Disclaimer: This story was written purely for my own enjoyment and the enjoyment of other fans. In no way do I make a profit off of it, and I recognize that the copyrights to the various characters belong to Paramount and Pet Fly Productions.Beta Credit: My appreciation to Alpha for all her hard work. But since I didn't take all her suggestions, any remaining mistakes are mine.
Rating & Warnings : (NC-17) For language, torture and attempted rape. It also contains discipline. But then, that's what you're here for, isn't it? ;-D
More Than He Bargained For
Montage
"Aw, man, it's just not fair!" the younger man complained. He hated the whining resonance in his voice, yet was too disappointed to prevent it.
"I know, babe, and I'm sorry," Ellison soothed. "But it can't be helped. You know how short staffed we've been because of the flu going around."
"But this makes three times, Jim. Three times that we've had to cancel our plans."
The detective shrugged helplessly. "I realize that, Chief, and I promise I'll make it up to you. Just not tonight."
"Yeah, whatever," came the surly reply as Blair turned away, a petulant frown marring his brow. A string of bad luck had interfered with their plans for the past three weekends, and he was in no mood to be mollified by Ellison's remorse.
"Maybe we'll get lucky and the bust will go down tonight," Jim suggested hopefully.
Moving to stand behind his partner, Ellison wrapped his arms around the shorter man's waist. "Then you and I can hit the club tomorrow night."
"Fat lot of good that's gonna do," Blair muttered.
Turning within the confines of the embrace, Blair peered disappointedly upwards. "You know this is the last night for that new band I wanted to hear."
"I realize that, and I said I was sorry," Jim gently replied. "But that's the best I can offer."
A myriad of expressions crossed Sandburg's features before resolving into anger. "Fine!" he retorted sharply, pulling away. "Then I'll just go by myself."
The older man's response was immediate, his tone brooking no argument. "I don't think so, Junior. Aside from the fact that you've just gotten over the flu and shouldn't be going out in the first place, I told you before that I don't want you going there alone."
"Come on, Jim," Blair wheedled, ignoring his lover's objection. "The place is going to be packed. What could possibly happen?"
"We've had numerous complaints about that joint, Chief. The only reason I agreed to let you go in the first place is because I was planning on being with you."
Mouth agape, Blair's eyes widened in disbelief, "The only reason 'you' agreed to let me go," he sputtered indignantly. "I've got a news flash for you, Jim. I'm an adult. I can make my own decisions."
"Not when it compromises your health or safety. I mean it, Chief," the authoritarian cautioned. "Disobey me on this and I can promise that you aren't going to like the consequences."
Crossing his arms defiantly, Blair seethed with anger.
"In other words, if I go, you're going to spank me."
"That's about the size of it," Ellison acknowledged.
"Damn it, Jim, that's not fair!"
"Whether you like it or not, we have an agreement, Chief, and rewriting the rules every time one of them conflicts with something you want to do is 'not' an option. If you think I'm being unfair, fine, then we'll discuss it like two rational adults. Otherwise, the only thing blatant manipulation and temper tantrums are going to get you, is a trip over my lap for a prolonged session with the hair brush."
"Fine!" Blair retorted, throwing himself down on the couch in a huff. "Go on your stake out and I'll just sit here like a good little boy."
Jim ignored the sarcastic tone and opted for a calm reply. "I realize you're disappointed and still feel a little under the weather, so I'm willing to cut you some slack on the attitude, Chief. But I mean it - if you go to the Carousel tonight, then sitting comfortably will be a distant memory tomorrow."
"Warning duly noted," Blair replied, his angry glare drilling a hole in the far wall.
"I can see there's no use trying to talk to you when you're in this frame of mind and I'm already running late. Hopefully, your disposition will have improved significantly by the time I get home, otherwise, we're going to sit down and discuss this in length. Have I made myself clear?"
"Crystal."
Sadly, the older man shook his head. Then, before the situation could escalate any further and they both said something they would later regret, Jim quickly let himself out of the loft.
Staring at the closed door, Sandburg silently fumed. 'Just who in the hell does Jim think he is? He's my lover not my father. And if I want to go out, I'm going to go out.'
Decision made, the grad student grabbed a change of clothes and headed into the bathroom for a quick shower. If he hurried he could just make the band's first set.
"It's about time you got here." Captain Simon Banks barked as the tardy detective hurried into the Major Crime bullpen.
"Sorry," Ellison replied.
Lowering his voice, Jim glanced around before confiding, "Sandburg and I had a few words before I left."
Simon let out a chuckle. "I take it the kid wasn't too pleased about being left behind."
"That's only part of it," Jim admitted. "He understands that you want to make sure he's over the flu before coming back to work."
"Then what's the problem?" Banks asked.
"For the last three weeks I've been promising to take him to see a new band that's appearing at the Carousel," Ellison explained. "But things kept cropping up..."
"And now he's pissed," Simon commented with a shrug "So, you'll take him next weekend. He'll get over
it.""This is the last night for the band," Jim replied with a grimace.
"Ah." The dark brows rose in understanding. "Well, I'm sorry the kid's gonna miss out, but it can't be helped. You know how shorthanded we've been."
"I realize that, Sir, and I'm sure Sandburg will, too, once he calms down long enough to think it through."
"Give you a hard time, did he?" Banks prodded.
Ellison blew out a pent up breath. "That would be an understatement. He even threatened to go by himself."
Instantly alarmed, the captain's forehead crinkled in concern. "Damn it, Jim, you know how dangerous that place is."
Jim nodded in agreement. "He eventually agreed to stay home."
"But not without a lot of persuasion," Simon guessed insightfully.
"Exactly," Ellison acknowledged, scowling.
With a commiserating pat on the back, Banks chuckled. "Well, what do you say we both get to work? The quicker we bring Mendoza down, the sooner you can get back to Sandburg."
"Sounds good to me, Sir."
Truth be told, he missed Blair already and was more than a little concerned about what his head strong lover might do in his absence. Frowning thoughtfully at the various possibilities, Jim followed his superior to the elevator.
"Will you just call him already!" Simon groused as Ellison checked his watch for the third time in ten minutes.
"I can't," Jim sulked. "He'll think I'm checking up on him."
"Well, aren't you?" the other man countered.
Ellison heaved a heavy sigh.
"Look," Banks told him pointedly, "you aren't going to be able to keep your mind on the job until you check in with the kid. So do it all ready!" The last comment sounded more like a command than a suggestion.
Pulling out his cell phone, Jim dialed the loft.
The Carousel was crowded and parking was scarce. Blair had barely managed to squeeze the Volvo into one of the few remaining spots behind the club, when his cell phone chirped. He snatched up the phone and checked the caller ID. "Jim," he acknowledged, grateful for call forwarding.
"Hello," he answered, mentally reciting a calming mantra and willing his heart to stop pounding.
"Hey, Chief," Ellison's familiar timbre came across the airwaves. "Things are pretty quiet around here so I just thought I'd check in and see how you were doing."
"Check in, or check up? " Blair said tersely, not willing to ignore such obvious subterfuge.
An irritated growl rumbled deep within the sentinel's throat as Jim reached up to absently rub at the headache forming between his eyes.
"I can see that your attitude hasn't improved any," Jim replied.
After an awkward silence, Ellison tried another tack.
"It feels strange not having you here. Simon's not exactly a stimulating conversationalist. I miss the sound of your voice," Jim confessed, ignoring the scowl aimed in his direction by his superior.
The wistful tone of his lover's voice made Blair flush guiltily.
"I miss you too," he softly admitted. "I'm sorry about earlier. I was just disappointed and you were the most convenient target."
"I know, babe, and I promise I'll make it up to you," Jim said, lowering his voice provocatively.
"That's a promise you're going to keep," he murmured, matching his partner's sexy tone. "I'm thinking that about a weeks worth of hot, steamy sex should just about cover the bill."
Ellison groaned. "Shit, Sandburg, what are you trying to do, kill me?" he accused in a whisper.
"Nope," the younger man cheekily replied. "Just giving you an incentive to hurry home."
"Just remember," the detective huskily retorted. "Paybacks are a bitch."
"I'm counting on it," Blair taunted.
"Company. Gotta go."
"Be careful," Blair cautioned. "And tell Simon that I expect you back in one piece."
Brow pleated with indecision, Blair sorted through his conflicting emotions. On the one hand, he hated lying to Jim. Once he'd gotten over his initial anger, he understood his lover's motivation at wanting to keep him safe. But, on the other hand, he 'really' wanted to hear the band and since he was already here --.
He slid out of the Volvo and hurried towards the club. With any luck he should have plenty of time to catch the first set and still get home long before Jim.
Yelling to be heard above the din of the crowd, Blair politely declined the proffered beverage. Shrugging, the bartender returned the drink to the tray and made his way over to the club's owner, Shane Donovan.
Silently watching as the two men conversed, Sandburg hoped he'd imagined the brief flicker of animosity that crossed the proprietor's face. Though Donovan was a handsome, well-built man, Blair had no trouble refusing his advances. Even if Jim hadn't already captured his heart, he was repelled by the arrogance and cruelty he saw in Donovan's calculating eyes.
Around him the house lights dimmed, signaling the start of the evening's entertainment. Eagerly anticipating the group that was about to perform, Blair dismissed Donovan from his thoughts and focused his attention on the stage.
"Nice work, Jim," Simon commented, pausing beside the desk where Ellison was finishing up his report on the Mendoza bust.
"Thank you, Sir, but it 'was' a joint effort," the detective reminded him.
"Better not let Sandburg hear you say that," the captain jokingly warned. "He might get the impression that he's replaceable."
Shocked by the implication, Ellison bristled. "There's no one, in or out of the department, that could even remotely replace Blair!"
Holding up his hands to ward off the verbal attack, "You don't have to convince me," Banks chuckled. "Remember, I've seen what the kid can do. So, why don't you quit dawdling over that report and get your butt home before Sandburg comes looking for you."
Looking comically horrified by the prospect, Ellison promptly retorted, "I'm on it, Sir!"
The applause continued as the house lights came back up. Flushed with excitement, Blair turned back to the bar and, raising the glass to his lips, drained half its contents. The band, as he expected, had been radical. But the club, packed with people milling about, had become oppressively warm. Swiping his sweaty forehead with his sleeve, he downed the rest of his beer and signaled for another. Just one more to quench his thirst and then he'd head home.
Sipping the second brew, Blair's gaze traveled over the club's diverse patronage. Chuckling, the anthropologist let himself contemplate the possible dissertations afforded by the people in this one room alone. His amusement quickly died as his eyes came to rest on Shane Donovan.
The look directed at him by the club's owner made Blair shudder. There was only one man he wanted looking at him like that, and that man was James Ellison. 'Speaking of which,' he thought, if Jim even suspected he had gone out tonight, his ass was going to be in trouble -- literally.
Suddenly, the remainder of his beer lost its appeal and pushing it aside, Blair rose unsteadily to his feet. "Whoa!" he gasped. Closing his eyes he grabbed for the bar as the room began to blur.
With a smirk, Donovan approached the stricken individual.
"Are you all right?" he inquired.
" 'M fine," Blair stumbled over the words, confused by his uncooperative tongue and blurry vision. "Jus... need some ... air."
"Of course," Donovan replied. "Let me give you a hand."
The touch was repulsive, making his skin crawl.
"No!" Blair asserted, recoiling from the man's grasp.
The instinct to flee was overwhelming. Turning away, his escape was blocked by two large men, club bouncers by the look of them.
Moaning as the room began to spin uncontrollably, Blair had one last coherent thought before sliding into oblivion. The knowledge that Jim had been right and he was a fool for not having listened.
With a frown that Ellison pulled his Ford pickup into a parking slot outside of 852 Prospect and turned off the ignition. Sandburg's Volvo was missing and Jim wondered what had possessed the younger man to go out in direct violation of his instructions. Giving Blair the benefit of the doubt, he let himself into the loft and looked around for some explanation for his lover's disappearance.
There was no note or message left on the answering machine. His search did uncover damp towels and the fact that Sandburg's favorite shirt was missing. Putting two and two together, Jim could only conclude that Blair had chosen to disregard his earlier warning and go to the club anyway.
"Son of a...." Ellison growled as the pieces fell into place.
Anger warred with concern as Jim raced out of the loft, intent on retrieving his disobedient lover.
"I hope you're enjoying yourself, Chief," he fumed as he climbed into the truck and started the engine, "because by the time I'm through with you, you're gonna wish you had listened to me."
Yet, even as he uttered the dire threats, Jim prayed that a well-deserved spanking would be the worst of Blair's concerns.
'But what if I'm wrong?' he silently wondered, pulling out into traffic.
Deciding that back up might be prudent, Ellison got out his cell phone and punched in the captain's number.
"Simon, its Jim. Sandburg's missing."
"What?" The cell phone amplified his superior's bellow and Jim winced.
"I think he went to the club," Ellison explained. "I'm on my way there now."
"I'll meet you."
"Right," Jim acknowledged and, snapping the cell phone shut, pressed down harder on the gas peddle.
Letting himself into what he'd affectionately dubbed 'the play room', Donovan allowed his eyes to roam over the naked man being held upright between the two bouncers. Moving closer, he began inspecting the merchandise.
Running a hand across the furred chest, he paused briefly to tweak one tawny nipple before continuing his exploration downward. One pale brow arched slightly in surprise as his hand closed around the impressive cock hanging limply between his captive's thighs. A small gasp of pleasure escaped him as the young man was turned around, and he caught his first glimpse of the supple ass. Grasping the
smooth cheeks, he forced them apart to reveal the tiny puckered opening. Experimentally, he inserted a finger.'Oh,yes,' he thought, 'this one was made to be fucked.' His thin lips parted in a smile. 'Among other things.'
"Secure him to the bed face down," he instructed. "And don't forget to place something beneath his hips. I want that superb ass raised."
Donovan removed his jacket, draping it carefully over the back of the room's only chair as he watched the bouncers carry out his orders.
"You may leave now," he told them. "And under no circumstances am I to be disturbed. Is that clear?"
"Yes, Sir," they responded in unison before filing out and securing the hidden entrance to the secret room behind them.
Moving to the side of the bed, Donovan looked down at his prize. 'He really is quite exquisite,' he thought, reaching out to trace the full lips.
Smiling at the mental image of those lips wrapped around his cock , Donovan reached for the container of smelling salts sitting on the bedside table. It was time for sleeping beauty to awaken.
A pungent odor caused his already queasy stomach to rebel. With a groan, Blair choked back the rising bile. Thankfully, the rancid smell swiftly receded, allowing him to focus instead on the unintelligible sounds reverberating through his skull.
"Wake up... busy night..."
The words, taken out of context, made little sense. Yet, even in his half-conscious state, Blair had an uneasy feeling that prompted him to open his eyes. But, try as he might, his eyelids refused to cooperate.
Suddenly, something stuck his face - harshly, once, than twice, causing him to cry out. Confused and frightened, he tried again, and this time his heavy lids sluggishly lifted.
"Wha'?" he tried to ask, only to have the word come out garbled.
Licking his lips, he made another attempt. "Whas happ'ning?" he finally managed to ask.
"What's happening is you shouldn't have rejected my advances."
Alarmed by the cold tone, Blair blinked and as his vision cleared, the face of Shane Donovan came into view. Slowly the evening's events fell into place. Instinctively, he tried to retreat from Donovan's presence, only to discover himself bound, naked, by wrists and ankles, to a four poster bed.
Terror bloomed within him.
"NO!" he cried, futilely trying to wrench free.
"It's useless to struggle," Donovan laughed. "You're not going anywhere."
Panting harshly, Blair made one final desperate jerk on the restraints before he stilled.
Struggling to put his thoughts into words, he tried again.
"Wha' are - you - going - do - to me?" he demanded, the words slurred and disjointed.
"I should think that would be obvious," Donovan replied with a lecherous smirk. His expression, however, quickly darkened.
"But first, you're going to be punished. No one," he snarled, grabbing a fistful of hair and yanking Blair's head back, "dares to refuse me!"
Abruptly, he released the dark mane and composed himself. Sandburg watched in fear as Donovan strode over to contemplate the display of implements hanging on the wall.
He reached out and caressed the pliable leather of a thick razor strap, before removing it from the wall.
"Yes, I think this will do very nicely," he commented, returning to the bed.
Doubling the leather, he wrapped the end of it around his hand.
"Perhaps a nice long session with the strap will teach you the error of your ways," he told Blair, who had renewed his struggles at the first sight of the insidious implement.
"Or not." Donovan shrugged. "Either way, I'm going to enjoy watching your ass get progressively redder. And then, after the welts have appeared and you're begging for me to stop, I'll spread those delectable mounds and take what you refused to give. I'm going to drive my dick so deep into that tight little hole, you'll be screaming. But not from the pleasure."
"No! Please," Blair pleaded, frantic with fear.
Donovan merely shook his head.
"You really shouldn't have refused me."
And with those ominous words, he brought his arm back.
Closing his eyes, Blair waited for the blow. Nothing however could have prepared him for the blinding pain that struck, then radiated throughout his buttocks. An inhalation, that had been choked off by the abrupt blow, seized up in his chest and his terror increased as breathing became an impossible task.
The strap struck again and again, thoroughly covering back, buttocks and thighs, each blow feeling as though it were slicing deeply into the skin. Pinpoints of light flared brightly on the back of closed eyelids and, as Blair lost the battle to stay conscious, he cried out for his 'Blessed Protector'.
The blue and white pickup screeched to a halt in The Carousel's parking lot, followed seconds later by Simon's sedan. Both men climbed out of their vehicles and, in silent understanding, started towards the building.
As with most nightclubs, Jim found the music to loud for normal sensibilities let alone his heightened senses. Adjusting the imaginary dial label 'volume', he scanned the bar's smoky, dimly lit interior searching for his partner. The band Blair had talked about was on stage, yet his partner was nowhere to be seen.
"Do you see him?" Simon inquired, his own gaze traveling over the assembled patronage.
Frustrated, Ellison shook his head. There were just too many people milling about.
"Maybe he's not even here," his superior suggested hopefully.
But Jim knew differently. His gut instinct was telling him that his lover was not only here, but in serious trouble.
"No, he's here. I can -- feel it."
Banks scanned the jam-packed interior in exasperation.
"Unless you can pull a rabbit out of your hat with those sentinel abilities of yours, I don't see how we're supposed to find him in this mess."
Ellison concentrated on filtering out the superfluous sights, sounds and odors one by one, until, finally, like a beacon on a dark night, only one thing remained-- the familiar heartbeat of his beloved guide.
"This way," he told Simon, starting towards the rear of the building.
Quickly shouldering their way through the crowd, they soon came to a door marked 'Employees Only'. Visible through the small window were two large men, guarding a door labeled 'Wine Cellar'.
"You think Sandburg's down there?" Simon asked.
Ellison nodded. "I'm positive."
That was good enough for Banks.
"So, how do you want to handle this? From the look of those goons, I don't think diplomacy is going to work."
"Fuck diplomacy," Jim growled and, drawing his gun, he kicked open the door.
Startled, both men reached for their own weapons but one look at a pissed-off Ellison, backed up by a menacing Banks, and they quickly changed their minds.
"Take 'em out slowly and place them on the floor. One twitch, one false move," the detective warned, "and they'll be cleaning your gray matter off the walls."
"That is if they have any," Simon muttered beneath his breath as the goons moved to comply.
"Now kick them over here and move away from the door," Jim barked his increasing concern for Blair making his curt tone sound even more deadly.
The guns had barely slid to a stop before Ellison was striding towards the door.
"Are you going to be all right?" he asked Simon.
"You just let me worry about these two," the captain replied. "Go find Sandburg."
With a quick nod, Jim threw open the door and started down the stairs.
Divesting himself of the last of his clothing, Donovan silently contemplated his recent acquisition. Part of him could not help but admire the young man's resistance, but the sadistic side of his nature had grown progressively angrier at the minimal response the beating had produced.
Instead of crying in pain and begging for mercy his captive had choked back the whimpers of pain rather than giving them voice. Donovan vowed that he would pay for that mistake as well, just as he had paid the price for his initial refusal.
A soft moan drew Donovan's attention away from the telltale marks of his handiwork.
Good, he was regaining consciousness. Time to make the beauty scream. Climbing onto the bed, he spread the abused ass cheeks, his cock hardening at the sight of the bruised, blood-slicked surface.
The cold metal of the gun barrel pressed behind his left ear forced Donovan to freeze.
"Just give me one more excuse to blow your fucking brains out." The voice was low and unmistakably deadly.
Slowly releasing the tender mounds, Donovan raised his hands.
"Now back off you sadistic son of a bitch before I forget that I'm a cop and tear you apart limb from limb."
Wisely, he chose to comply. Slowly easing himself off the bed, Donovan caught his first glimpse of the enraged Ellison as the detective stepped from behind him, gun still pointed in the club owner's direction, and made his way towards the man on the bed.
"Jim!" Simon called out, bursting into the room, his own weapon drawn.
Removing his set of handcuffs, Ellison tossed them to Banks. "Cuff the bastard."
Secure in the knowledge that Simon would handle the situation, Jim holstered his gun and, dismissing everyone else in the room, focused his attention on Blair.
'Oh God!' he silently moaned, taking in the battered and bleeding form of his guide. 'What has he done to you?'
Removing his jacket, Ellison carefully covered his lover. Quickly, he released the offensive restraints and, lowing himself onto the bed, tenderly stroked Blair's face.
"Jim?" The inquiry was issued sentinel soft.
Pale blue eyes clouded with unshed tears. "Yeah, babe," the endearment slipped out. "It's me."
"Don't move, okay?" he said, as Sandburg began to stir. "It's over, you're safe."
I'm -- sor -- ry," Blair whispered brokenly.
"Shhh, it's all right," Ellison crooned, staying the apology.
His hand reached out to caress his partner's disheveled locks.
"Nothing else matters as long as you're safe."
"Jim," Banks called softly.
A darting glance assure him that Donovan was securely cuffed to the chair.
"An ambulance and backup are on the way," Simon supplied, keeping his voice low.
"No, Jim, please. Don't want -- "
Clearly agitated, Sandburg struggled to sit up. Alarmed, Jim captured Blair's face in his hands
"Chief, look at me," he ordered.
Responding to the command, Blair stilled and dark lashes fluttered open to reveal dazed blue eyes. Slowly they focused on the sentinel's face.
"I don't know how badly you're hurt," the older man gently explained. "At least let the paramedics check you out."
"Please, no," Blair begged once again; pain, horror and embarrassment clearly evident in his features.
Expelling a sigh, Ellison looked to his superior.
"You could use the rear exit," Simon solemnly provided.
Jim's gaze returned to his lover's pleading expression.
"All right," he relented, "But let me check you out first. If I don't detect any life threatening injuries, we'll go home. Otherwise you're going to the hospital, Chief and no arguments. Agreed?"
Wearily, Blair nodded, knowing he'd been lucky to get his 'Blessed Protector' to relent even that much.
Simon discreetly turned away, affording them as much privacy as possible under the circumstances.
Gently, but efficiently, Jim assessed his partner's injuries and, with each welt that he traced, with every bruise his sensitive touch encountered, his anger grew. Not at the man who stoically endured his examination, but at the bastard who had done this to Blair.
Turning, Ellison's heated gaze bore down on Donovan.
Simon recognized that look and shuttered.
"Jim! Let it go. Sandburg needs you right now."
And still the sentinel stared.
"Jim?" Blair's tentative inquiry finally garnered a response.
As his attention returned to his partner, Ellison's expression softened. "You'll live. Come on, let's get you home."
Relief swept through the battered figure.
"Easy does it," Jim cautioned as he gently maneuvered Sandburg off of the bed and into the coat.
Reeling from the pain; pushed beyond his endurance and still feeling the effects of whatever Donovan had given him, Blair's knees gave way.
A soft moan escaped as Ellison effortlessly, a notion belied by straining muscles, hefted his guide into his arms.
"Sorry, babe," Jim whispered into the long chestnut strands of hair.
" 's okay," Blair murmured, burying his face into the crook of Ellison's neck.
"Jim, there isn't much time," Simon reminded the detective.
Ellison hesitated, torn between duty and his lover's needs.
"Go!" Banks insisted. "I'll take care of the situation here. You just worry about Sandburg."
With a nod of thanks, Jim grasped Blair tighter and hurried out the door.
Wiping the condensation from the bathroom mirror, Blair stared at his reflection. It had been over a month since Donovan had drugged, beaten and nearly raped him. Though the cuts, welts and bruises had healed, traces of his encounter still lingered in the haunted blue eyes staring back at him.
Blair shuddered to think of what would have happened if Jim hadn't arrived when he did. All of which could have been avoided if he had just listened to his lover in the first place. Yet, in the entire time since his abduction, the older man hadn't once brought the subject up. Gentle in his ministrations when tending Blair's injuries, Ellison had been nothing short of loving, attentive and supportive since
the night of the attack.The Carousel had been closed down and, when word of the club owner's extra-curricular activities hit the papers, several more of his victims had come forth. As a result, Donovan was assured of a lengthy prison sentence.
His injuries had healed and Donovan no longer posed a threat. So, everything should be fine --right?
Wrong.
There was still the matter of his disobedience hanging over their heads. And, despite the appearance that everything was normal in the Ellison-Sandburg household, Blair knew that the underlying tension would remain unless the issue was addressed. Toweling off, he dressed and went to confront his lover.
Marking his place, Jim laid the book on the bedside table. A slight frown marred his brow as he listening to Blair coming up the stairs. The younger man's heartbeat accelerated with each step.
Dressed in his standard bedtime attire of a baggy pair of sweatpants and one of Ellison's oversized sweatshirts, Sandburg appeared at the top of the stairs, his expression pensive.
Folding back the covers, Jim patted the place beside him. "Come on, babe. Climb in here and tell me what's bothering you."
Quickly scurrying beneath the blankets, Blair took a steadying breath and tentatively broached the subject. "We never talked about what happened that night. You - we" he amended, "have been avoiding the issue."
Ellison didn't have to ask which night. Images of his lover stripped, beaten and bleeding were indelibly imprinted on his brain.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
Blair grimaced at the familiar avoidance tactics.
"Come on, Jim, don't give me that. You specifically told me not to go to the Carousel alone and I went anyway. Not only that, I lied to you about it. I was sitting right outside the club when you called that night."
Uncomfortable with where this discussion was heading, Ellison climbed out of bed and began pacing the small confines of the loft bedroom.
"And you were severely beaten and nearly raped as a result."
Pausing, he eyed Sandburg. "Where exactly are you going with this, Chief?"
"You warned me what would happen and I still went -- knowing full well what the consequences would be if you ever found out."
"I realize that," the older man replied, resuming his pacing. "But don't you think you've been punished enough?"
"No."
The larger man did a double take.
"What?" he asked, stopping to gape incredulously at his partner.
Holding up his hands, Blair emitted a low chuckle. "Don't get me wrong man. I am so not into pain. But what Donovan did, and our choice to engage in a disciplinary lifestyle, are two totally different things."
Plopping down on the foot of the bed, Jim rested his head in hands.
"Is it?" he asked. "Because I gotta tell you, Chief, right now I'm having a hard time seeing the difference."
"How can you say that?" Blair exclaimed with a hint of anger.
With a sigh, he crawled to the end of the bed, wrapped his arms around his lover's waist, and rested his chin on Jim's shoulder.
"Donovan is a sick, sadistic son of a bitch that gets off on hurting others. He likes to control and dominate."
Mutely, the detective stared at the floor.
Grimacing thoughtfully, Blair prodded. "Tell me, Jim, do you enjoy it when you spank me?"
"Of course not!" Ellison fiercely replied, whirling to face his partner.
Sandburg smiled knowingly.
"That's because it hurts you as much as it hurts me. Don't you see, Jim? That's the difference. When you punish me it's done out of love and concern, not some sadistic need to get off."
Ellison was not convinced.
"I agree with you up to a point, Chief. But you and I both know I have -- control issues."
"True," Blair agreed, smiling. "But I kind of like your anal retentive qualities."
The comment earned him a glare and he laughed outright.
"Come on, Jim, it's as much a part of you as your sentinel abilities. In fact," he added, "it may even be connected to the same genetic predisposition."
The scowl on Ellison's face remained.
Undaunted, Sandburg continued. "Sure, you take command of situations when it's called for. But you also know when to give up control."
Receiving no reply, Blair sighed. Sometimes trying to talk to Jim was like talking to a brick wall.
Nudging his lover, he asked, "How many times have you let me guide you in the use of your senses? Or followed one of my leads on a case? You relinquish control all the time, man. You're just too pigheaded to realize it."
Ah-hah! That garnered a response. Blair was certain he saw the corner of Jim's mouth twitch.
"So," Ellison replied, "basically you're telling me that I've been deluding myself and it's you who's been in control of this relationship all along?"
Sandburg grinned.
"Who said Jim Ellison couldn't be taught?" he quipped.
Jim playfully cuffed Blair along the back of the head, before retorting, "Watch it, Junior. Remember, I know where you live."
The accompanying smile, however, quickly died.
"I don't know, Chief. After what happened, I'm not sure I can bring myself to continue in a disciplinary relationship."
"I know what you mean," Blair replied with a hint of a shudder. "But let me ask you this -- and I want you to answer honestly. What if Donovan hadn't beaten me? What would you have done then?"
Carefully considering the question, Jim finally sighed, "I'd have blistered your butt for disobeying me and placing yourself in a dangerous situation."
"Don't forget the lying," Sandburg interjected helpfully.
"And for lying to me," Ellison obediently added.
"And if a similar situation should arise, what are you going to do then?"
"Nothing like this had better ever happen again," the sentinel growled.
"Jim, man, get real. This is 'me' we're talking about," Blair reminded him. "My point is, you can't change who and what you are. And if you try and deny your natural instincts, it's only going to drive a wedge between us."
"So," the older man concluded, "you think we should continue with our disciplinary lifestyle?"
Sandburg nodded. "It's something that we've thoroughly discussed and agreed was needed within our relationship. I don't see any reason to change things now."
Ellison's eyes narrowed accusingly. "If that's true, then why was your heart beating a mile a minute when you first came upstairs?
Looking decidedly uncomfortable, Blair confessed, "Okay, I admit I'm still a little gun-shy after what happened. But I also realize that there's a 'big' difference between loving discipline and abuse. It's never been about dominance and control with you Jim. It's always been about love."
Ellison frowned thoughtfully. "So, you think I should follow through on my promise and blister your bottom?"
The younger man grimaced. "Well, I wish you'd put it another way but, basically, yeah. I think you need to do it. I think we both do."
"Are you going to be all right with this -- with us, if I do?" Jim asked unable to completely mask his remaining doubts and fears.
"I trust you, man," Blair chuckled nervously. "The question is, do you trust me?"
And still his lover hesitated.
"Think about it," he tried one last appeal. "You unconsciously monitor me all the time with your senses. Do you really think you could exceed my limitations? Cause me irreparable harm? Hell, you're more attuned to my bodily functions than I am."
Ellison snickered.
"You know what I mean," Blair glowered.
Holding up his hands in defeat, the detective chuckled. "All right, all right, you win."
"Was there ever any doubt?" Sandburg retorted smugly.
All traces of humor gone, Jim tenderly caressed his lover's cheek. "You're positive this is what you want?"
"I can't honestly say I'm looking forward to it," Blair admitted. "But we've got to get back up on the horse sometime, right?"
"All right," Jim agreed. "Let's do it then and get it over with."
The butterflies in Blair's stomach were back with a vengeance.
"Um - do you want me to get anything?" he stammered, nervous now that the time was actually at hand.
Ellison's expression softened. "I don't think either of us is quite ready for the heavy artillery, Chief. Even if you do deserve it," he added, trying to look stern.
"I do," he continued, "expect your bottom to be bare. So, drop 'em, Junior and make yourself comfortable. Because you're going to be across my lap for a long time."
Grumbling something about 'fanny fetishes', Blair shoved the sweatpants and boxers down to his ankles before carefully positioning himself over the older man's lap.
Noting the slight increase in his guide's breathing, Jim began rubbing soothing circles along Sandburg's lower back and buttocks. Slowly, Blair's breathing evened out.
"Are you all right?" Ellison inquired gently.
"Yeah, I'm fine," the younger man responded with only the briefest of hesitations. "Let's just do it, okay?"
"All right," Jim agreed. "Since you're already aware of why you're being punished, I won't draw this out by reiterating the facts. But I want you to remember, if anything like this ever happens again, the spanking I'm about to give you will seem mild in comparison."
And with that proclamation, Ellison brought his hand down. Recalling Sandburg's actions and the dangerous situation they had landed him in, Jim's initial reticence soon faded to be replaced with a new found determination to ensure that the mistake would not be repeated.
With alternating blows, Ellison thoroughly covered the twin globes with precision. The smooth, creamy buttocks quickly took on a rosy glow and, as the spanking progressed, heat began to radiate from the rapidly darkening skin.
Soon, Blair began to squirm beneath the onslaught. Pausing only long enough to reposition his errant lover, Jim securely trapped the flailing legs and administered several more hard swats to the upturned bottom.
When he was satisfied that Blair had been thoroughly chastised, Jim asked, "What's the lesson here, Chief?"
With a snuffling breath, Blair dutifully replied. "That I should listen to you when it comes to the matter of my safety."
"And?" the larger man prompted.
"It was a mistake to go into a place like that alone."
"What else?" Ellison asked.
"That I should never, under any circumstances, lie to you."
"All right," Jim nodded approvingly. "I think we're done here."
"Can I get up now?"
Recognizing the pleading tone, Ellison quickly released his partner.
Wincing slightly, Blair levered himself up and, turning away, pulled up his boxers and sweatpants.
"Are you all right?" Jim asked. While it wasn't unusual for his guide to be somewhat subdued after a spanking, this was hardly a normal circumstance.
Swiping at his eyes with the back of his arm, Sandburg turned to face his disciplinarian.
"Yeah, man, I'm fine. It was just a little -- intense, you know?"
Although his lover had tried to make light of it, the sentinel wasn't been fooled for a second. A haunted expression still lingered in the younger man's eyes.
"Is there anything I can do to help?" he asked gently.
"I wouldn't say no to a hug," Blair replied.
Opening his arms, Jim quickly found himself with a lap full of Sandburg. Holding his most precious possession tightly, he drank in the scent of his mate and listened patiently as Blair apologized.
"I'm so sorry, Jim," he sniffled. "I knew it was wrong and I went anyway. I swear, I will never do it again."
"Shhh," the older man whispered. "It's over now and you've learned a valuable lesson in the process. So, let's just put it behind us, okay?"
Sandburg nodded.
"It's been a long day so what do you say we hit the sack early tonight?" Jim suggested.
Pulling away, Blair peered into his lover's eyes.
"Sounds good," he agreed. "I am a bit tired."
With reluctance, Ellison released his guide and watched as the smaller man crawled beneath the covers before pulling them up to his chin. Sighing, Jim slid between the sheets on his own side of the bed and turned out the light.
"Jim?"
His lover's voice penetrated the darkness.
"What is it?" he asked, rolling over onto his side to face Blair.
"Would you mind if we didn't -- you know -- tonight?"
The hesitancy in the question bothered him.
"You have the right to say no, Chief," Ellison responded more gruffly than he intended.
"I know -- I was just wondering if you would hold me instead?"
His expression softening, Jim reached out to tenderly stroke his beloved's face.
"Any time, babe. After all," he pointed out, "you're the boss."
Smiling, Blair immediately snuggled closer.
"And don't you forget it."
-- The End --
