

The chancellor went pale. "Please... please, Mr. Ellison, do sit down."

"Detective Ellison," Jim corrected her, coming back to his seat. Blair stood next to him, a hand resting comfortably on his sentinel's shoulder.

"Your father is responsible for a considerable endowment to this university," Edwards stated.

"And when he hears how you've treated his son, he's likely to withdraw his investment," Jim told her.

"What, exactly, is it that you want?" Chancellor Edwards was unhappy, but it was a fact of life: money talked, and the Ellison fortune would be sorely missed. She couldn't afford not to listen.

"Blair is my guide," Jim explained, "and as such, his duties to me and to the police department will always come first, but he loves anthropology and he loves teaching -- I want him to be able to do what he wants with his free time. I'm asking that his tenure be reinstated, and I want to see him in a classroom at the beginning of the next term. He can teach a night class after he spends the day on the job with me."

"Are you sure this is what he wants to do?" Edwards asked, hopeful that the guide might not really want to come back.

"Why don't you ask him?" Jim gave the chancellor a scathing look. "He's perfectly capable of speaking for himself."

"But... I... Guides... don't --" Edwards sputtered.

"What's the matter?" Jim asked, enjoying the chancellor's discomfiture. "Are you afraid that talking directly to a guide will contaminate you? Maybe his empathic abilities will rub off on you and you'll find yourself out on your naked ass. Is that what you're afraid of? Because if it is, I can assure you that Blair is not contagious."

"I-I --"

"Ask him," Jim growled.

The chancellor swallowed her pride and turned toward her former Anthropology professor. "W-Would you like to come back here to teach?"

"Yes, I would," answered Blair, smiling sweetly at the woman.

"There, that wasn't so hard now, was it?" Jim grinned, pleased at having bested another opponent.

"He can start the beginning of winter term," said Edwards.

Jim skewered her with a look. "Speak to Blair," he ordered.

Edwards looked between the sentinel and guide, beseeching the sentinel to be reasonable. When the man refused to back down, she turned to the man standing at his side. "You can start the beginning of winter term... if that's all right with you."

Blair pretended to think about it for a short while. "I'm going to be awfully busy breaking in my new sentinel," he said with a comradely grin at Jim, "but I think I can manage. Just one class, in the evening, is about all I'll be able to handle for now. I was thinking about lecturing on the dynamic of the sentinel-guide bond, with emphasis on how it's really the guide who holds the power."

Jim glanced up to see a mischievous grin play across his guide's mobile features. Blair was having as much fun yanking this woman's chain as he was.

"Then it's settled," Edwards agreed, anxious to get the pair out of her office. "We'll see you here the beginning of winter term."

"Yes, ma'am, I'll be here." Patting Jim on the shoulder, Blair turned to leave, making his way to the door ahead of his sentinel. Once outside, with the door closed behind them, he doubled over with laugher. "I didn't think I was going to be able to hold it together long enough to get out of there," he gasped, once he had stopped laughing.

"She's an uptight old biddy, isn't she?" Jim said, pleased that he'd done something to amuse his partner.

"Oh, that's not the half of it!" Blair guffawed. "I could tell you stories that would make the hair on your head curl."

Jim chuckled, wrapping an arm around Blair's shoulders. "Do tell, do tell --"

~*~*~*~

Their two weeks of bonding leave was nearly over; the sentinel and guide had made amazing progress in control of both Jim's senses and the bonding ritual. Blair had forsaken his room in favor of sleeping upstairs when he realized that his feelings for Jim had developed beyond what was expected in the intimacy of the empathic bond.

He was in love. And best of all, he was loved in return.

Jim stroked a hand across his cheek, leaning in to capture his eager lips. This was not the first time they had made love outside the sex of bonding, and Blair was certain it would not be their last.

As Jim stole his breath with the kiss, Blair aligned their bodies, moving his hips so that their erect cocks rubbed together, sending bolts of desire through their mental link, igniting their passion ever higher.

Jim pulled back slightly, gasping in life-giving oxygen, before sliding lower to tease Blair's nipples with his teeth. He bit down gently and his lover howled, arching his body into Jim's, seeking relief for his aching cock.

Kissing his way ever lower, Jim parted Blair's legs, lifting them onto his shoulders. His partner preferred this position, wanting to see Jim as they made love. But this time, Jim had other ideas. He pushed in closer, forcing Blair's legs higher onto his shoulders and lifting his butt off the mattress. Then he leaned in, gently letting his tongue trace a path from the underside of Blair's balls, across the perineum, to his anus. Jim's tongue circled the tight ring of muscle before pushing against it, demanding entrance.

Blair groaned, writhing at the intimate touch, his cock deep purple and leaking a steady stream of pre-come. Before their sex play had begun, Jim had insisted that Blair wear a cockring. The sentinel didn't want his guide climaxing early. Blair reached up to touch himself, wanting release, but Jim batted his hand away leaving his lover teetering on the precipice of orgasm.

Jim probed deeper with his tongue, tasting, taking what was his. Blair cried out, his scream echoing around the large room of the loft, but still Jim refused him relief. Finally, he lowered Blair's hips back to the mattress, kissing his way up the perspiration-coated body.

"Jim, oh Jim --" Blair's breathy voice caught in his throat as Jim moved further up his body. He reached up with both hands to clasp his lover's face, begging. "God, Jim... fuck me! Let me go, please!"

His lover bent down to kiss Blair, lingering over the full, red lips. "I have other plans for tonight, Babe. Tonight, I want you to fuck me." Jim slid off Blair's body and rolled onto his stomach. "I want you to take me from behind. Can you do that?"

"Jim, no!" Blair panted, wanting what was offered but knowing it was not his to take. "You're the sentinel, I'm the guide."

"This isn't a sentinel-guide thing," Jim explained, already so aroused at the thought that speaking was getting difficult. "It's a two lovers' thing." He reached over to Blair's cock and released the restricting ring. "The lube is on the nightstand. Please, Blair."

Shaking with desire and a modicum of fear, Blair got up on his hands and knees, reaching across the broad back of his lover to the lube lying on the nightstand beside the bed. His hands trembled, and he had trouble getting the lid off the tube. When he did, lube sprayed his hand coating him in slickness.

"I-I don't know how to do this," Blair stuttered, positioning himself behind Jim and staring at the lovely, rounded ass.

"Feel for my anus with your index finger," Jim panted, "and slip it inside. Move around a little, then add a second finger. You've felt me stretch you; you can do this."

Tentatively, Blair traced his finger down the crack of Jim's ass, causing the larger man to shudder with need. Pushing carefully, he was rewarded when his finger slipped easily inside. He wiggled it around, probing deeper until the full length of the digit was caught in the velvety passage. Jim yelped and jerked spasmodically, scaring his lover half to death. Blair quickly pulled out and leaned over the sentinel.

"Jim? Jim! Are you all right? What happened? What did I do wrong? Jim?"

"You found my prostate, for God's sake! Now, shut up and get on with it," Jim snapped. He realized the impact of his tone when his guide froze, unable to continue. He reached back as best he could and patted what he could reach of his lover. "It's okay, Sweetheart," he said more softly. "You didn't do anything wrong; you did something very right. The bed is kind of wet under me right now," he chuckled, "but I'm very relaxed. I think you can skip the rest of the stretching."

"You sure?" Blair asked. His own erection throbbed, and he wasn't certain how much longer he could hold off his climax without the aid of the cockring, but he was still shaken by Jim's reaction to the simple probing of one finger.

"I'm sure," Jim's voice was garbled. "Please, Blair, fuck me." He pulled his knees under him, lifting his ass in the air for easier entrance.

Blair pushed Jim's legs further apart, positioning himself between them, and lined up his cock with the hole. He coated his penis with the remains of the lube on his hand, beginning the gentle push inside. Jim opened to him easily, as though they had done this many times before, and Blair soon found himself sheathed in the tight, hot channel. He had to pause, afraid that he would lose it on his very first thrust and wanting this to be good for Jim as well as himself. Taking a deep breath, he pulled out slowly, then pushed back in, gradually picking up the speed and power of his thrusts until his whole world became his cock and the hot tunnel he was fucking.

/ Love, desire, need / mine; sentinel, guide / one mind, one heart, one soul / there is no yours or mine, only ours / I own you / I belong to you / you are mine / I am yours / bound forever / love, desire, completion /

Blair couldn't hold out any longer. His aching cock let go, filling the passage with his seed, filling both of their minds with thoughts and desires in a mad tumble of emotions. He collapsed over the back of his lover, his weight pushing Jim down into the mattress.

Jim floated on a cloud of ecstasy, his lover and guide a blanket of warmth, his body still filled with the softening cock, wanting this moment to last forever while knowing that it could not. Finally, he rolled gently, dislodging the dead weight on his back. Turning over, he looked at his thoroughly sated lover. Brushing wet strands of hair off Blair's face, he kissed his lover sweetly, but not too long, mindful that his guide was half asleep.

"You were incredible, Sweetheart. Thank you."

"Bonded," his guide murmured.

"Yes," Jim agreed. "We'll talk about it in the morning, okay?" He kissed both eyebrows as Blair let his eyes slide shut, too exhausted to argue.

~*~*~*~

"That was incredible!" Blair bounced around the kitchen helping Jim get breakfast ready. "And I don't mean just the sex. The sex was incredible, too, don't get me wrong," he rushed to say. "But I never thought we'd bond with me on top. I thought the sentinel had to fuck the guide for that to happen. This is incredible --"

"You keep saying that, Chief." Jim laughed indulgently.

"But it is! It's just incredible! I could write a whole paper on how position doesn't matter in the sentinel-guide bond!"

"And just how well do you think that little gem would go over?" Jim asked seriously, with a smile still curving his lips. "I doubt there are many other sentinels out there who would want their guides to fuck them, much less let it actually happen."

"But that's just the point!" Blair exclaimed, pouring himself another cup of coffee.

Jim put a hand on Blair's arm and pulled the mug out of his hand. "I think you've already had enough caffeine for this morning," he chuckled.

Blair whirled around, grabbing the plate of toast off the counter and carrying it to the table. "As I was saying," he continued, "it's one of those theories postulated but never confirmed because no sentinel in his right mind would let a lowly guide get his dick anywhere near the sentinel's ass. But we proved it last night! Sexual intercourse reinforces the bond. Period. Doesn't matter who fucks whom."

"I wouldn't go broadcasting that little bit of information," Jim cautioned. "For one thing, such heresy from a guide could get your tongue cut out -- I mean it!" he said when Blair gave him an incredulous look. "Sentinels aren't the most tolerant bunch. Besides, what happens in our bedroom should stay there. I've never heard of a sentinel-guide pair ever being lovers, either. It's not something we want to get out at the PD."

Blair sat down at the table, his full plate in front of him, and sighed. "I suppose you're right. But you have to admit, it was quite a discovery!"

"And a very pleasant one, at that," Jim agreed. "Now eat your breakfast. We've got one more day of leave before we have to go in tomorrow."

"Jim.... The guides at the station... are they naked?" Blair asked quietly.

Jim put down his fork and looked up at his partner. "Yeah," he replied softly. "They are."

"Are there very many sentinel-guide pairs? I mean, is everyone used to seeing them there?"

"Yeah." Jim nodded. "There are four pairings in Major Crime alone. Vice has two, Homicide five, Missing Persons has one. They're all over."

"O-Okay. I guess I feel better about that, then."

"I'm sorry, Chief," Jim said, sincerely regretful. "If there was any other way --"

"I know," Blair sighed. "It's just the way things are. They probably wouldn't even allow me in the station dressed and off the leash."

"Probably not." At that, Jim stopped talking. The couple finished their breakfast in an uneasy silence.

~*~*~*~

The following morning, Blair came out of the bathroom after his shower, wrapped in Jim's robe. His partner looked up from where he stood at the kitchen island, nibbling out of the frying pan.

"Are you hungry?" Jim asked, indicating the last of the scrambled eggs.

Blair shook his head, pulling the robe more tightly around him. "I don't have much of an appetite," he said softly.

"Well, then, maybe we'd better just get going," Jim suggested. "It's getting kind of late, anyway, and we'll still have to get you checked in before you can come up to Major Crime."

"Yeah, all right." Blair nodded nervously and followed Jim to the door. The sentinel opened it and ushered his guide through, before locking it and leading the way down the hall to the elevator.

The drive to the station was quiet; Blair was too nervous to sustain small talk. Jim pulled into the underground garage and parked as close to the elevator as he could. "This is it," he said, turning to his guide. "Are you ready?"

"Not really," mumbled Blair.

"I'm sorry, Chief, I really am," Jim apologized. "We're going to change the system, you and I, but to change it, first we have to conform." He picked up the leather collar from between the seats and buckled it loosely around Blair's neck. "Comfortable?"

"As comfortable as a dog collar can be," Blair groused, running a finger around the inside to check the fit.

"It's going to be fine, you'll see," Jim assured his nervous guide. He opened the driver's side door and got out, walking around to the passenger side. Blair had opened his door, but had not yet gotten out. When Jim approached, he slipped to the ground. "I hate doing this," Jim told Blair as he snapped the leash onto the collar. "It's demeaning, and you don't deserve it." He paused a beat. "It's time."

Blair froze, unable to move.

"Blair, Sweetheart, you have to take off the robe... or would you rather that I took it off?"

Looking around the garage to make sure they weren't being watched, Blair began untying the belt. "I'll do it." He slipped the robe off and stood naked in the chilly morning air of the garage.

"There are just a few things you're going to have to remember." Jim's voice was serious. "During this two week bonding period, I was supposed to be finishing your training. Here, at the station, you're going to have to act like a guide." Blair nodded his understanding. "First off, you never meet the eyes of anyone, unless I instruct you to do so. Keeping a close eye on your pedicure is the best way around that one. Second, you don't speak -- ever -- unless I give permission. Even if you're asked a direct question, you wait for me to answer or give you permission to answer. You may answer me when addressed directly, but never initiate a conversation. We can communicate through the bond."

"Won't using the bond mean we'll need to reinforce it sooner?" Blair asked.

"Yeah, but there are bonding suites on each floor of the PD. It shouldn't be a problem," Jim assured him. "Stay close to me. I'll shield you as much as I can. Don't touch anyone -- they're not allowed to touch you -- an empathic link might be formed, and that's forbidden except between one sentinel and his guide. Also, I'm not going to be able to call you by name, that's too familiar. Here, everyone else will refer to you as 'Ellison's guide'. I will call you by 'my guide', or just simply 'guide'. You will have to respond to that summons."

"I-I can do that," Blair stuttered, shivering.

"Oh, God, Blair, I'm so sorry! Let's get in the elevator." Jim herded his trembling guide toward the door. Once inside, he pressed the button for the second floor. "First, we have to stop by Personnel. You'll get checked in there and then we can go up to Major Crime."

The elevator stopped at the second floor and the doors slid open. Blair slipped behind Jim, totally embarrassed and humiliated by his nudity. Jim pressed the "close" button and turned to his guide. "I said I'd shield you as much as possible, but you have to walk beside me. Blair, Sweetheart, you don't have a thing to be embarrassed about. Your body is perfect. You're beautiful. I'm going to be the envy of every sentinel in the building and all the women. They'll all want to fuck you, but they know they can't -- they can't even touch -- because you're mine." He gathered his guide into his arms and kissed him -- chastely at first, but with more passion as his guide pressed desperately against him. Finally, he had to push away. "We have to get going; we've held up the elevator long enough."

When the door opened, several people were waiting to get on. Jim took hold of the leash and led his guide out of the elevator and across the hall to Personnel. Half a dozen pairs of eyes followed them.

Vera greeted the new team. "Welcome back, Detective Ellison. I see you brought your guide with you."

"I need to get him registered so that I can get back to work," Jim sighed, acting as though the process bored him.

"I'll get the paperwork started," Vera said. Stepping out from behind the counter, she indicated a door toward the back of the room. "If you'd bring the guide in here, the doctor on call will come to give him his examination."

When they were alone in the room, Blair looked up at his sentinel with fear sparkling in his eyes. "Examination?" he hissed quietly. "You didn't say anything about an examination."

Jim shrugged. "I didn't know." Both men became quiet as the knob on the door turned, and the doctor walked in.

"Well, Ellison! It's about time you found yourself a guide. Nice looking specimen. Had any problems with him you'd like to report?"

"Nothing, sir," Jim answered succinctly. "He's been a model guide so far."

"That's good to hear," the doctor said, nodding with approval. "Let's get this started, then, so that we can get you out of here."

The doctor began by examining Blair's scalp -- sectioning out the hair to look for any infestations. "Very good; no sign of lice or fleas." He shined a light in Blair's eyes, and then looked in both ears, up his nostrils and into his mouth. The exam continued as the doctor palpated the glands in Blair's neck, moving down to lift an arm and check the lymph nodes in each of the armpits. He pinched both nipples, checking for discharge, and ran his hands across Blair's chest and down his ribs. He examined the penis, again probing for discharge, before moving to cup the scrotum and squeeze each testicle. "There are several stun gun burns on his genitals," the doctor noted.

"He learned his lessons in the Training Facility the hard way," Jim explained. "But he's been fine since I acquired him."

"You do realize that the number of scars present means your guide might well be sterile. Would you like for me to take a sperm sample for testing?" Blair's eyebrows climbed into his hairline and he glanced nervously at Jim.

"That won't be necessary," Jim answered quickly, trying to save Blair from any more of the humiliating exam.

"Have him turn his back to me and bend over," the doctor ordered. Jim did as he asked, watching helplessly as the doctor spread Blair's legs and examined his anus, before snapping on a pair of rubber gloves and lubing one large finger, shoving it inside without warning. Blair let out a small gasp, and Jim could hear his labored breathing and rapidly pounding heart. The doctor probed deeper, rubbing against Blair's prostate as he completed the rectal exam. He peeled off the gloves and tossed them in the trash. He then pulled out his stethoscope to listen to the guide's heart and lungs. "He appears to be a healthy specimen." The doctor handed Jim a small plastic cup. "Would you please have him give us a urine sample for the lab?"

"Here? Now?" Jim asked, surprised.

"Do you have a problem with that, Detective?"

"No..." Jim mumbled. He wrapped his hand around Blair's semi-erect shaft, angling it down toward the cup he held in his other hand. "Pee for me, guide."

Blair chewed on his lower lip, trying to comply, but he'd never been forced to urinate in public before. This wasn't the same thing as the men's room at the university or a public office. Two men were waiting... watching, and one of them had his hand wrapped around Blair's penis.

The doctor shook his head. "Sometimes they have shy bladders," he commented. "It helps if you apply a little pressure." He reached over and pressed just above Blair's cock. The extra pressure on his bladder was enough to get him started, and he filled the cup. "Good. That's perfect," the doctor approved. "Now, Detective Ellison, what is your badge number?"

"Seven fourteen," Jim replied.

"I'll have Vera make up the brand, and I'll be right back. After that, you're free to head up to your office."

"Brand?" Blair squeaked when the doctor had left. "What does he mean about a brand? You didn't say anything about a brand."

"I thought if I did, you wouldn't come," Jim replied softly. "Guides go naked, so there's nowhere to clip an ID tag. The brand is about the size of a quarter, says 'Cascade Police Department' and has my badge number to identify you as my guide. Should you ever be lost, you can be returned to the proper office and sentinel."

"Haven't they ever heard of a tag on a chain; something I could wear around my neck?" Blair hissed.

"Too easily removed or lost," Jim explained. "Don't worry, it can't be all that bad."

"Easy for you to say!"

The conversation ended abruptly as Vera entered the room with the glowing brand. She put it down on a stainless steel tray and walked over to where Jim stood with his guide. She brushed the hair off Blair's left shoulder and swabbed the area with alcohol. "The doctor will be right with you."

The doctor returned a few minutes later from having signed the medical report, and picked up the brand. "You'll have to hold him for me," he instructed Jim. "I have to leave the brand in place for thirty seconds, and the guides tend to struggle."

Blair turned beseeching eyes on Jim, but found only cold determination there. His sentinel stepped behind him, wrapping one arm around his waist, pinning his right arm to his side, and gripping his left shoulder almost painfully. The doctor approached with the brand; Blair could feel its heat before it touched his skin. He cried out involuntarily as the hot steel pressed into his shoulder: burning, melting, scarring the skin beneath for an agonizing thirty seconds. Despite having just peed in a cup, Blair felt his bladder empty as he urinated on the floor -- one more humiliation to add to this dreadful day.

When the brand was removed, Blair almost collapsed in Jim's arms, his legs weak from the pain. The doctor applied a thick coating of burn ointment and handed Jim an ice pack to put over the wound.

"Keep the ice on the burn for fifteen minutes, off for fifteen, and back on until your guide can tolerate the pain," the doctor instructed. "That will be all. Just sign the papers on your way out, and you're free to go. Congratulations on your new guide, Detective."

Jim signed the papers and hustled Blair out of the office and down the hall to the men's room. He ushered his guide into a stall and locked the door behind them, lowering Blair onto the toilet seat. He knelt in front of his lover, pressing the ice pack against the ravaged shoulder. Blair opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Tears streaked down his cheeks at the betrayal and the pain. "Don't try to speak," Jim said, brushing the hair off of Blair's face and wiping at the tears with his thumb. "We're still in a public place, and there's no telling who might overhear us. I'm sorry, Babe; I'm sorry. I need you on the job, and this was the only way. I'm not giving you up; I'm not trading you in. You needed to do this so that you could stay with me. Do you understand that?" Blair lifted his head and nodded mutely, his eyes still glazed with pain. "Now we need to go up to Major Crime and introduce you around, and then I'll see if I can get Simon to give me some paperwork that I can do at home and we'll take you back and take care of the burn." He helped Blair to stand, and ushered him out of the men's room and back into the elevator.

~*~*~*~

As they walked through the doors of Major Crime, they were greeted by the deep, jovial voice of Joel Taggert. "Well, well... I see you finally took the plunge and got yourself a guide." The large black detective walked over and gave Jim a friendly slap on the back. "It's about time you got with the program. We need you back out on the street."

"Hey, Joel," Jim greeted his friend. "Yeah, Simon threatened me with desk duty for the rest of my career if I didn't go shopping."

"Fine looking specimen you have there," Detective Johnson said, wandering over to take a good look. His gaze came to rest on the thick penis hanging between the guide's legs. "He must be a hell of a good fuck. Makes me wish I was a sentinel." He chuckled again, shaking his head. "You guys have it made, you know. Obedient servants, a good lay, and they don't talk back. Too bad our wives can't be like that."

"Shut up, Johnson," Joel scolded, seeing the smoldering look in Ellison's eyes. "Don't listen to him, Jim. He doesn't know what he's talking about."

A small crowd had gathered around the new sentinel and guide. Blair shuffled closer to Jim, standing partly concealed by his larger partner.

"What the hell?" Sentinel Detective Donald Sheffield pushed his way through the crowd. "So it was you, Ellison! I should have known! That's my guide you have there!" He reached out and grabbed Blair's arm, pulling him out from his hiding place.

"Let go of my guide." Jim's voice was low and dangerous. Nobody touched another man's guide, especially not another sentinel.

"I put money down at the market on this one's sorry ass," Sheffield growled back. "The vendor never should have sold him. I have first claim."

"I said, let go of my guide," Jim repeated, clamping a steel-hard grip on the man's wrist. He applied pressure to the tendons until the other sentinel was forced to release his hold on Blair. "You should have bought him outright, then. The vendor indicated it had been hours since you put down your deposit. The market was near closing, and I made him an offer he couldn't refuse."

Sheffield twisted out of Jim's grasp and backed off two steps, rubbing his wrist. "I wanted to shop around some more," he explained. "I wanted to see if there was anything better before I put out my hard-earned money."

"Then you're more a fool than I thought you were," Jim spat in return. "You don't know a good thing when you see it. You never did."

Sheffield reached out again, this time for Blair's hair, and had his hand knocked away. "You're at least going to shear the little bastard, aren't you; clean him up a bit?"

"It's none of your damn business what I do with my guide." Jim reached out an arm to shepherd Blair behind him again. "If you want to challenge my right to this guide, I suggest we take this outside."

"Gentlemen --" The deep, booming voice held a note of threat. Simon Banks exited his office to see what all the commotion in the bullpen was about. "Sheffield, if you feel you have a legitimate claim to this guide, I suggest you file a petition with the Guide Vendors' Guild. Otherwise, I expect you to remain civil and respect Ellison's prerogative in this matter.

"Ellison, my office." The captain turned his back and strode into his private office, closing the door behind the sentinel-guide pair once they were inside. "Care to explain what that was all about?"

Jim shrugged. "I went to the market late. I found this guide and he seemed a good match. When I found the vendor, he told me another sentinel had put down a ten percent holding fee."

"Why didn't you respect that?"

"Well, you see, Simon... it's like this," Jim tried to explain. "As I was doing the physical exam on this guide -- before I knew he had a down payment on him -- we... uh, we connected."

"You 'connected'? What the hell does that mean?"

"Blair broke through my barriers and initiated the bond." Jim shrugged again.

"Wait a minute... Blair? You gave your guide a name? Jim, what the hell is going on -- and be straight with me."

"Captain, if I'm straight with you, then what I say can't leave this office," Jim replied. "Are you comfortable with that?"

"If I'm going to keep order among my subordinates, I at least need to know what's going on," Simon told him. "So long as it doesn't impact your job, anything you say here will remain between us."

"May I borrow your overcoat, sir?" Jim asked, pulling out a chair for himself.

"My overcoat?" Simon's eyebrows crawled up his forehead. "Yeah, sure; go ahead."

Jim took the overcoat off the rack and wrapped it around Blair's body. The guide gripped it tightly, pulling it around him to cover his nudity. When Jim sat down, he pulled Blair onto his lap. "It's like this, Simon," Jim said. "I never took to the idea of owning another human being, or of treating them like some sort of animal. It's why I put this off for so long." Simon nodded. He'd heard this song and dance from his detective many times in the past. "Blair did manage to initiate a weak bonding there in the market," Jim continued. "We hit it off well, so well that I wasn't willing to leave the market without him. I checked with the vendor and offered him five thousand -- over three times what he was asking or would have gotten from Sheffield. I can't be responsible for the fact he wasn't ethical enough to honor the pre-payment.

"I initiated a conversation with Blair; found out his name, his background. He's a doctor of anthropology, Simon! Before the Wardens dragged him off to the Guide Training Facility, he was a tenured professor at Rainier University!"

"That's all well and good, Jim, but there are hundreds of stories like that out there, if you could get the guides to talk about them," Simon reminded him.

Jim nodded. "I know that, sir, but that's just it. Most sentinels won't take the time to get to know their guides. They use them like a tool, like a hammer or a gun; they treat them like animals and justify rape as the bonding ritual. I couldn't do that. Blair and I --" He stopped to take a deep breath. "Blair and I are a couple. We love each other, and treat each other with respect. This is the first time Blair has had to go naked since I brought him home from the Guide Market. At home, he speaks freely. I even got him a part-time job back at the university starting winter term."

"You have got to be kidding me!" Simon looked at the slender guide on his detective's lap and then at Jim.

"I kid you not, sir," Jim said, perfectly straight faced. "And I don't plan on making him go naked when I'm on the job, either. I checked the books; there is no law written anywhere that says guides must be naked."

"But it's the way things are done, Jim," Simon sputtered. "It's the way it's always been, the way everyone accepts."

"Then it's time things change, don't you think?" Jim's stone cold stare would not be budged.

"It doesn't matter to me," said Simon with a shrug. "Dress him up as Little Bo Peep if you want, but you're the one who's going to have to deal with the fallout."

"Thank you, sir. Is that all?" Jim slipped Blair from his lap and stood.

"Yeah, yeah. Get out of here." Simon waved him off.

Jim paused at the door. "Just one more thing... Can I take some paperwork home to work on? They branded Blair down in Personnel this morning and the wound needs tending so that it won't get infected."

"That's a good idea," Simon agreed. "Best to keep you out of here until Sheffield calms down a bit. Jim...?" Ellison paused with his hand on the doorknob. "My overcoat, please?"

Reluctantly, Jim peeled the coat off his guide and led Blair by the leash out into the bullpen. Heading for his desk, he gathered several file folders to work on at home.

"You haven't heard the last of this from me." Sheffield's voice came from immediately behind Jim's guide. "I'll see to it that I get what's mine."

Jim spun on his fellow sentinel. "Don't threaten me, Sheffield. People who threaten me always live to regret it." He wrapped an arm around Blair and quickly headed across the hall to the elevator.

~*~*~*~

"God, I didn't think we'd ever get out of there!" Blair sighed, slipping back into Jim's robe and climbing into the truck. "I'm going to have nightmares about today for weeks."

"It's the last time, Sweetheart. The last time you're going to have to go naked in public," Jim swore. "I'm sorry about the brand; I should have told you."

Blair bristled. "Damn straight you should have told me, you sorry sonofabitch!" he swore. "But you're right," he said with a sigh, his anger cooling rapidly, "if I'd known, I probably wouldn't have come, and you did need to get back to work. It doesn't hurt so much anymore."

"Wait until we get home," Jim promised. "I'll take care of it for you."

~*~*~*~

"Go upstairs and lie down," Jim said as they walked into the loft. "I'm going to gather a few things and I'll meet you up there."

"It's okay, really," Blair protested. "You don't have to do anything for me."

"I want to. Now, get your ass up those stairs!" Jim swatted at his guide's behind to get the man moving. When he reached the bedroom ten minutes later, he found Blair naked and sprawled on the bed. He set down the bowl of water and his first aid supplies on the nightstand. "Let me take a look at that," he said, moving Blair's hand away from the raw and weeping burn.

Blair tried to scoot away, but Jim pulled him back. "Honestly, Jim, you don't need to touchhhh... ssssssss..." His words turned to an indrawn hiss of pain as his partner began to clean the wound.

"We don't want this to get infected," Jim said reasonably. "Now just hold still, this won't take long." He gently wiped away the ointment the doctor had put on the burn and washed it thoroughly with liquid antibiotics. He coated a gauze pad with fresh ointment and then laid it over the wound, using medical tape to hold it loosely in place. "One last thing. Here, hold this," he instructed, pressing a cold pack over the dressing. Blair obliged, and Jim took an Ace bandage, wrapping it over his guide's shoulder and across his chest and back to hold the compress in place. "There, that should do for now."

"Feels better," said Blair with a sigh, lying back against the pillows.

"I know how to make it feel even better." Jim crawled onto the bed and straddled the smaller man, leaning down to capture his mouth in a slow, loving kiss. Blair's right arm snaked up to wrap around Jim's neck, pulling him down for a more thorough exploration. Tongues battled briefly before Jim pulled away, trailing kisses along the square jaw to the long, slender neck. He suckled briefly on the prominent Adam's apple before moving behind an ear to nip and bite, leaving a love mark.

Blair groaned and tried to pull Jim back to his mouth, but his lover had other ideas. Slipping down the lean body, he stopped to tug at the exposed right nipple with his teeth, careful to avoid the sore left shoulder and the bandage that crossed his lover's chest. His guide began to squirm under the intense stimulation, his cock swelling to fullness. Jim's tongue continued to trace the arrow of hair to Blair's navel, dipping in for a taste. "Oh, God, Jim... just do it already!" Blair's needy cry echoed in the sentinel's ears.

Jim moved lower, spreading his lover's legs, licking and nipping at the tender skin of the inner thighs before stretching out on his stomach, his face buried in his guide's genitals. He took one testicle into his mouth, rolling it around on his tongue while Blair scrabbled hopelessly for a hold in the short hair on top of his head. He released the ball, sucking in its mate, giving the other testicle equal treatment.

The near constant moan from Blair was turning into a pained keening as Jim licked his way up the underside of the straining cock. By the time he reached the head, it was liberally coated with pre-come and tears of terminal arousal were streaming down Blair's cheeks. He took the cock into his mouth, sucking off the salty fluid. He could feel the veins pulse in the organ, the tempo quickening as his lover hurdled toward orgasm. He pulled back, so that only the flared head of the hard organ was still between his lips. He heard a sharp intake of breath and knew that his guide wasn't going to be able to hold out much longer. Taking a deep breath, he plunged down on the length of the cock, letting his teeth lightly scrape the sensitive tissue. With a cry loud enough to shake the rafters, Blair came, shooting his seed down Jim's throat in hot, endless pulses.

When it was finally over, Blair lay limp and sated, his body shining with a thin coat of perspiration. Jim slid up alongside his lover, kissing the parted lips, letting Blair taste himself in Jim's mouth. Then he propped himself up on an elbow, looked at the sleepy blue eyes of his guide, and smiled.

"You need to get undressed." Blair's voice was slurred. Clumsy fingers, made uncoordinated by his body's extreme lethargy, picked at the buttons on Jim's shirt.

Jim batted the hand away. "Not right now, Babe. You need to sleep." He got up and pulled the blankets over the cooling body. "You'll feel better when you wake up." Blair nodded, his eyes closing of their own accord. Jim stayed to monitor his heart rate and breathing until he was sure his guide was sleeping, then went downstairs to work on the reports he'd brought home and promised to Simon.

~*~*~*~

"Are you sure it's going to be okay?" Blair asked the next morning as he slipped a red Henley shirt over his head to complete his outfit of blue jeans and sneakers.

Jim shrugged. "I already told Simon how it was going to be. I told him I wanted you dressed on the job."

"It's not going to go over well in the bullpen," said Blair with a nervous edge to his voice.

Jim clamped a hand on his shoulder. "Not everyone is going to be scandalized by it," he assured his guide. "Only the closed-minded ones that don't like the idea of change."

"Like Sheffield?"

Jim scowled at the mention of the name. "You don't need to worry about him. If he has any beefs with you, he'll have to go through me. It's that simple."

As they headed for the door, Blair picked up the collar and leash that had been left on the table next to the basket for their mail and keys. "Leave it," Jim growled. "You're not some animal that has to be chained in order to stay around and do your job."

"What about speaking?" Blair asked a few minutes later as they climbed into Jim's truck. "You're letting me dress, should I speak freely, too?"

Jim thought about it for a moment. "Frankly, I don't mind your talking -- kind of like it, in fact. I think you should be free to speak your mind about a case or my senses when we're in the field on a job, but it might be prudent to keep to the 'speak only when spoken to' rule when we're in the bullpen or anytime we're in public and not actively working a case."

Blair nodded. "Makes sense to me. No need to rock the boat more than necessary -- at least for now." He turned a mischievous grin on his sentinel, indicating that he didn't expect the status quo to last forever.

The radio crackled to life as Jim started the engine. "Sounds of gunfire reported at 1015 Gavin Avenue."

Jim grabbed the mike and barked, "Show David one-five-two handling the call; and get me some backup."

"Roger, David one-five-two. Backup is on the way."

"Well, Chief," Jim said, turning to his guide, "looks like it's time to field test our partnership. Ready?"

Blair nodded enthusiastically. "You bet!"

They arrived on the scene ten minutes later. A body lay sprawled on the sidewalk at the base of a set of stairs leading up to a brownstone apartment. Uniformed officers were already on the scene interviewing possible witnesses. Jim approached the body, squatting down next to it for a closer look. A hand came to rest on his shoulder.

"Dial up sight," Blair instructed softly. "You should be able to find trace evidence nobody else could see -- hairs, fibers --"

"The stippling of gunpowder residue suggests the victim was shot from a distance of eighteen to twenty-four inches," Jim said, examining the bullet hole in the suit jacket. "Bruising indicates a struggle beforehand." He continued to scan the body, reaching into his pocket for a pair of tweezers and an evidence bag when he spotted a hair that didn't match the victim's color. "Looks like we have a red-head. Could be our perp."

"Good, good!" The guide praised his sentinel. "Now, any scents that don't belong: perfumes, tobacco, alcohol?"

"No, nothing." Jim shook his head.

"We should search the area around the body, too. Concentrate, Jim; scan for metallic objects, something bright that reflects the sunlight: a bullet or a casing." Blair looked around as well, but saw only a milling crowd held back by the uniformed officers on the scene.

Jim stood and used his sight to backtrack the victim's path. He found a shell casing from a twenty-two caliber weapon on the hardwood floor of the entrance hall. "Looks like he was shot here," Jim commented, noting minute traces of blood spatter on the floor and wall, "and stumbled out onto the porch and down the stairs."

"That would account for why nobody saw the actual shooting," Blair suggested.

Jim approached a uniform who was talking with a couple near the corner. "These people witnesses?"

"They're the ones that reported the gunshots," the officer explained. "They live in the neighborhood."

"We were just out, taking our morning stroll," the woman explained. "We heard the shots behind us. Alan called it in on his cell." She waved toward her husband who was still holding the mobile phone. "We turned and saw this gentleman stumble out onto the sidewalk. Another man left the apartment, running that way." She pointed north up the street to where Jim could see an alley and a possible escape route.

"Can you give us a description of the man running away?" Jim asked, taking out his notebook.

"Not very tall," the woman replied. "Maybe around five-eight or nine. He was wearing a tan trenchcoat and a baseball cap turned backwards. I'm sorry, that's all I noticed."

"That's good. Thank you very much." Jim turned away from the couple, steering Blair in the direction the perp had run. "Let's go take a walk."

Their examination of the alley yielded little in the way of evidence, but exercised Jim's senses to their limits. His shoulders slumped and he turned toward his guide. "We lost him, Chief," he said with a sigh. "Let's head back to the station. I'd like to get the evidence we have to Forensics as quickly as possible."

When they arrived at the station, Jim led Blair to the Forensics Department and introduced him to Serena.

"Nice to meet you, Blair." Serena smiled at Jim's guide. "You certainly don't look like any other guide I've seen around here."

"That's because I treat my guide more like a human being," Jim informed her curtly. "We need the results on this evidence as fast as you can get it to us. We don't have many leads at the moment."

Serena held the two evidence bags; one with the single red hair, the other with a shell casing. "Is Dan doing the autopsy?" she asked.

Jim nodded. "I told him to forward any physical evidence he finds directly to you."

"Okay, then; I'll do my best. I'll give you a call as soon as I know something." Serena turned her back and began the painstaking procedure of processing the evidence.

Jim and Blair returned to Major Crime, settling in to get the paperwork started on the case. It was hard for Jim to concentrate with his guide sitting so close. Blair's scent filled his nostrils until the sentinel had to seek relief. Continuing to hunt-and-peck with one hand on the keyboard, he let his other wander over to the body of his guide. He pulled Blair's shirt from where it had been neatly tucked into his jeans and let his hand slip underneath it to brush the springy chest hair and tease the hard nipples.

"Jiiiim..." Blair hissed, freezing in place as his sentinel felt him up in full view of the bullpen. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Trying to get this report finished so that we can go take care of business," came the curt reply. "Now I understand why sentinels keep their guides naked." Jim's hand dropped into Blair's lap, tugging down the zipper on his jeans and reaching in to pull his cock into full view. Blair squirmed in his seat, turning to try and block his exposure with his body. Jim began to stroke him gently as he continued to slowly fill in the form.

"I hear that you and your whore, here, were out on a case today," Sheffield commented, walking over to Jim's desk. "I thought that by now you'd be fucking his ass instead of just yanking his cock."

Blair blushed crimson at the words. His exposed penis was hard now, and leaking with arousal. He knew that he and Jim should be in the bonding suite, but his sentinel was stubborn enough to want to finish the report before reconnecting with his guide. Because of that, he was on display to anyone in the bullpen who cared to gawk, including Sheffield.

"It's none of your damn business what I do with my guide," Jim growled. My guide! Remember that."

"Not for long, if I can help it," Sheffield said with an enigmatic grin before turning and walking away.

"Oh God, Jim," Blair spoke softly enough that only his sentinel could hear. "I don't want to come here. Please take me to a bonding suite."

Jim turned, really looking at his guide for the first time since they'd entered the bullpen. Blair was flushed and perspiring, his cock a deep red. "Please, Jim?" his guide begged.

The need to reconnect was beginning to overwhelm the sentinel as well. Standing, he pulled Blair from his seat and dragged him out into the hall. The guide barely had time to tuck himself back into his pants before they arrived at a desk near the end of the corridor.

"I want a suite," Jim told the receptionist, his words clipped with need.

"Number three is available," the woman told him, handing him a key.

They walked around the desk and down a short hall to room three. It was the first time Blair had ever seen a bonding suite, and he looked around with curiosity. A queen-size bed took up most of the space in the room, which was appointed much like a moderately priced hotel room. End tables with lamps sat to either side of the bed with tubes of lubricant conveniently placed. To one side was a small bathroom, consisting of a single sink, a toilet and a shower large enough to accommodate two. A portable stereo on the end table closest to the wall played soft, classical music.

Jim stripped quickly and began pulling the clothes off his guide. The bonding went deep, deeper than either man had experienced before. Blair's mind was wide open, vulnerable, his whole life laid open like an epic novel to the hungry sentinel. Jim accepted it all as the gift that it was; a chance to know his guide in every possible way. When the bonding was complete, Blair was totally spent, falling asleep almost immediately. Jim got up and pulled the blankets over his guide's cooling body as he went into the bathroom for a shower. When he emerged, Blair was still snoring softly. He left a note on the nightstand, letting his guide know that he was back in Major Crime, finishing up his report.

~*~*~*~

Jim entered the bullpen and went straight to his desk, completing the report and then heading to Simon's office. He knocked gently on the glass.

"Come in! Oh, Jim, just the man I wanted to see," the captain greeted him. "Where's your guide?"

"He's still in the bonding suite, sleeping it off," Jim said with a smile.

"What I have to say concerns you both," said Simon. "Sit down; coffee?"

"No thank you," Jim declined. "Whatever you want to tell us, I can convey to Blair when he wakes up."

"There's a weekend conference in Seattle starting this Thursday through Sunday," Simon told him. "It's a gathering of sentinels and guides, with the emphasis on new pairings. There are seminars and training sessions that I thought you and Blair might find useful."

"That's very kind of you, Simon, but we're doing fine on our own," Jim protested. "We don't need to go to some conference to learn how to work together."

"I thought of it more as a way for the two of you to get away from Sheffield for a while," Simon said. "I've noticed how he keeps harassing you about Blair."

"I can handle him," Jim said. "I've got this new case --"

"I'm sending it on down to Homicide," Simon announced, shifting the report to the side of his desk. "I'm sure they'll appreciate the preliminary work you've done, but the case is not Major Crimes. You and your guide are going to Seattle; I've already registered you both."

"But, Simon --"

"No 'buts'. You're not getting out of this, Sentinel Detective Ellison, so just get used to the idea."

"When do we have to be there?" Jim asked, defeated.

"The conference starts at 4:00 p.m. Thursday and goes through noon on Sunday," Simon informed him. "You can drive down on Thursday morning. I even have a room registered in your name at the hotel. All you have to do is check in."

"Got all the bases covered, sir?"

"Yep, I think that about covers it all right," Simon said with a satisfied grin. "Dismissed, Detective. Go tend to your guide."

Jim pushed his chair back and stood, giving the Captain one last glance over his shoulder as he left. Simon sat at his desk chewing on the end of an unlit cigar as he read the report Jim had brought in. Closing the door behind him, Jim walked out of the bullpen and back to the bonding suite.

Inside, Blair was still sleeping, his face almost child-like in repose. Jim simply stood by the bed, admiring the beautiful features and wondering how someone so young could have come so far in life. At twenty-seven, his guide was a tenured Professor of Anthropology with a doctorate degree on his wall. He'd been to Nepal and Peru, to more exotic places than Jim had ever dreamed of going. He had spent three months living with the Kombai Tree people of Irian Jaya. His mother, one of the original hippies, had raised him alone. He didn't know his father. He had moved around a lot as a child, and was finally able to settle and call Cascade home when he started his career at Rainier University. When his empathic abilities began to manifest themselves six months ago, he panicked. He did his best to hide the fact, but his mind was strong and he had slipped up a number of times. When the Wardens came to claim him for the Training Facility, he wasn't particularly surprised; just disappointed that someone he had considered a friend had undoubtedly been the one to turn him in. All this Jim had learned in the brief minutes of intense bonding before their orgasms wiped all rational thoughts from their minds.

He sat on the edge of the bed and petted the soft mat of brown curls. Blair stirred and opened unfocused blue eyes. Blinking, Blair cleared his vision and smiled up at his sentinel.

"Hey, Jim. Why aren't you in bed?" Blair's voice was cottony with sleep.

"Because I had work that needed to be finished," Jim replied, bending down to kiss his lover. "How are you feeling?"

"Sleepy. Tired. Like I just ran a marathon or something."

"You did, in a manner of speaking," Jim told him. "Our bonding was rather... intense. You took me deeper than we'd been before. It left me refreshed, and you totally spent."

"Oh." Blair let his head drop back to his pillow, his eyes drooping shut. "Shows what I know about this bonding stuff, huh?"

"I might have a solution for that," Jim told his guide. "Simon signed us up for some sentinel-guide conference in Seattle this weekend. There are supposed to be panels and discussions, demonstrations and workshops... Maybe we can learn something."

"Yeah," Blair mumbled. "Good."

"Listen, Babe --" Jim gently ruffled Blair's hair, keeping his attention. "I'm going to go back to the office and see what paperwork I can get caught up with before we leave, okay? You stay here and rest until you feel better. I'll come pick you up when it's time to go home."

"'Kay."

"Sweet dreams." Jim got up and stood looking a few moments longer, wondering what twist of fate had granted him such a perfect man for his guide. He smiled softly at his sleeping bondmate before he turned to leave.

~*~*~*~

Jim set the suitcase down in front of the hotel room door and produced the key. Unlocking the door, he ushered his guide inside and looked around. Blair froze, his eyes fixed on a heavy gauge wire cage in one corner, near the bed.

"Aw, shit!" Jim swore, looking at the abomination. The cage was lined with a thin mat and contained a urinal, nothing more. He strode over to it purposefully, wrapping his fingers through the wire and giving it a tug. His intent was to throw the thing out into the hall, but it wouldn't budge. "Damn thing is bolted down. Come on, Blair," he said, steering his partner back out into the hall. "We're not staying in there."

"That was a guide cage." Blair's voice was flat as they walked toward the bank of elevators that would take them back down to the registration desk.

"I would assume so," Jim muttered. "Never seen one myself, as I've never had a guide before. But I've heard them described. There's no way in hell I'd make you sleep in that! And no way I'd make you stay in a room with that thing as a reminder of your status."

Blair rested a hand on Jim's arm and spoke softly. "I appreciate your consideration of my feelings," he said, "but you need to bring it down a notch or two. It won't do either of us any good if you go primal on the hotel staff."

Jim took a couple of deep, calming breaths before the elevator doors swished open on the lobby. With Blair still firmly attached to his arm, he approached the desk, slapping the card key on the marble surface. "I want another room."

"Was the room not satisfactory?" asked the concierge.

Jim fumed, struggling to keep his anger in check for Blair's sake. "It had a cage. I don't want any damn cage in my room!"

"Jim..." Blair's voice was a warning whisper as his fingers dug into his sentinel's arm with a little more pressure.

"I'm so sorry, sir," the concierge apologized. "We are hosting a sentinel-guide conference here this weekend, and many of the rooms have been so equipped for the convenience of our guests."

"For the convenience of your sentinel guests," Jim growled, feeling Blair's grip tighten in warning once more. "I just want a room without a cage. Can you do that?"

"Certainly, sir. Your name?"

"Jim Ellison, and this is Blair Sandburg, my partner."

The man typed quickly on his computer and read the screen, then looked up at the couple. "It says here that you're in town as registered participants in the conference. Where are your guides? All sentinels must have their guides in order to participate."

"Blair is my guide," Jim informed him curtly. The concierge looked from the sentinel to the fully dressed man standing next to him, and back. "Do you have a problem with that?" His voice was like ice.

"Uh, no, sir. Here is the key to your new room, number 4428. Just sign here, please." The man shoved a piece of paper at Jim and backed away, as though afraid of contaminating himself.

Jim signed quickly and grabbed the key, turning his back on the reception desk and dragging Blair back toward the elevators.

"Keep it together, Jim," Blair whispered. "Everything's going to be all right."

They reached the fourth floor and entered their new room. Two queen beds had replaced the one bed and a cage. Jim tossed the suitcase onto the spare and sat on the other bed, pulling Blair into his lap. "This is more like it." He smiled and kissed his guide, lying back on the mattress and bringing Blair with him. His hands roamed the broad shoulders and down Blair's back, pulling his guide's shirt up and over his head, tossing it on the floor. "Need you," he murmured, his kisses moving down Blair's neck to his shoulder.

In short order, both men were naked and aching with arousal. The long commute to the conference and subsequent problems with the room had driven both sentinel and guide into a bonding frenzy. Blair lay on his back, his knees bent and spread, his cock long and hard against his stomach, his body beckoning the sentinel.

Jim opened all his senses to their fullest, focusing only on his guide: his scent, the beat of his heart, the flush of his skin, the slightly salty taste of perspiration as he claimed what was his own. As his cock slid inside the tight channel of Blair's body, every nerve ending was on fire, shooting surges of arousal to his brain, opening his mind to the power of his guide.

/ I love you, mine / all of me is yours, given freely / as I am yours, forever / my sentinel, my love / my guide, my life /

The two men climaxed as one and settled into the comforting arms of sleep.

~*~*~*~

"Maybe we should go check what's on the schedule for this evening," Blair suggested over the dinner they'd had sent up from room service.

Jim shook his head. "There's nothing special the first night," he informed his guide. "Just introductory speeches and a reception for the participants. I think I'd rather just stay in the room and rest up, there's a lot on the agenda for tomorrow."

Blair nodded. "I'm all for that."

"Are you okay?" Jim asked suddenly. He could feel his guide's temperature spiking a degree. "You look flushed."

"I-I'm fine," Blair rushed to assure him. When Jim gave him the 'look', he confessed, "Maybe a little nauseated. I don't know... I think it might be nerves."

"There's nothing to be nervous about," Jim promised him. "You'll be with me all the time. I'll take care of you."

"The guides... they'll all be naked --"

"What did I tell you about that?" the sentinel sternly asked his guide. "Didn't I say you'd never have to go naked in public again?"

"Yeah, you did, but --"

"But what? You're my guide, they're my rules --"

The following morning, Friday:

"I'm sorry, sir, but we can't let you into the conference," the security guard informed Jim.

"Why the hell not? We're wearing our passes, we've paid to be here," the sentinel challenged.

"It's your guide, sir. He's wearing clothes."

"That he is," said Jim. "I checked, and there's no law anywhere in the state of Washington requiring guides to go naked."

"There may not be a state law, but this conference requires guides to be unclothed. It's a matter of security. We need to be able to tell at a glance the sentinels from the guides," the guard explained. "If a guide were to try an escape --"

"Blair isn't going to try an escape," Jim growled. "We're here to learn how to work better together. The state of our dress has nothing to do with that."

"I can't let you in," the guard insisted, "unless your guide undresses."

"Well then, I guess we'll leave, because my guide undressing isn't going to happen. Come on, Blair." Jim took Blair's arm and started to steer him back toward the elevator that would take them back to their room.

"Jim, no. Wait." Blair planted his feet and stood his ground. "The Department paid substantial money for us to be here, and I think there are some practical seminars here that could be very useful. I-I... I'm willing to go --" He stopped to swallow the lump in his throat. "I'm willing to strip, if that's what it takes to get in."

"No," Jim insisted. "I promised you'd never go naked in public again, and I meant it."

"And don't think that I don't appreciate it," Blair said, resting a hand on Jim's arm. "But this is my choice. I want to attend this conference. I want to learn what they can teach us. Sometimes we have to be flexible to make things happen. I can do this."

"Are you sure, Babe?" Jim asked, studying the resolute face beside him.

"Yeah. There's a men's room over there," said Blair, pointing across the hall.

Jim nodded tightly, coming to a decision. He steered his guide across the hall and into the men's room where Blair immediately began to remove and fold his clothing. Once completely undressed, he turned to see Jim removing the last of his clothes as well.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"If you have to go in naked, then I figure that I can, too."

"That's not the way it works," Blair reminded him. "They want the guides nude."

"That's too bad, isn't it?" Jim replied with a grin. "I want to make them think a little. C'mon, let's go."

"What the fuck?" The security guards stared in shock as the sentinel and guide both emerged from the men's room stark naked, their dicks swaying in time with their purposeful strides. "You can't go in there like that!" the chief security officer said, pointing at Jim.

"Why not?" Jim asked, projecting an innocent air and totally unabashed by his own nudity.

"B-Because, you can't!" the guard sputtered. "You're a sentinel! I should have you arrested for public indecency!"

"But you won't, will you? After all, you require the guides to go about like this." Jim nailed the men with a steely gaze. "As the registered owner of this guide, he's mine to do with as I please," he continued. "And I please to keep him on an equal footing with myself. Either we both go dressed, or we both go naked. Your choice."

"If you want into this conference, there's a third alternative," the guard reminded him. "It's our event and our hotel. Here, you follow our rules, or you don't participate."

Blair tugged at Jim's arm and whispered, "It's okay. You've made your point, Jim. Now let's go back and get you dressed so that we can get on with this." He started back to the men's room with the reluctant sentinel in tow.

"I don't like this," Jim fumed as he dressed. "I don't like breaking my promises, and I don't care for being made a fool."

"You did your best, and you made your point," Blair replied calmly. "Change takes time; it doesn't happen overnight. I'm doing this voluntarily, because I want to participate in this conference. Okay? My choice, my decision."

"I still don't like it," Jim mumbled, steering his guide back out to the lobby.

"I'm sorry," the chief security officer stopped them once more.

"What is it this time?" Jim growled, more than willing to walk away and not return, if not for Blair wanting this so badly.

"Your guide must be leashed at all times, unless a particular demonstration requires that he be freed. If you don't have a leash with you, we can provide one for you."

Jim opened his mouth, but felt Blair squeeze his arm, saw him looking up at his sentinel with desperate need. "We'll have to borrow one," he said softly, never breaking eye contact with his guide. The guard handed him a collar and leash, and Jim buckled the collar in place.

"Welcome to the conference," the guard said pleasantly once the guide was properly tethered. "Here's a program of all the seminars, demonstrations and panels for the weekend. Enjoy your stay."

"Fuck you," Jim muttered, startling the two guards as he led Blair past the security station.

~*~*~*~

"We have covered the basics of using your guide's empathic abilities to boost and sustain your enhanced senses," the speaker told the assembled sentinels. "Now it's time for those of you who wish, to put these ideas into practice." He indicated the large hall with a sweep of his hand. "Hidden somewhere in this room is a one ounce bag of marijuana. Using your guide to help project your senses, I want each of you to locate the drugs. When you think you know the location, write it down and hand the slip to me. At the end of ten minutes, we will stop, and I will announce the name of the successful teams. All right..." he pressed the button on his stopwatch, "go!"

Jim opened his mind to Blair, letting his guide become one with his senses. He started with smell, dialing the sense to the maximum to sniff out the distinctive odor. Abruptly, he realized that he was no longer in control of his senses. He heard, smelled, tasted, touched and saw things as though guided by remote control.

~*~*~*~

Blair plunged into Jim's mind with practiced ease, becoming like a single entity. As Jim began to focus his senses on the task, Blair suddenly smelled more acutely, saw things more clearly, heard the softest of sounds. The realization came like a bolt of lightning -- he was smelling, seeing, hearing with Jim's senses, not his own. Tentatively, he took control, dialing up his sense of smell until he could almost detect individual molecules of scent. The marijuana was strong and very distinctive. Once he had isolated the odor, he concentrated his sight, piggybacking his newfound vision on his sense of smell. The combined senses homed in almost immediately on one of the security personnel at the back of the room. His hand -- Jim's hand -- wrote the location and handed the paper to the moderator. Slowly, he backed his senses down, withdrawing from the intensity of the bond.

~*~*~*~

Jim snapped back to himself, realizing with sudden clarity that they not only had located the prize, but were also the first team to do so. Blair slumped in his arms, overcome by the power of their meld.

"Blair? Babe, please wake up." Jim patted a slack cheek, concerned that his guide wasn't responding. Uncaring of the test results, Jim scooped the limp body into his arms and headed back to their room.

He lay Blair on the bed and went to get a cool cloth to wipe his face. When he returned, tired blue eyes were gazing up at him, a smile curving the full lips. He sat on the mattress and wiped the cloth gently over Blair's forehead and down first one cheek and then the other. "Are you okay, Sweetheart? You had me a worried when you passed out in the lecture hall."

"Jus' a little tired," his guide slurred. "Wasn' that incred'ble?"

"Wasn't what incredible?" Jim asked, confused. He wiped the cool cloth across Blair's shoulders and down his chest until his guide's hand stopped him.

"I saw with your eyes, smelled with your nose... it was like we were one, and I was in control. I was able to guide my -- your -- sight by using our sense of smell... It was... transcendent! I never dreamed --" Blair sat up in bed, his energy returning as his excitement at their success grew. "Just think of how this could work on the job! We're a force to be reckoned with, working together!"

"Slow down there, Darwin," Jim said, pushing his guide back into the pillows. "We're not going to be using this technique at all if you keep passing out like this."

"We need to practice," Blair insisted. "I'll get stronger as I learn to control your senses. Do you think this is how all successful sentinel-guide pairs work?"

Jim shook his head. "Not to my knowledge. I've associated with pairings on the job for years, and no sentinel really thinks his guide is worth shit. There's no way another sentinel would let his guide take over like that."

"Why did you?" Blair asked softly, his eyes reflecting some of his doubt.

Jim leaned down to kiss the pouting lips. "Because I trust you, Babe. I trust you with my life."

Loving hands reached up and began unbuttoning Jim's shirt, pushing it off his shoulders before pulling him down. Thrusting his hips, Blair let it be known that he needed their bonding, was ready and willing. Jim quickly finished undressing and with infinite gentleness, reconnected with his guide.

Later that afternoon:

"Are you sure you want to go through with this again?" Jim asked. He had retrieved Blair's clothing from the men's room in the lobby while his guide slept, and was now perched on the end of the bed as Blair stepped out of the shower, toweling his hair.

"You bet!" came the enthusiastic response. "We've only been to one seminar, and already we have new material to work with. There's another one this afternoon that looks good. Something about reconnecting if the sentinel and guide become separated."

"Like that's going to happen when most sentinels keep their guides leashed," Jim grumbled.

Blair tossed the towel back into the bathroom and came to sit next to Jim, resting a hand on his thigh. "From what I've observed in my studies, most sentinels release their guides when they're working. Something about needing the freedom to stretch their senses, and keeping in contact with their guides through the bond instead of physical contact."

"So this is in case a crafty guide decides that's a good time to cut and run -- so that the sentinel can track him down."

"Does it matter what the reason is they're having this training exercise?" Blair asked. "We know how we'll use it, and that's what counts. You know, the Chinese have a belief that if you save a man's life, you become his blessed protector and it's your duty to do that for the rest of your life. When you bought me in the Guide Market, you saved my life, man. It's up to you to keep me safe from now on. This seminar could help."

Jim sighed and stood up, pulling open a drawer in the nightstand to remove the detested leash. "Then I suppose we'd better get going, they start in ten minutes." Blair stood still, waiting as his sentinel buckled on the collar. "Damn, I hate doing this to you," Jim muttered.

"I don't like it, either," Blair admitted, "but it's the price we pay for attending this conference."

"I'm going to have a few words with Simon when we get home," Jim swore. "I know he did this for our own good, but he isn't going to do anything like this again."

~*~*~*~

"A sentinel without his guide risks falling into a zone-out from which he may not be able to be retrieved," the speaker intoned. "In addition, the sentinel's senses are sharply reduced without the guide's empathy. That is particularly of interest to those of you in law enforcement or other fields where the peak functioning of your senses is key to your job. Therefore, this exercise will test your ability to track your guide, should you become separated. You will concentrate mainly on the senses of hearing and smell, working with care to locate your guide while avoiding the pitfall of zoning as you search. As always, this exercise will be monitored for your safety. Any sentinel who zones will be immediately reunited with his or her guide. Any questions?"

"I don't like this," Jim grumbled in Blair's ear. "I don't like the idea of being separated from you in this place."

Blair rested a hand on Jim's arm and whispered back, "You don't have to worry about me. They take good care of the guides here. Just find me quick." He gave Jim's arm a squeeze and winked at the anxious sentinel.

"Sentinels, you may now release your guides."

Jim unfastened the leash from Blair's collar and watched with unease as Blair joined the group of guides being herded from the room. "Be careful," he whispered, blessing his departing guide. Blair gave him one last, quick glance before he disappeared through the door.

"Now, ladies and gentlemen," Mr. Greene instructed the milling sentinels, "we will wait ten minutes for the guides to be sequestered and then you will be released. There will be awards to all who can locate their guides within fifteen minutes, thirty minutes and forty-five minutes. Any sentinel not reunited with his or her guide by the time an hour passes will be taken to where the guides are being held. Are there any questions?" He scanned the room, noting that the sentinels were all restless and anxious to leave. "Just a few more minutes."

One of the hotel pages entered the room and approached the speaker after glancing nervously at the crowd of sentinels. "Is there a Detective James Ellison here?" he asked.

Mr. Greene spoke into his microphone, quieting the growing hum of noise. "Detective James Ellison?" He looked around at the sea of faces, noting the handsome, but grim, face of the man who raised his hand.

"I'm Ellison," Jim called over the noise, pushing his way through the crowd to reach the front of the room.

"Detective Ellison?" the boy asked. "You have a call out at the courtesy desk, sir."

"Thank you," Jim replied, following the boy out. He reached the desk and took the phone from the concierge, nodding his thanks. "Ellison," he said into the receiver.

"Jim, it's Simon," his boss greeted him. "I've got some potentially bad news."

"Can it wait?" Jim asked, interrupting the captain. "I'm participating in a training exercise right now."

"That might explain why I couldn't get through to you earlier," Simon mused. "I figured you must have had your cell turned off, or the battery had run low. I've been trying to contact you for the past hour."

"Simon...." Jim's voice was tense. "What is it?"

"Donald Sheffield has dropped off the radar here," Simon explained. "I thought you might want to know."

"What do you mean, he's dropped off the radar?" Jim asked, suddenly worried. "You've got to find him."

"That's just it," Simon continued. "He went out on a routine assignment this morning; no one suspected a thing. But he didn't return, didn't call in, and nobody has been able to locate him or get in contact with him. His silver Taurus is missing from the garage."

"And you think he might be headed here?"

"It's a possibility we have to take into account," Simon agreed. "He wants Blair badly, and he's still pissed as hell at you."

"Thank you, Simon. I have to go. This exercise involves me being separated from Blair. With Sheffield on the loose, I want to keep a close eye on my guide. I'll call you later." With that, Jim abruptly hung up on his captain and turned back to the lecture hall where the other sentinels had already been released to find their guides. "Tell me where they're keeping the guides," he demanded of Greene.

"I'm sorry, Detective Ellison, but if I told you, that would defeat the purpose of this exercise," Greene said reasonably.

"Look," Jim said, grabbing the man's lapels in his fists. "I just got a call that my guide might be in danger. I don't have time for your games. Tell me!" He gave the man a shake that rattled Greene's glasses off his nose.

"I-I'll take you right there," Greene stuttered, sighing with relief as Jim released his hold.

~*~*~*~

Blair looked around the room at the nervous milling of the thirty or so guides. He smiled inwardly, trying to make light of the situation -- he couldn't remember the last time he'd been in a room with so many other naked men. He stood near a side door, doing his best to project his location to Jim. Now that he was here, he was anxious to leave and be reunited with his sentinel. He hadn't realized just how vulnerable being naked and alone would make him feel. He was so lost in thought that he didn't hear the door next to him open. A slight draft of cool air got his attention, but it was too late.

A steel-hard arm wrapped around his throat, nearly cutting off his air, and he felt the prick of a knife at his penis. "Don't say a word, if you want to keep your equipment," a voice hissed in his ear. "Come with me."

Before any of the other guides or their guards noticed, Blair was gone.

He was dragged out of the building into an alley behind the hotel. His abductor spun him around, pushing him face-first into a wall and cuffing his hands behind him. A leash was attached to his collar before he was turned again, his back to the wall.

Sheffield used his body to hold Blair in place as he pried the guide's mouth open and made a shallow slice across Blair's tongue. "Not a word out of you," he growled. "Not one single syllable, or you lose your tongue. Understand?" Blair's eyes flashed anger, but he nodded. "Good." The detective began to drag Blair over to where his Taurus was parked, just a few yards away. "Ellison spoiled you rotten," Sheffield continued, "but I'm going to teach you how to be a proper guide." He shoved Blair into the passenger seat, fastening the leash to a special bolt in the roof of the car designed to keep guides restrained. He fastened the safety belt across Blair's shoulder and lap, uncaring of the guide's discomfort from having his hands bound behind him. Finally, he slipped into the driver's seat, closed and locked all the doors, and then pulled out a thermos. "Drink," he commanded, holding the container to Blair's lips.

Blair shook his head, keeping his mouth closed. He didn't want anything from this man, and feared being drugged.

Sheffield reached over with some disgust, pricking the corner of Blair's mouth with the knife. "You'll drink when I tell you to drink, eat when I tell you to eat, sleep when I tell you to sleep, and fuck when I tell you to fuck. Understand? Now, drink!"

Blair felt a thumb prying his mouth open, and bit down on the offending digit. Sheffield let out a cry, but retaliated quickly. Blair felt the prick of the knife threatening his genitals once more and opened his mouth, allowing his captor to pour the drink down his throat. He quickly began to feel a little woozy, his mind unclear and unfocused.

"That's a good boy," Sheffield said, patting Blair's thigh. "That drug is a psi-suppressor -- it dampens your empathic ability so that Ellison won't be able to track you." He started the car and pulled out onto the road, quickly finding the freeway entrance ramp and heading south down Interstate 5.

~*~*~*~

Senses wide open, Jim burst into the room where the guides were being kept, scattering the timid men in every direction as he scanned for any sign of Blair. His guide was nowhere to be sensed. A slight movement of air brought his attention to the side door, which had not shut completely. Exiting the room, Jim dialed up his sense of smell. The acrid tang of urine caught his nose, overlaid by the familiar scent of his lover. He followed the faint trail to a wall behind the building in an alley. Traces of skin cells could be seen in the rough surface, tinged with perspiration and blood, all smelling of his guide. He banged the wall with his fist -- the trail ended here. Faint tire tracks marked where the Taurus had been parked, but there was no sign of the vehicle or its passengers.

~*~*~*~

Sheffield continued down the freeway, doing 70 miles per hour in the middle lane of traffic. He reached over to rest a hand on Blair's thigh, stroking the smooth skin. His fingers toyed with the flaccid penis, wrapping around the organ and petting it with his thumb. He rubbed his thumb across the glans, teasing the slit and tiny hole with his nail. The guide had lolled his head against the passenger side door and closed his eyes, but Sheffield knew the man was awake.

"You're mine now, like you always should have been," he told Blair. "Ellison had no right to buy you out from under me when I'd already put money down on your sorry ass." He began to pull a bit more insistently on the organ as Blair's cock swelled to life under the persistent ministrations of his abductor. "That's right, guide; come for me, baby."

Blair began to squirm, unhappy with the reactions of his body. He didn't want to get hard for this man, he didn't want an orgasm from him. He only wanted for Jim to find him, for Jim to hold him and tell him that this nightmare was nothing more than that: a bad dream. He prayed to wake up in their shared bed to find Jim's hand wrapped around his sated cock.

Sheffield laughed as his captive guide moaned and shot come in pulsing spurts. He lifted his hand to his mouth and licked the semen from it, nodding with approval.

They drove in silence for nearly ninety minutes, stopping in the city of Chehalis to find a rent-a-car. Giving a false name and ID, Sheffield rented a red Jeep equipped for sentinels and guides, and manhandled Blair into it. Once they were on the road again, the detective turned to smile at his guide. "That will throw them off the scent," he chuckled. "Ellison will be looking for my old Ford, not this new Jeep." He patted Blair's thigh and got an angry glare in return. "Just another hour, hour-and-a-half, and we'll be in Oregon, safe and sound."

~*~*~*~

"There's no sign of him, Simon," Jim sighed facing his captain who had driven down from Cascade to help his lead detective search for his missing guide.

"I put out an APB on the vehicle," Simon said. "What do you want to do in the meantime?"

"I want to go find my guide!" Jim fumed, angry at the helpless feeling that had come over him with the severing of his mental link. "That bastard must have drugged Blair. I can't sense him anymore."

"Maybe he's just out of range," Simon suggested. The captain never had quite figured out the dynamics behind the sentinel-guide bond, despite working with a number of sentinel-guide pairs over the past several years.

"He could be on the other side of the world, and he wouldn't be out of range," Jim insisted. "Something happened to sever our bond. Sheffield wants to make Blair his own, so he had to destroy Blair's link to me first."

"So tell me what you want to do."

"I want to go looking... now."

~*~*~*~

Sheffield pulled into the parking lot of a seedy motel on the fringes of Portland and parked the Jeep. He tested the leash to make sure that Blair couldn't escape, and then went inside to register for a room. "I need a sentinel suite," he said, pulling out his wallet.

"I'm sorry, sir, we don't have special suites, but I can have a guide cage put in your room for an extra five dollars a night," the manager said. Sheffield scowled, but agreed. "And how many nights will be you staying?"

"I'm not certain," Sheffield hedged. "Put me down for a week."

They finished the checking in process, and the man handed Sheffield a key. "Your room is around back, on the far end," he said, indicating the position of the room on a map. "Room 134. I'll have the guide cage brought as soon as possible."

"Thank you." Sheffield grabbed the key and beat a hasty retreat from the lobby out to where his guide waited in the Jeep. He slipped behind the wheel and put the car in gear, driving around the building to a secluded corner. "Here we go," he said, slipping from the vehicle and coming over to free his guide.

He opened the door to the room, and shoved his guide inside. Blair stumbled in, coming to rest against the bed. Sheffield closed the door and picked up the remote for the television. Turning the set on, he flipped through the channels until he found a sitcom to his liking. Sitting on the end of the bed, he patted the mattress beside him. "Come, sit down," he commanded his guide.

Blair approached the man cautiously, more afraid of Sheffield now that they were settled in a motel room, than he had been while they were in the relative safety of the car. He sat beside his captor, flinching slightly when a hand came to rest on his thigh, long fingers brushing against his penis. They sat that way, quietly, for several minutes, until a knock on the door interrupted them.

Sheffield got up to answer the summons. Outside, the manager stood with a heavy wire cage at his side. "You have a small guide," he began, "so he ought to fit. If you have any problems, just give me a ring at the front desk, and I'll bring you a bigger one." He turned to go, then looked over his shoulder. "Bigger ones go for $7.50 a night," he added.

"Thank you, this will be fine," said Sheffield, dragging the cage into the room before closing and bolting the door. Blair watched with apprehension as his abductor shoved the wire prison between the bed and the wall. Wiping his hands against his slacks, the detective turned lust-filled eyes on his guide. "Now it's time to make you mine," he said, approaching the young man. Grabbing Blair by the arm, he dragged the guide off the bed and shoved him to the floor. "On your knees!"

Still intoxicated by the psi-suppressing drug, Blair meekly followed orders, kneeling on the filthy carpet in the middle of the crowded room.

Sheffield released the cuffs that had bound Blair's hands for over three hours, allowing the guide to rest some of his weight on his hands, and then unbuckled his belt and opened his pants, sliding the slacks down only far enough to comfortably clear his genitals. It would have been unseemly for a sentinel claiming his guide to undress more than was needed for the act. Clothes were a status symbol that no guide should ever know. Ellison was crazy to dress his guide, and now it was up to Sentinel Detective Sheffield to reeducate the poorly trained creature.

He knelt behind the guide, between Blair's spread legs. The rosy pucker in the center of the cleft of his guide's ass beckoned him. Sheffield pressed his hungry cock against the opening and entered with one hard thrust.

The motion sent Blair's head to the floor as his arms collapsed beneath him, leaving his ass in the air, supported by the sentinel's strong hands. A mewling cry escaped before Blair could call it back and he bit his lip in an effort to remain quiet while his body was being ravaged. He felt the press of the sentinel's mind against his, but was vaguely aware that a bonding couldn't succeed while the drug still flowed in his veins.

After what seemed an eternity of torture, Blair felt his insides fill with a molten fire as Sheffield made one final thrust, burying himself so deep that the guide felt as though the come had spilled from his throat, burning his mouth.

Sheffield withdrew, wiping himself and dressing before rolling the guide over, out of the vomit that covered the floor where his head had rested. "Touchy little thing, aren't you?" he sneered. "I didn't think you'd be so delicate. Guess I'm going to have to wait for the drug to wear off before we can properly bond." The last was said with the hint of a sigh.

Walking over to the cage, he opened the door on the end. "Get in," he said gesturing to the container.

Blair continued to lie on the floor, his eyes wide. He opened his mouth to protest, but shut it quickly as the shining blade of the pocketknife glinted in the pale light of the room.

"I said, get in!" Sheffield repeated. "On my watch, guides do as they're told; no arguing, no hesitation. I want to take a shower, and I want you secure so I don't have to worry about you."

Blair got up and shuffled over to stand next to the detective. Sheffield held the door and made a shooing gesture with his free hand.

Blair had to get down on his hands and knees to crawl into the small cage. He watched with a thundering heart as the door was closed and padlocked once he was inside. After Sheffield had disappeared into the bathroom, Blair began to explore his cramped prison. Hands felt along the top and sides -- the enclosure was tall enough for him to be on hands and knees, but not to stand or sit; it was wide enough to encompass the width of his body plus two or three hand spans, enough to move, but only barely; its length extended about five feet, enough for him to lie curled on his side, but not to stretch out. There was no padding in the bottom as he had seen in the guide cage at the Seattle hotel, and the twisted bits of wire bit mercilessly into his skin. He shifted to find the most comfortable position and hit his head against the top. His hair tangled in the wire and he spent several long minutes getting free. Finally, he was able to lie down, using one arm as a cushion.

When Sheffield emerged from the bathroom, Blair watched as the man climbed into his soft bed, with no regard for the plight of his guide. With an inward sigh, he closed his eyes and tried to sleep. Please, Jim... find me, he pleaded silently.

~*~*~*~

"We've been driving around for hours," Simon pointed out. "I know you have excellent night vision, but if there was anything to be found, don't you think we would have found it by now?"

"Just a few more minutes," Jim insisted, turning a corner to circle the block again. "There may be something I missed; something small."

Simon sighed. He knew how desperate his detective was to find the guide, but it seemed to him as though they had done everything they could for the time being. An APB had been put out on Sheffield's vehicle, and they had spent the rest of the afternoon, into the evening, driving the streets of Seattle in an ever-widening spiral looking for clues, to no avail. "Jim, listen to me; as your friend," he pleaded. "You're not going to be any good to Blair if you're so exhausted that you can't control your senses. You need to get some rest. Let's go back to the hotel and get some sleep. We can continue to search in the morning."

"Blair may not have that time," Jim told him tersely. "He needs me."

The ringing of Simon's cell phone interrupted their argument. "Hello...? Hmmm... yes, okay. Thank you, Sergeant." He turned to Jim. "Sheffield's vehicle was found abandoned in a rent-a-car lot in Chehalis."

"Let's go," said Jim, making a one-eighty in the deserted street and heading for the freeway on-ramp. "That's only about an hour and a half's drive."

"Whoa, cowboy." Simon reached over to rest a hand on Jim's arm. "There's not going to be anybody at the lot this time of night. Sergeant Jenkins said it was a small business, and closed for the day. Let's go back to the hotel, get some rest, and be on the road first thing in the morning."

With a reluctant nod of his head, Jim slowed the truck and turned back toward the hotel.

~*~*~*~

Jim lay on the bed he had so recently shared with Blair, while Simon stretched out on the spare. "This just doesn't feel right," said Jim with a sigh. "I feel this big hole, right here." He rubbed his fist over his heart. "Like a piece of my soul has been ripped from me. Blair is more than my guide, Simon," he reminded his captain. "He's my lover, my partner, my everything."

"I realize that," Simon said, nodding. "Don't worry, Jim. We'll find him. Sheffield doesn't want to hurt the kid, he wants him as a guide."

"That's what worries me," Jim admitted. "Sheffield is very old school where guides are concerned. He won't have any feelings for Blair's comfort or dignity. All he's going to care about is what Blair can do for him -- guiding his senses and being a convenient fuck."

"I don't know Blair very well yet," said Simon, "but I got the impression he's tough, and a fighter. He'll endure until we can get there. You have to believe that he's going to be all right."

"You're right about one thing, Blair is a fighter. Sheffield likes his guides meek and obedient, something Blair definitely is not," Jim said softly. "It frightens me to think what Don might do to make Blair comply. He's probably torturing the kid, or threatening torture."

"Jim, you've got to calm down," Simon insisted sternly. "We don't know anything yet, beyond the fact that Sheffield has Blair, has headed south, and has changed vehicles. All this speculation is just making it worse for you, and isn't doing a thing to help your guide. Get some sleep. That's an order."

Jim grumbled, but complied, knowing he'd get no further sympathy from his captain that night.

~*~*~*~

"That's his car all right," Jim confirmed the next morning, as he and Simon pulled into the small rent-a-car lot in Chehalis.

Simon checked the operating hours of the business located in the front window. "They should open in the next fifteen minutes," he announced.

"In the meantime, I'm going to see what I can tell from Sheffield's car," Jim said, walking over to the vehicle. "Oh, God --" he groaned as he opened the passenger side door.

"What's the matter?" Simon asked, coming up behind his detective.

"I smell semen; Blair's semen. That bastard raped him right here in the car!" Jim slammed an open palm against the roof the vehicle. "Dammit!"

"Calm down, Jim," said Simon, resting a hand on his detective's shoulder. "Hold it together for Blair's sake. Can you sense anything else? Something that might help?"

"A chemical odor," Jim reported. "I've smelled something like it before, at the Guide Training Facility. It's a psi-suppressor drug, used to dampen a guide's empathic abilities. I was right!" He spun around to face Simon. "Sheffield did drug Blair to keep me from locating him through our bond!"

"He may also have used it to break the bond between the two of you, to open the way for him to bond with Blair," Simon speculated.

"Either way, we have to find Blair, Simon! We have to find him right away!" A blur of movement from his peripheral vision caught Jim's attention. He turned to see the proprietor of the rental lot walking toward the front door. "Come on!" He grabbed Simon's arm, dragging the captain with him.

"Good morning. May I help you?" the man asked.

"Cascade Police," Jim announced, pulling out his badge. "We need to get whatever information you have on the owner of that silver Taurus." He pointed toward Sheffield's car.

The man unlocked the door to his office and walked inside, followed by the two policemen. "I remember that man," he said, scratching his head. "He seemed awfully anxious to get another vehicle. Had a naked man in the car with him."

"My guide," Jim said tersely. "He kidnapped my guide."

The man looked up from his records. "Here it is. A Mr. Devon Shepherd; rented a red Jeep Wrangler, license number 445 CVZ."

Simon immediately hit the speed dial on his cell and started talking. "We need an APB put out on a red Jeep Wrangler, license plate number 445 Charlie Victor Zulu. Our suspect is using an alias: Devon Shepherd, and was last seen heading south on Interstate 5. Relay the bulletin to Oregon and California as well." He nodded and smiled at the proprietor of the business. "Thank you very much for your help. Come on, Jim." He took his detective by the elbow and steered him out of the building and back onto the lot. "Forensics is coming to give the Taurus a thorough going over," he explained. "Now we wait."

~*~*~*~

Blair awoke the next morning to a painful ache in his bladder. He clambered to his hands and knees to get the best view he could around the room. There were no sounds coming from the bathroom, and Sheffield was nowhere to be seen. Blair clamped his hand around his penis and squeezed, the pain diverting his attention momentarily from his urgent need to urinate. Glumly, he realized that he might be reduced to the humiliating position of having to piss in his own cage, but he was going to wait as long as he could before letting that happen.

Twenty minutes later, Sheffield walked back into the room, his clothes smelling faintly of the breakfast he'd just eaten at a nearby Denny's. The sentinel grinned and walked over to the small cage. "Time we clean you up properly," Sheffield sneered. "This motel has a guide shower, lucky for you." He bent over and unlocked the cage door. "Come on out."

Blair backed carefully out of the cage and was dragged to his feet as soon as his head cleared the opening. The leash was attached to his collar and his hands cuffed behind his back once more. For the moment, he didn't want to fight. Any chance he might have to relieve his bladder, even outside, was worth the temporary inconvenience.

Sheffield led him outside into the cool bite of the morning air. The sudden chill made Blair lose control and a steady stream of urine began to drain down his legs. His cheeks flushed with embarrassment, but the sentinel only laughed.

"Couldn't hold your water? Don't worry, when I'm done training you, you'll hold your piss until I tell you that you can pee." He jerked the leash, dragging Blair past several more rooms before opening a door marked "Guide Bath."

Blair chewed his lip, biding his time. He intended to escape, to make his way back to Jim at any cost, but he was filthy -- coated with semen and sweat from the night before, and now by the stench of urine. He welcomed the cleansing, and chose not to fight it.

Inside the small bathhouse were three shower stalls. In each one there were manacles on the floor and hanging from the ceiling. Sheffield made Blair spread his legs, fastening the ankle manacles before releasing the handcuffs and chaining his wrists above his head to the manacles hanging from the ceiling. Once he was properly restrained, Sheffield stepped from the stall and operated the controls from the outside. Cold water hit Blair from all directions at once, pummeling his already shivering body with icy needles of spray. He shook his head, trying to get away from the water spraying his face, but it was impossible.

The cold water stopped abruptly and, like some car washes he'd been through, Blair found himself suddenly being sprayed with soapy water. He closed his eyes tightly, but not before the sting of the soap had gotten in. No amount of squirming in his bonds stopped the torture, and so he waited. Finally, the clear, cold water started again, rinsing him clean. Lastly, blasts of warm air came from all angles, lasting about five minutes, drying his body if not his hair. He basked in the warmth, grateful for what seemed a small luxury.

When it was over, Sheffield released the manacles, cuffing his hands once more and leading him out of the bathhouse and back toward their room. Opening the door, he shoved Blair inside. The guide stumbled, landing hard on his knees in the middle of the floor. "Now it's time to claim you for my own," the detective growled, lust and hunger for this guide evident in his gravelly voice. He unsnapped the leash, tossing it onto the bed before bending to unlock the handcuffs. "Onto your hands and knees, guide!" he commanded.

"No!" Blair scrambled to his feet, settling into a defensive posture.

"What did I say would happen if I heard even a single word from you, guide?" Sheffield sneered, removing his knife from a pocket and opening the largest blade. He advanced toward Blair as the guide backed away.

Blair felt his back come in contact with a wall and put his arms out to fend off his attacker. "I won't let you. I won't let you do it," he said, his voice quaking. He'd already said enough to lose his tongue, so he decided to make the best use of the time he had left. "I'm not your guide. I'm bound to Jim Ellison. I'll never be yours; you can't force it!"

"We'll see about that," Sheffield said, pushing forward until he had Blair pinned. The guide struggled as the angry sentinel pried his mouth open and made a deep slice down the length of his tongue. "Call that a warning. I've decided to give you another chance, but the next time I swear I'll cut it out. Now, get down on your hands and knees!"

Weak from lack of food and water, and in shock from the pain in his mouth, Blair dropped to the floor, physically unable to fight off his attacker.

~*~*~*~

Simon answered the ringing of his cell phone. "Banks. Uh-huh... good. Thanks. Keep an eye on the place, but don't do anything until we get there." He hung up and looked over at Jim, who was chewing his way through a sausage McMuffin. "They located Sheffield's jeep at an Econo-Inn in north Portland, just off the Interstate."

"What are we waiting for?" Jim tossed the remains of his breakfast on the seat beside him and started the engine, burning rubber as his tires squealed their way out of the parking lot toward the highway.

~*~*~*~

The hard cock pounded into him, nearly shoving Blair prone to the floor. Sheffield's thoughts pushed against his, forcing the bonding of their minds. The drug he had been given the day before had worn off, and in his exhaustion and pain, Blair found it difficult to fight off the rape of his mind. His body would endure, but if Sheffield succeeded in bonding with him, he would be lost.

Anger and fear boiled up inside him, and as Sheffield's cock pierced deeply into his body, Blair lashed out with a single thought: NO! A searing pain flashed through his mind; a white light, blinding in its brilliance burst behind his eyelids. The cock within him stopped moving, buried to the balls inside his body. A heavy weight descended on his back. With a sudden realization, terror flooded through him and shock immobilized him.

Sheffield was dead.

~*~*~*~

"Room 134." The manager of the motel guided the police around to the room he had rented to the sentinel cop. He knocked on the door. "Mr. Shepherd? You in there?" When he got no response, he used his passkey to unlock the door. "Holy Mother of God!" he gasped, backing away from the sight that greeted his eyes.

Jim and Simon pushed forward into the room, freezing at the tableau that met their eyes. In the center of the room were two men: one naked and bowed on the floor; the other atop the first, dressed, except for his pants around his knees, his cock buried deep in the naked one's ass. Both men were unnaturally still.

His heart pounding, Jim tried to concentrate on his hearing instead of what his eyes were seeing. Fear for Blair was paramount in his mind. He felt Simon's steadying hand on his arm, but he was fully focused only on his guide. Finally, over the pounding of his own heart, he heard the slow, regular beat of his guide's, and Blair's shallow, slow breathing. Only three heartbeats sounded in the room.

"Sheffield is dead." Jim finally was able to move, taking two steps and kneeling beside the coupled men on the floor. He reached out to feel for a pulse to confirm what his hearing had already told him. He looked up at Simon. "Help me get him off Blair."

The two men pulled the body off the guide, the rigid cock pulling slowly from the battered body. "Rigor has already set in," Simon commented as they laid the body on the floor. "Any sign for a cause of death?"

Jim ignored his captain, concentrating his attention on his guide. Gently, he lifted Blair's head off the floor and cradled it to his chest. The blood around Blair's mouth and on the floor where he had lain frightened Jim. He stroked the tangled curls, speaking softly. "Blair? Sweetheart? Are you all right? Blair, I'm here; I found you. I'm not letting you out of my sight again, you hear? I'm going to take care of you, you'll be all right."

Simon came and crouched beside his detective. "He needs to be taken to a hospital," he said gently. "I'll call for an ambulance." He took his cell phone out of his pocket and dialed 911. When he had given the pertinent information, he hung up and turned back to Jim. "It looks like Sheffield may have had a heart attack. There's not a mark on him."

"I don't give a damn about Sheffield!" Jim spat. "He took my guide; he took Blair... and he tortured him. He's in shock; he won't wake up." He continued to rock the unresponsive body as he stroked the silken hair. "It's all right, Sweetheart. It's going to be all right," he continued to croon.

Simon looked up when he heard the distant sound of sirens coming near. When the ambulance arrived, he led them into the room. "It's my detective's guide, he's been raped and tortured."

"What about the other man?" the paramedic asked, looking past Jim to where Sheffield lay.

"Dead," said Simon, brushing him off.

"I'll call for another transport," the paramedic said, speaking quietly into the microphone on his shoulder. "Now, we need to care for the injured. Sir?" he addressed Jim. "We need to care for your guide, Sentinel."

Jim hugged Blair closer, unwilling to let go. "I'm coming with you," he stated, leaving no room for argument.

~*~*~*~

The Guide Ward at the hospital was quiet; the rooms shielded to protect the empaths from the pain and fear of other patients. Blair slept, curled onto his side, a lightweight blanket covering him. Jim sat next to him, holding his hand and monitoring Blair's vitals with his senses.

"How is he?" Simon asked softly, walking into the room with two cups of coffee and handing one to Jim.

"He hasn't woken up yet," Jim replied with a scowl. "I'm worried, Simon. The doctor said there wasn't much of anything wrong with him, except for dehydration. There was some minor tearing around his anus, but no internal injuries; a few scratches and bruises; and he had to put five stitches in Blair's tongue, of all places. That bastard cut Blair's tongue to keep him quiet!" His voice was an angry hiss. "But there's no reason for him to be unconscious this long --"

"Maybe you should ask for a specialist to come check on him," Simon suggested. "It might have something to do with his being a guide."

"All the doctors on this floor are guide specialists," Jim told his captain. "None of them can explain it, either. The best they can come up with is shock."

"G-im?"

The soft, muddled voice of his guide drew Jim's attention back to the bed. "Blair?" He stroked a hand over the young man's forehead, brushing back the tendrils of hair, and watched as the blue eyes opened and focused on him. "Babe, you're all right; you're safe now."

"S'effeeld?"

"He's dead, and good riddance," Jim growled. Then, seeing the look of hurt and fear in his guide's face, he softened. "You don't have to worry about him anymore, Sweetheart. He can't hurt you."

"K'lled 'im," Blair mumbled, his swollen tongue making speech difficult.

"What?" Confused, Jim bent lower to put his face level with his guide's. Simon stood silently behind his detective, his countenance grim.

"I k'lled 'im," Blair repeated. "Didn' mean to."

"Blair, you're not making any sense. You were defenseless. Sheffield was raping you, he was in control. We think it was a heart attack that got him," Jim explained.

"Ith was me," Blair insisted. "He tried to bond, rape my mind, my connect'n to you. I said 'no'."

"Some sort of psychic mind blast?" Jim was incredulous. "Those are only stories. There's never been any documented proof that a guide can strike out and kill with his mind!" Jim looked up at Simon, Blair's fear reflected in his own features. Simon was shaking his head and frowning.

"We're going to have to wait on the autopsy report," the captain said. "I'll go have a talk with Dan and see if we can push it through as a priority."

"Simon?" Jim stopped his captain with a hand to the man's arm. "Don't say anything about this to anyone just yet, okay? Blair is just waking up. He doesn't know what he's saying."

Simon nodded. "I understand, Jim. If true, this is a big deal and could have severe repercussions on Blair. We'll wait for the autopsy report. I'll talk with you later." He gave his detective a reassuring pat on the shoulder and turned to leave.

Jim turned back to his guide, his lover, and studied the worried face. "Simon won't say anything, Sweetheart. He's on our side; you don't have to worry."

If the Wardens find out I killed Sheffield, they'll take me back to the Guide Training Facility. Blair's words echoed clearly in Jim's mind, as steady blue eyes kept constant contact with Jim's own. They'll try to retrain me. The Training Sentinels will rape my body and mind, trying to forge new bonds. Jim, I killed once with my mind. If they try to hurt me, I may kill again! Blair reached out to grab both of Jim's hands and hold on tightly. I don't know what I did! I didn't mean to hurt him! He was trying to take me away from you -- break our bond, forge a new one. I couldn't let him do it. I just said 'no', and the next thing I knew, everything went dark and I woke up here.

"Shhh, shhh," Jim soothed, speaking out loud to his guide. "There's no proof you did anything. I'm not going to let the Wardens take you away from me. You're mine, bonded to me. You're my responsibility."

If I kill again, they'll lock me away, retrain me; possibly scramble my brains so that I lose my psi capacity! Don't let them take me, Jim! Please don't let them take me!

"Calm down, Sweetheart," Jim soothed, stroking his hand over the tangle of curls. "Just relax and get better, and don't say anything about this to anyone. Do you understand? Let me handle this."

Blair nodded. "Ho'kay." But you'll stay with me? Make sure they don't come to take me?

"Nobody is taking you away from me," Jim said firmly. "You can count on that."

"Ton-guh hurts."

"Sheffield sliced your tongue -- to keep you quiet, I suspect. The doctor had to put in five stitches. It's going to be swollen and sore for a while."

He threatened to cut it out completely if I talked, Blair explained. But he gave me a second chance.

"Damn good thing, too!" Jim spat. "Because if he'd hurt you any more than he already did, I would have killed him a second time!"

My blessed protector. For the first time since Blair had woken up, he smiled and squeezed Jim's hand reassuringly.

~*~*~*~

Jim was still seated next to Blair's bed late that afternoon when Simon returned with the news.

"Dan just finished the autopsy. Cause of death was an aneurysm in the brain," the captain announced. "Apparently, Sheffield had an undiagnosed weakening in one of the arteries feeding his brain. The increased blood pressure and physical activity of the sexual act was too much, and the artery burst like a too-full balloon."

"So it wasn't Blair?"

"Can't say that for sure," Simon conceded. "There's always a chance that the kid's reaction to the rape had something to do with it."

"Simon, if there's even an inkling of a suspicion that Blair might have killed Sheffield with some sort of psychic backlash, the Wardens are going to come and take him back to the Training Facility," Jim explained. "You know how they treat the guides there, sir. If it's true what Blair says he did, it could happen again. If they have proof that a guide can kill with his mind, they'll do surgery to eliminate his empathy -- to ruin him as a guide. They can't let a empath with that much power run loose."

"I hear you, Jim, but what do you want me to do?"

"Just keep quiet about what Blair said. He was delirious from pain, he didn't know what he was saying."

"And what do you believe?" Simon asked softly, giving Jim an understanding look.

Jim took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. "He's been talking to me, in my mind," he admitted. "It's as clear as if he spoke, but he's projecting the conversation into my head. That takes a lot of psychic strength and energy. I don't know, Simon.... When I bought Blair, his psi rating was off the chart at ten-plus. I believe he's capable of doing just about anything he, literally, puts his mind to."

"And killing someone?" Simon spoke cautiously.

"If, and I say if Blair killed Sheffield, it was self-defense. Both his body and his mind were being raped, and he fought back the only way he could," Jim said. "He's not a killer. I've never met a more gentle person in my life. Even if he has this ability, he'd never use it, except in self-defense."

"Or to protect you?" Simon queried.

"Possibly. But he's my partner, my guide. It's a guide's job to protect his sentinel. Look, you can't say anything. Please, Simon!" Jim begged. "There's no concrete proof. You said yourself that Dan's conclusion was a preexisting aneurysm. There you go -- all the excuse you need."

"The authorities won't hear it from me," Simon promised. "It's going down in the records as death from natural causes."

"Thank you!" Jim said fervently, turning to smile down on his sleeping guide.

Three days later:

"Man, it's good to be home!" Blair said, making a slow turn in the middle of the hardwood floor to take in all the corners of the loft apartment.

"It's good to have you home," Jim agreed, wrapping his arms around his guide and hugging him close. "I was terrified the whole time you were gone."

"I knew you'd come and get me." Blair grinned. His speech had returned almost to normal after the swelling of his tongue had gone down some. It still hurt to talk, but that couldn't stop the ebullient guide from expressing his feelings. "Sheffield frightened me, threatened me, but I got through it knowing that you were looking for me, that you'd find me. Guess we passed the test, huh?" Jim looked at him quizzically. "From the convention," Blair clarified. "You know, the 'find your guide' exercise?"

"That doesn't matter now," Jim said, turning his guide around in his arms. "What matters is that I have you back and I'm never letting you out of my sight again." He leaned down to kiss the waiting lips, mindful of his lover's injured tongue.

Blair placed both palms flat against Jim's chest. "It's been days since we bonded, Sentinel. Don't you think it's about time?" He smiled up at his partner.

"Are you sure you're ready?" Jim frowned with concern. "After what Sheffield put you through.... I thought you'd be more upset."

"I am upset -- angry, frightened, nervous, resentful -- the works, you name it. But I need this. As your guide, I need to reconnect, to become a part of you again, and to wash away the memories and the feel that Sheffield left with me."

"If you're sure --"

"Never been more sure of anything in my life, man," Blair said with a grin, taking Jim's hand and leading him up the stairs.

Jim allowed Blair to undress him first. Once fully naked, he began to disrobe his lover, laying him gently on the bed when he was finished.

Blair smiled up at him and pulled Jim down to lie on top. "I love you, Sentinel, mine," Blair whispered.

"And I love you, my Guide." Jim showered his lover's face with tender kisses before pulling back. "I thought that maybe you'd like to top tonight," he suggested. "I love having you in me, feeling you fill my body and mind with your passion."

"Not today, love, maybe later," Blair said softly. "As your guide, I need to feel you in me. I need to bond in the traditional way -- the way Sheffield tried to taint by fucking me."

"How do you want it?" Jim asked, letting his hands roam over his lover's chest, brushing at the nipples with his thumbs until the little nubs were pinched and tight.

"Huhhhh!" Blair's back arched with the gasped intake of breath, his body highly sensitized and ready. "Oh, God, Jim! I need you, I want you... like this, on my back, so that I can see you. Sheffield always took me from behind --"

"Shhh... no more talk of Sheffield, Baby," Jim said softly. "I'm going to love you, bond with you, and drive those memories from your mind." He began by lowering himself to suckle the taut nipples, biting lightly at the erect skin until his guide was moaning with desire. His hand reached between their bodies to stroke the hardening cock.

Blair's hands left their position in Jim's hair to grip at the sheets as his body bucked beneath his lover. "Ahhhh... God! Take me now, please!" he begged, already aroused almost to the breaking point.

Jim smiled. His lover had always been quick and demanding, but their brief separation had heightened his need. The sentinel was happy to comply, slipping down between Blair's spread legs. He let his tongue swirl around the leaking head of his guide's cock, tasting and reacquainting himself with his lover before moving lower to trace a wet path along the perineum to Blair's opening. He probed at the hole gently at first, and then with more vigor, forcing his tongue past the tight muscle.

Blair groaned and thrust his hips in an attempt to impale himself more deeply.

Jim complied, lubricating the opening with quick thrusts of his tongue. He stopped briefly, reaching for the tube of lubricant on the nightstand, and squeezing some on his fingers. Gently, he stretched the muscle, urging his tense lover to relax. When he was satisfied, he sat up, helping Blair to lift his legs onto Jim's shoulders before positioning his leaking cock at the entrance.

"Now! Now!" Blair begged, claw-like hands digging into the sheets in an attempt to keep from touching himself as he waited for the act of bonding to begin.

One long, slow thrust, and Jim was buried inside his lover, feeling the pressure and the heat from the joining. He wrapped a fist around Blair's hard cock and began stroking it in time with his thrusts.

/ I love you, Jim, with all my heart, with all my body, with all my mind. / I love you, my guide, with all of me, forever. We are one, never to be parted. / I am your eyes, your ears, your mouth; I am your guide, the other half of your soul. / I am your protector, your rock, your shelter; I am your sentinel, the other half of your soul. / Yours forever, until death parts us. / Not even death, my love. /

With a power that wracked his entire body, Jim's orgasm washed through him, joining him to his guide, his mate. Their cries of completion echoed around the loft, reverberating even after the two lovers had fallen silent, exhausted.

They rested together, Jim's body blanketing Blair's, their eyes closed, until finally Jim's softening cock slipped from Blair's body, separating them once more. Blair reached up to brush beads of sweat from his lover's brow, smiling at him sweetly. "Moira truly blessed me the day you walked into my life," he said softly.

Jim rolled off his lover, wrapping an arm around the smaller body to bring it with him, cradling Blair close to his chest. He kissed the top of his guide's head before asking softly, "Who is Moira, and what has she got to do with it?"

There was a twinkle in Blair's eye that Jim interpreted as barely contained mirth. His guide was in his element now, and the sentinel knew it. "Moira is a relatively obscure Greek goddess. She is considered the personification of fate... destiny. She is also the deity who decides a man's lot in life. She decreed that I be brought down from my pedestal and be made a lowly guide, but then she brought you to me, and I couldn't be happier."

"When my senses first came on-line," Jim said, sharing his most heartfelt thoughts, "I hated them. I didn't want to be a sentinel, to have to own another human being just to control my senses, but then I met you, and you changed my world. I guess you could say that Moira blessed us both."

"And she set us on our path as sentinel and guide -- a destiny I no longer fear to embrace." Blair tilted his head up to kiss his lover, sealing their bond. Forever.