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Cascade P.D. Blue: Man in a Uniform #3 by JC

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Cascade P.D. Blue: Man in a Uniform #3

by JC

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Author's disclaimer: The characters from the TV series "The Sentinel" are not my property,
and I am not making money off of them. That's all I have to say.

Cascade P.D. Blue: Man in a Uniform #3 by J.C.

Blair shifted his weight from foot to foot, trying not to appear nervous, trying not to be nervous as he stood under the streetlamp in the middle of the night. He had a strong urge to go to the bathroom, and if his ride didn't show up soon, he would be forced to step into that darkened alley behind him, and relieve himself against the side of the building. Not an appealing idea in this neighborhood. Where the hell was that guy?

The sight of the police cruiser coming down the street made him feel a little better. In fact, it was most welcome on this seemingly deserted street at 3:00 in the morning. When the car pulled into the entranceway to the alley and stopped beside him, that sense of wellbeing faded a little. A cop could be a help, but a cop could also be trouble. As he watched the police officer step from the vehicle, Blair saw a neon sign flash on in his mind. Trouble. Big trouble. Trouble with a capital T. Tall, hard, dressed in the light blue/dark blue uniform of Cascade's finest, badge flashing on his chest; the guy radiated magnetism. And Blair found himself moving, drawn forward.

Officer Ellison was on patrol, and warning bells went off as soon as he saw the young man standing on the corner in front of the abandoned warehouse. He pulled in beside the kid, running through the possible scenarios in his head. Drug deal, maybe? Buyer, not seller. The guy looked nervous enough. Or he could have been a prostitute, but he was wearing too many clothes, and there wasn't enough through traffic to make it worth while, unless he had a scheduled appointment. As he got out of his car, the kid started towards him, moving closer, and his cop instincts laughed. Those internal alarms didn't have anything to do with criminal detection. It was hormones, pure and simple. Walking towards him was an image he could jerk off to for many nights to come.

Blair started to walk around to the front of the police car when a deep voice stopped him in his tracks.

"Stop right there! Hands where I can see them."

"Hey man, cool. I'm just..."

"Up against the wall."

Blair backed up against the wall, hands held in plain view, eyes totally trained on the cop, all protests dying in his throat. The air seemed suddenly thicker as the officer moved forward.

"You got I.D.?"

"Hey, man. I'm just a guy whose car broke down. It's up the street, but all of the lights are broken up there, so I walked down here. I'm waiting for a friend to pick me up."

The cop stepped closer still, and Blair instinctively moved back, trying to press himself into the brick behind him. He found that he was now standing in shadows, but the streetlight still illuminated the policeman's approach. His breath caught at the sight, authority in every step of the uniform-clad figure, and then the cop was in his face.


"Yeah, man. It's in my front pocket. I'll..."

He was cut off by the feel of strong fingers probing tantalizingly close to his groin. He felt his cock jump, pulsing in the direction of the unexpected invaders. 'Oh shit. I am in trouble.'

The officer was strongly tempted to caress the throbbing heat trapped in the kid's jeans, but he fought it, and simply pulled out the young man's wallet. Opening it, he removed the driver's license. 'Blair Sandburg. Age 23. 5'9". Brown hair. Blue eyes.' His gaze flickered back and forth from the picture to the person, sizing up the details in real life, noting that the kid had lied about his height. The young man standing before him had his hair tied back, but in the photo, it was loose. A wild mass of waves surrounding a strong, expressive face. He replaced the license, positive that the young man was clean, finding no reason to detain him any longer. All he had to do was give the kid a warning about hanging out in bad neighborhoods in the middle of the night, and get back to patrolling his territory.

His mistake was in not handing Sandburg back his wallet. Pushing the limits of his control, recklessly ignoring his common sense, he put the wallet back where he had found it. Right next to the now super-hard length of Blair Sandburg's cock. And it was all over but the shouting. Powerless to stop it, he palmed the hardness, rubbing it roughly through the denim, his other hand still caught inside Blair's front pocket.

All of Blair's breath left him in a gasp. Oh, man! He was going to break, burst, explode and shatter. He was harder than he had ever been before, practically straining at the seams of his jeans. Straining towards the firm hand rubbing him, pushing him to the edge of a glorious place. Suddenly he became aware of a stiff object bumping against his hip. He reached for it, wondering how the cop had managed to free himself when he was still freaking locked inside his pants. He choked back a hysterical cry when his hands grabbed hold and he realized it was the cop's nightstick hanging from his belt. Definitely not enough blood left above his waist to fuel his brain. But, he was clear-headed enough to register the hands now fumbling to undo his pants, and the blessed relief as his cock was finally brought out into the open air.

He closed his eyes, trying to hold on to his last bit of control, almost losing that when he heard the sounds of the cop unfastening his own pants. He reached out, anxious to touch bare flesh, leaning forward to get closer...only to grip air. Surprised, his eyes flew open, and be barely caught himself from falling to the ground where only a moment before there had been a police car.

Blair jerked in his sleep, the motion enough to bring him fully awake. He moaned softly at the low ache in his groin. 'Man, what a dream.' Still groggy, he threw back his blankets, shivering slightly when he was exposed to the air, and sat up on the edge of his bed to think. After a long moment, he left his room, and headed upstairs.

He had thought to wake Jim. Shake him gently by the shoulder, pull him from sleep, and talk to him while, hopefully, his guard was down. But as he got to the top of the stairs, he saw that Jim was already awake. Moonlight reflected off of the crystal blueness of his eyes, and even though Blair couldn't see the rest of the face clearly, it was no mean feat to fill it in. His mind easily fleshed out the details of that rugged, familiar face. He smiled slightly in the dark as he remembered just how easily. Hell, he could do it in his sleep. His Sentinel. His partner. His best friend.

Although he had been surprised to find Jim awake, he was actually hardly surprised at all by the revelation that suddenly hit him.

"Do you always do that?"


"Listen in on me at night."

Jim's first impulse was to lie, or at least downplay how often he reached out to his partner from his bed, but he wasn't sorry. He wasn't ashamed of the comfort that he got from the sounds of breathing and heartbeat. And he was only slightly embarrassed about what his mind expanded upon. After all, he knew that the dreams Sandburg had been having were way more intense than any thoughts that danced inside his head at night. So, he softly spoke the truth.

"Yeah, I do."

A tremor ran through Blair at that quiet statement. The idea didn't bother him at all. In fact, he thought, it should have occurred to him before, that what he reached for in his dreams, some deeper sort of connection, Jim could actually almost accomplish with his senses. And knowing that Jim had needed that as much as he had, had wanted it, was fine with him. More than fine. In the face of that, he simply spoke a truth of his own.

"I love you."

Jim was totally caught off guard by the wave of absolute relief that washed over him. Those had been his last words to Blair before going off to bed and leaving the younger man to his thoughts. He knew Blair loved him, that they loved each other. Even though neither one of them had said it before that night, it had been expressed in hundreds of other things that had been said, in hundreds of things that had been done. But Jim hadn't realized how much he needed to hear it. Those words, in that voice, from those lips. Blair actually saying it.

Of course, it wasn't that simple, there had to be more, or else he wouldn't have gone to bed alone in the first place, and sure enough, Blair continued.

"What we talked about earlier...? I didn't really need to think about it. I mean, we both know that I'm attracted to you. And I didn't need to think about whether I loved you, either. I've loved you in different ways through different stages almost since I've known you." He swallowed audibly, almost afraid to say what came next. "It was the two together. I know what that means to you. What you would want out of it. I wasn't sure...well, you know how my relationships have been." He stepped closer to the bed, kneeling down to soak up the image of Jim's face. The face of the man he knew he was in love with. "I don't want to hurt you, or disappoint you."

Jim accepted Blair's closeness as an invitation. He wanted to touch him, and extended a hand to explore new territory. A lip, an ear, something for his extra sensitive fingertips to learn, but he settled for laying his hand on a familiar shoulder.

"I want whatever you'll give me, Chief," recognizing the lie as soon as he said it. He would take whatever, but he would always want it all.

"We both know that's not true. But this is - I want to be your all."

Blair leaned in, kissing Jim's lips, swallowing the Sentinel's sigh, and tasted love for the first time.