Jim was in the hospital for four days total and ready to take everyone’s head off by the time he was released, Blair’s included. He knew that he was being unreasonable, but being confined had never been easy for him to deal with and being injured on top of that was just fuel for the fire. He was healing, that was easy enough to feel, and because his body was telling him that it was ready for movement, but he wasn’t allowed out of the bed, Jim’s temper suffered.

A lot.

When Blair’s head poked into his room on the morning of the fifth day and he tentatively called out, “Is it safe to come in?” Jim growled with impatience and aggravation. Mostly at himself, because one thing Blair never was, was tentative, except around him. “Yes, it’s safe.”

Flashing him a grin, Blair entered the rest of the way and held up a bag. “Clothes without a flap in the back should improve your temper a little. Leaving, should improve it a lot. I hope.”

Jim snorted and awkwardly pushed himself into a sitting position, casting his legs over the side of the bed for balance. His left arm was in a massive cast, immobilized and sticking straight out, where it would remain for the next month solid, until it healed enough to go to a lesser cast for a month after that. At least according to official prognostications. Jim knew that it would be a much shorter time for him to be in a cast, thank God. His internal stitches were already dissolving, the damage done practically healed.

A thought occurred to him and he asked, “Blair?”

“Yeah, babe?” Blair answered absently, rifling through the bag and pulling out a pair of jeans.

‘Babe,’ Jim thought, unaccountably pleased by the absent-minded endearment. Stifling the stupid grin that had surfaced, which fortunately, Blair hadn’t witnessed, Jim questioned, “What happens when the cast needs to come off in two weeks, instead of four?”

Startled, Blair looked over at him and asked, “Will it?”

“Yeah. I’ve never been in a cast longer than that,” Jim informed him. “I’ve broken my leg twice, my right arm once, can’t tell you how many ribs I’ve busted over the years, and I even cracked my collar bone, falling off a training ledge. Thing is, I’ve always healed in about half the time that the doctors predicted.”

“But you always moved around so much, or were in the military, that none of it was put together before,” Blair guessed slowly.

Jim nodded and climbed off the bed, accepting the jeans Blair held out to him. “That could happen now.”

With a sigh, Blair agreed, “Cascade General is filled with pretty smart doctors.”

“So what should we do?”

That Jim was leaving their course of action up to Blair completely would have surprised anyone else, he knew. But that was what Blair did. He fixed things that didn’t need to be shot, beaten down, or blown up.

“Let me think on it for a few days,” Blair finally said, helping Jim on with his pants. “I’ve got some ideas, I just need to let them percolate.”

Jim groaned as the words brought up a welcome image and he asked, “Coffee? Please?”

Laughing, Blair sidled in close as he zipped Jim up and teased, “Caffeine deprived are we?”

Jim’s good arm wound around Blair’s waist and hauled him in tight as he thrust a leg through Blair’s. His actions provoked a delicious surge of pheromones and he leaned down, breathing in deep at Blair’s throat as he murmured, “That’s not the only thing I’m deprived of, Chief.”

Blair moaned softly, rubbing his crotch down on the strong thigh as his head bent to the side, exposing himself to Jim, who instantly sucked at the vulnerable flesh, biting at it with need.

“Shit. Um, I’ll come back later.”

Restraining a snarl of frustration, Jim reluctantly let go of Blair and motioned his brother in. “No, Stevie, it’s okay. Come on in.”

The second good thing to come of this mess was that he and his brother were a lot closer than they had been, in a very short amount of time. They hadn’t been on such good speaking terms since they were kids. Maybe since that last time, when he’d attacked their father. Another repressed memory he could’ve done without remembering. There was no real wonder, now, why his father had been so adamant about not using his Sentinel gifts. The older man had probably assumed the, well, whatever it was called when he changed into a jaguar, was connected with the abilities. Better safe than sorry, had probably been the older man's thinking.

Still unsure, Steven came in the rest of the way and said awkwardly, “Sorry about that.”

Blair chuckled, hand rubbing the mark Jim had left as he replied, That’s okay. Jim can ravage me later.”

“Sandburg, that is just way too much information,” Simon observed, opening the door on Blair’s statement. “You have no internal censors, do you?”

“Not a one,” Blair agreed cheerfully.

Leaning on the bed, Jim grinned to himself as he watched his lover, brother, and best friend banter back and forth for the few minutes it took the nurse to arrive with the wheelchair. The explanation of what had been, and still was, going on, had been long and painful, for all of them. Steven had been present at the talk with Simon too, something that Blair had insisted on, though Jim still wasn’t sure why. But then, Blair’s brain worked in such dizzying ways that it would take a much smarter man than him to figure it all out. Simon had taken the news with a strange kind of calm, though he may have flipped out, outside of hearing range, Jim didn't know. He was grateful, though, for the black man's acceptance of the even stranger circumstances.

Even though he knew there was no way he was getting out of the hospital on his own two feet, Jim growled at the wheelchair and the Nurse pushing it, when it arrived.

Blair hastily jumped in, stepping between Jim and the startled Nurse to say, “That’s okay. I’ll make sure he gets in it and roll him out myself. We have to stop by discharging anyhow.”

The woman nodded and left quickly.

Helping Jim into the button-up shirt which had the left arm cut off, Blair scolded, “You really need to stop scaring the hospital personnel, Jim. We need them far too often to antagonize.”

Jim sighed.

*  *  *  *

Once Jim, Simon, and Steven were all safely ensconced on the sofa, the remote firmly in Jim’s possessive hand and sports on the television, Blair retreated to his laptop at the kitchen table. The background noise of the men cheering or jeering at the game was soothing, like white noise. Turning on the computer, he made himself some tea while he waited for it to boot up then pulled up the research he’d been conducting over the last few days.

Shapeshifters. A legend that he’d never taken seriously, and had always considered entirely separate from Sentinel lore anyhow, were now his main focus. He and Jim had a grip on Sentinel and Guide, and had for the last few years. They’d survived just about everything fate had thrown at them to split them up, including another Sentinel, insane from her lack of a Guide, public exposure, Blair’s subsequent public disgrace, and a myriad of other challenges that he couldn’t even remember unless he really struggled to think about them. Which he really didn’t want to do.

Werewolves were the most common of the legends, of course. Men who turned to wolves at the full moon, becoming insatiable beasts who fed on other men. There were many creationist myths regarding the creatures, stemming from Shamanistic rituals and beliefs in polytheistic and Gods who took the forms of the animals. The term Lycanthrope itself came from a Greek legend about a king, Lycaon. There were different versions, but the most common was that the King had killed and served a baby to Zues, earning his disgust and wrath and being transformed into a wolf for his actions.

But wolves weren’t the only form. There was also the Minotaur. And Achelous, who changed into a snake, or a bull,while battling Heracles, depending on what legend was being read. And Mermaids were a fairly universal myth, running through most sea-faring nations throughout history. Traveling to the Celtic mythology, there was always the Faelad, another word for werewolf, and the Druidic magician, Gwydion, who transformed Blodeuwedd into an owl in the Fourth Branch of the Mabinogion. There was also the 930 AD German reference by Pope Leon about sorceresses transforming their ‘guests’ into animals.

It was like he’d told Jim. While there hadn’t been any specific mention of shapeshifting within the Sentinel tradition, there was nothing to exclude it, either. And it did actually make a lot of sense for Sentinel’s to be shapeshifters, gaining that much more connection with their environment.

There was a plethora of resources available on all kinds of shapeshifters, both in books and online. The problem was to sort through all of it to glean the truth, that kernel of real information that would help them. There wasn’t exactly a support group for those just starting out, after all. Amused by the thought, Blair typed into Google, ‘Werewolves Anonymous’ and actually came up with a discussion group, among various other websites. Blinking in surprise, Blair hesitated, then shook his head and hit the refresh to erase his search. Even if everyone in that group was earnest in their desire to find out more about shapeshifters, it wouldn’t protect or help Jim.

And it could, somehow, lead someone back to them that had far worse intentions.

So. How to find out what was real, and what was fiction? Blair started doing what he did best; compiling information for study, analysis, and breakdown.

*  *  *  *

“Has he come up for air yet?” Simon questioned, amused.

Jim groaned and shook his head. “He stops to take a piss and eat, but I really haven’t seen him since you all brought me back from the hospital, despite the fact that we live in the same place. I’ve tried to distract him, believe me, but no luck.”

Moving the sugar and milk across the diner table so Jim would be able to reach it easily, Simon grinned and said, “It’s your own fault, Ellison. If you hadn’t gone all furry on us, none of this would be happening.”

With a snort, Jim started spooning sugar into the coffee as he retorted, “I’m glad you can joke about this now, Sir.”

“Me, too,” Simon agreed, dry. “How’s Steven doing?”

“He’s fine. Stops by once a day to make sure I’m still breathing, what with Blair in research mode.”

The tone was only quasi-joking and Simon frowned. “Everything okay, Jim?”

Sighing explosively, Jim took a sip of the coffee before answering, “It’s fine. I’m just a little...frustrated...at the moment.”

“Ah.”

And really, there was no more need for words. Simon knew that Jim and he were a lot alike and suspected that Jim’s sex drive was every bit as healthy as his own. If Blair was paying a hell of a lot more attention to his laptop and research than to Jim, which was what it sounded like, then it was no wonder that the other man was frustrated.

“Yeah.”

“Well, it won’t last too much longer, right? He’s been at it for almost two weeks solid now, not even counting before you got released,” Simon suggested.

Jim sighed, absently scratching where the cast met his shoulder. “I don’t know, Simon, I mean shit. You don’t know what he was like when he first started with the Sentinel stuff. Unrelenting. I don’t even remember him sleeping the first month that he lived with me. I’d occasionally find him passed out, and then he’d be raring to go again.”

Simon shuddered and observed, “Better you than me, Jim, no offense.”

A second before the woman stopped at their table, Jim stiffened in alarm. His hand automatically went to the gun that wasn’t where it should have been and he growled softly, shifting so that his injured side wasn’t so exposed as he looked at the intruder. She was tall and willowy, strong despite the slight frame, with white-blond hair cascading down over her shoulders and pale blue eyes meeting Jim’s for only a second before dropping to the floor as she murmured, “Excuse me.”

Simon had angled when Jim did, taking his cues from the other man as he always did, and his hand rested at his hip, on his weapon. “Can we help you?”

“I believe we can help you,” she replied softly, her answer directed to Jim, not Simon, even as her stance remained strangely submissive.

Jim glared at her, baring his teeth in a way that made Simon nervous, but he remained human enough as he demanded, “Who are you?”

“I am Jessica Wirlich, beta, mate, and Guide to Karl Mendoff, Sentinel of the Seattle Clan.”

Simon blinked a few times in surprise, then glanced at Jim. Not surprisingly, his jaw was clenched tight and his nostrils flaring as he scented the area for danger. Just as he thought that, Jim’s head snapped to the side where a man roughly Jim’s height and breadth stood by the door. Thankful he had his glasses on, Simon saw the man to be in his fifties, blond hair balding, but still powerful looking.

“May Karl approach?”

The woman’s question was a surprise to Simon, but he was glad enough for it. The last time there had been a Sentinel on the loose, things had gone from bad to hellish in a really short damn time. They’d almost lost first Blair, then Jim.

“We mean no disrespect, Sentinel, nor do we represent any threat,” she continued calmly, still looking at the floor. “It has been brought to our attention that your Guide is searching for answers and we believe that we can provide those answers.”

Simon didn’t dare move, holding his breath as Jim’s piercing gaze went from one to the other.

“Fine,” Jim granted, surly.

Taking the hint from Jim, Simon stood and offered his seat to the woman, taking his place at Jim’s side in the booth. At least they were all equally confined.

The man walked over, a model of grace and strength, and sat beside his Guide. His head inclined to Jim and he greeted, “Thank you for seeing us, Detective Ellison.”

Damn, they know a lot about us, Simon thought. It made him itchy, wondering how they’d come across the information and what they would, or already had, done with it.

“What do you want?” Jim questioned bluntly.

A faint smile surfaced on the not-quite handsome face, and Mendoff replied, “To help you.”

Jim snorted. “Bullshit.”

The smile grew, and Mendoff allowed, “To ally ourselves with you.”

Not revealing an iota of what he might be thinking, Jim asked, “Why?”

“Because without any Clan, you have somehow managed to keep a city the size of Cascade safe and free of Interference. That means you have a lot of power and it is only wise for me and mine to be your allies, not your enemies.”

And why Simon felt there was a capital ‘I’ on interference, he didn’t know, but it made him seriously uneasy. A few seconds later, Simon was treated to a minor relaxation in the man beside him and wondered why just as Blair asked lightly, “Is this a private party, or can anyone join?” Standing, Simon allowed Blair to take his place and then stood to the side of the booth. There was no way he was leaving his friends alone with strangers like these, not with Jim injured.

Mendoff and Jessica were both staring at Blair as though gaining some kind of enlightenment, and Simon snorted to himself. Sandburg often had that kind of affect on people, though he didn’t understand it. Mostly, the kid just irritated the crap out of him with his propensity for getting into trouble and the nonstop chatter on any, and every, subject. Then he had to silently amend that, because he’d grown to care for Blair as a second son over the five years of knowing him. He brought out the same protective instinct in Simon that Darryl did and that impulse wasn’t helped any by the way the two younger men had formed a lasting friendship.

That didn’t mean the chatter was any less irritating.

“So. What’s up?” Blair asked innocuously.

There was more silence until Jim finally informed him lazily, “That’s Jessica and Karl Mendoff. They’ve come to help us out.”

Blair’s voice was amused as he replied, “Is that right?”

Mendoff recovered himself by then and confirmed, “That’s right. It’s come to our attention that you are looking for answers about Detective Ellison’s...heritage.”

“And how did you hear that?” Blair questioned, leaning back in the booth.

Mendoff shrugged. “We have our sources.”

Blair half-smiled and agreed. “I’m sure, but we don’t know you, and don’t know anything about you. I’m certainly not going to discuss anything private with you, either of you, so you can stop the flirting.”

Jessica looked startled, as much as Simon himself was, since he’d seen no sign of flirting from the woman. She’d just been sitting there, so far as he could tell.

Jim leaned in towards Blair, his cast across the back of Blair’s shoulders, and settled his mouth near the nape of the smaller man’s neck, though it didn’t actually touch. Simon swallowed uneasily at the proprietary behavior. Even though Jim had just been complaining to him about their lack of sex life, it hadn’t really hit him that they were lovers. Not in that visceral, ‘he’s mine don’t even fucking think of touching him,’ way. And with such a small gesture, Jim had stated that as clearly as if shouting it from the rooftops. Simon saw further surprise flitter across the newcomers’ faces and tried to keep his own from showing.

Blair’s hand covered Jim’s on the table and he smiled briefly up at his lover before turning back to the others and saying, “Cascade does not welcome either one of you. If, in the future, you or yours want to come here without permission, we’ll take that as an...insult and you don’t really want us to do that. I suggest that you call and ask first, if there’s a next time. Come on, Jim.”

Sliding easily out from behind the table, Blair waited for Jim to climb out, offering no support, though Simon knew the other man’s balance wasn’t what it usually was.

“Wait, please.”

Blair paused, his hand on the small of Jim’s back, and canted his head back at Mendoff, who’d spoken.

“Look, I know this isn’t the best place to talk, and I’m sorry if we caused offense, sweeping in here like this, but you have to understand that things are getting out of control. You’re going to need our help, if you want to keep Cascade as it is, in the near future.”

The earnest words caused the hairs on the back of Simon’s neck to stand up.

Arching an eyebrow at him, Blair countered softly, “I think that you’re here because you’re going to need our help, if you don’t already. No, we don’t know what’s going on. No, we have no allies to speak of, in your world. And yet, we’ve managed just fine by ourselves over the last several years. Better than the rest of you, from the way you’re trying to snare me. When you decide to be truthful, give me a call.”

Mendoff stood abruptly, moving towards Blair, and Simon could never truly be sure of what happened next. It looked like Jim launched himself at the other Sentinel despite the cast, moving so fast that he was a blur. The two men crashed over the back of the booth, into the next one. There was, Simon would swear later, actual snarling, as if two great cats were fighting, as Jim and Mendoff struggled on the table. Before Simon could move to help his friend, Jim was on top of the bigger man, leaning on his cast and cutting a knife into Mendoff’s throat. The position had to kill the injured shoulder, but Jim showed no sign of it.

Gaping at them, Simon opened his mouth to say something, anything, to stop the impending bloodshed he could feel coming, God damned Sentinel shit, but Blair beat him to the punch. Only, he didn’t say what Simon would have expected him to say.

Blair walked over to them and leaned down, close to Mendoff, and warned mildly, “Don’t come see me again unless you’re prepared to be completely truthful. And don’t think that I won’t know when I’m being lied to, because I do. I don’t need Jim to do it for me.”

Simon was pretty sure that the shell-shocked expression on Mendoff and Jessica’s faces was echoed on his own as Jim nimbly rolled off the table to his feet. A thin line of blood was sliced into Mendoff’s throat, but it was sluggish, not deep. Simon waited until Jim and Blair were both out of the diner before walking over to the stunned man and helping him off the table.

“Mother of All,” Mendoff whispered. “He’s so strong. I never expected...”

Meeting the other man’s gaze as Jessica put her arm around his waist, Simon’s lips twisted in agreement and he said, “There’s more to Sandburg than what meets the eyes. Look, you have a right to file a complaint about Ellison’s behavior, and I’ll take the statement personally if you want, but I wouldn’t recommend it. He and Blair are...well...they’re kind of everyone’s favorites, for all the fact that Ellison can be a real asshole sometimes.”

Mandoff shook his head. “No, of course no complaint, but not for that reason.”

Right. They wouldn’t want the publicity.

Frowning at him, Jessica questioned, “Are you their beta?”

Simon shrugged. “I’m their friend.”

*  *  *  *

Jim could hardly make his hand work right as he tore at Blair’s pants with his free hand. Their mouths had become semi-permanently attached the second the door to the loft had been locked behind them. He wasn't sure how Blair had known to show up right when he did, but would ask about it later. Blair’s hands ripped open Jim’s shirt and buttons flew everywhere, causing him to chuckle, even though he didn’t let up on the kissing. Blair’s mouth was heaven and he delved into it over and over, tongue thrusting into the wet heat and tracing over the palate to cause Blair to shiver and moan.

He knew he wasn’t the only possessive one just then, not after the encounter with the strangers in the diner. Jim didn’t know if they were going to leave, or decide to come clean in order to get the help they so clearly needed, but didn’t really care just then.

Blair finally got Jim’s jeans undone and they fell to the floor with a thump. He stepped out of them, glad he’d gone commando though he normally didn’t. Blair pulled his mouth free of Jim’s and attacked one of his nipples, sucking and biting it mercilessly, prompting Jim to arch and groan. “Fuck, Blair!”

Straightening up, Blair gave him a wicked grin and said, “Soon, Jim, real soon. Get in bed, I’ll be right there.”

And even though he felt somewhat ludicrous sporting an erection, bare-assed in his living room with his shirt hanging off his cast, Jim did as he was told. He walked upstairs to the bedroom, actually glad that his jeans weren’t constricting him any more. Getting comfortable on the bed took some doing, fairly sure that he wanted his arm supported, even in the slightly smaller cast than it had been in. He propped pillows up under it, and himself, and waited.

Jim’s mouth went dry when Blair came up the stairs a few minutes later, completely naked, and he licked at his lips. He hadn’t been himself the last time they’d been together, as incredible as he remembered it being, and hadn’t technically seen Blair naked and horny before.

“You look like you’re a little hungry there, Jim,” Blair murmured with a wicked grin. “You’re going to have to wait, though, because it’s my turn now.”

There was more than a little animal grace to Blair as he climbed onto the foot of the bed and crawled up over Jim. He kissed and licked his way up Jim’s legs, alternating between them until he came to the straining shaft. Settling down on his stomach, he nosed at the heavy balls just below and Jim gasped, sensation surging through him, pulling one of his legs up to grant better access.

It was sweet torture, the way Blair explored that one part of his body with mouth and nose, breathing in deeply before taking a tentative swipe with his tongue. Hesitation was banished after that one lick and Jim groaned as Blair sucked on the head of his cock. Fingers played lightly with his balls as his lover fed on the hard flesh and all Jim could do was lie there and accept the pleasure give so willingly to him. His entire body tingled in response and a minor flare of alarm surfaced, remembering it as the precursor to changing. He closed his eyes, fighting it, wanting to be with Blair as his lover wanted him to be; a man. “Stop! Blair!”

Blair gave a startled squawk then laughed in surprised delight, causing Jim to open his eyes and gape at his own body. His cock was longer and slightly thinner than before and sported tiny little barbs all over it.

“All this for me?” Blair crowed, eyes bright.

Jim grabbed a pillow and hit his lover in the face with it, growling, “It’s not funny, Sandburg!”

Something that sounded suspiciously like a giggle escaped before Blair managed to clear his throat and give Jim an almost composed look. “Sorry. Um, just, you know.”

“Sandburg, so help me, if you start laughing again...!”

Still smiling, honest love and humor mingling in the warm blue eyes that gazed at him, Blair leaned in and kissed him deeply, kneeling beside him. Responding despite his irritation and bewilderment, Jim’s good arm wound about Blair’s waist, pulling him in close so he could taste more of his lover. He caught some of his own flavor on Blair’s tongue, but ignored it, possessing the smaller man with a hunger that banished the rest of his ill-will.

Blair moaned, no longer laughing, thankfully, and squirmed against him. Jim’s arm tightened, thinking that he was trying to get away, but Blair only shifted so that he straddled Jim’s lap. To outward appearances, Jim’s cock was very different, but it still felt the same to Jim. He still needed to be buried as deep in his mate as he could, as fast as possible. Keeping firmly in mind that this was only Blair’s second time, Jim stopped the kiss and reached over to the nightstand with his good hand, pulling out the lube. He’d stocked it there under the assumption that once Blair was out of research mode, there would be a use for it.

“God, Jim, you have no idea how hot you are,” Blair whispered in his ear, biting the lobe sharply. “Want you in me so bad. Can’t believe it’s been three weeks. Why didn’t you just bend me over something and fuck me into passing out?”

Jim groaned at the provocative words and answered, “Because you had your blinders on, Chief. Now shut up and put some of this on me so I can get you ready.”

‘Chief’ came out a lot less sarcastic and irritated than he’d meant. Jim had wanted to convey just how...abandoned...he’d felt with the tunnel-vision focus Blair had employed, but could only look at his lover with tenderness. They both had their faults, God knew he did, so waiting a few weeks for this wasn’t, ultimately, a serious hardship.

Blair sobered at that, though, even though Jim continued to look at him with love. Nuzzling at Jim’s throat he murmured, “I’m sorry, Jim, didn’t mean to leave you alone like that. Interrupt me next time, make sure I hear you, okay?”

Jim nodded, sucking at the exposed throat while Blair squirted the lube on Jim’s fingers and his own. Electricity shot through him as Blair’s slick hand carefully surrounded the base of his cock and stroked up the barbed shaft, exploring it cautiously and curiously. Eager for his own exploration, Jim’s finger pushed slowly into Blair’s body, preparing him, loving him with his fingers.

Shuddering at the penetration, a waft of pheromones surging into the air, Blair’s grip on Jim tightened, causing him to moan. God, he wanted to be able to just roll them over and thrust into the amazingly tight hole, to hold Blair with both arms. He was lucky he hadn’t re-broken anything with that move on Mendoff, though, so anything like that would be out of the question in the near future.

Still, there were other ways of possessing someone.

Thrusting a third finger into his lover, Jim bit with bruising force on the slope of Blair’s throat and Blair whimpered, jerking hard in reaction.

“God now, please now, please Jim,” Blair begged, writhing against his chest.

Staring into Blair’s eyes, Jim nodded and together, they guided his cock into Blair’s body; Jim’s hand steadying Blair on his hip and Blair aiming Jim’s cock within him. A pained cry escaped Blair and Jim whispered, “It’s okay, we have time, go slow.”

Blair swallowed convulsively and nodded, curls sticking to his sweat-dampened throat. Jim’s good hand stroked up and down the curve of Blair’s spine, soothing, and he kissed every inch of bare skin he could reach as Blair slowly dropped down on him. Gravity aided in the penetration and Blair moaned in a combination of pain and pleasure as he sank all the way down on the hard shaft, flush to Jim’s body.

For a long time, they stayed like that, kissing deep and wet, bodies pulsing in time, the lust subsumed by the love and need to be connected. Blair’s hands roamed over Jim’s torso, exploring and pinching and rubbing the smooth skin. Feeling and caressing the muscles with eagerness. Jim fingered his lover’s opening where it was joined to him, then moved to grip Blair’s cock. Blair shook at the contact, crying out as Jim stroked his dick, urging his pleasure to overwhelm the pain.

Panting, Jim said harshly, “Need you, Blair, need to move.”

Blair nodded almost frantically and rose up on his knees, hissing at whatever pain the movement caused him inside, but then slammed down on Jim without any apparent care. Jim’s breath hitched as Blair repeated the forceful fucking, taking him in a way that he’d never expected. Blair was riding him, it was Jim’s cock inside Blair, but he was the one being possessed. His hand clenched on Blair’s shaft, pulling and twisting on it almost viciously, knowing that he wouldn’t last for long.

And there it was again...

The colors exploding behind his eyes as he came, spilling hard and deep inside Blair, the roar of the connection, the merging. Hearing Blair, knowing it was Blair in his head, knowing that Blair was keening his release but using no words for it as his fingers dug painfully and unheeding into Jim’s shoulders, both of them, slamming himself down, one last time.

Jim lost himself in the blinding light and swirl of colors, listening to his lover’s panted thought of...mine, mine, no one else’s, nevereverevereveranyoneelse, neverevereverleaveme...