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You Know Who

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Introduction: This is a sequel to my previous work, The Haunted Grove. (Oh, and before I forget, both stories may be archived.) I almost hesitated to post this one so soon, lest my readers get the impression that I am an astonishingly rapid writer - such is not the case, I just happened to have this one almost ready to go by the time The Haunted Grove was in posting shape. What I'm saying is that readers who are looking for a story a week from Miss Emma are sure to be disappointed. In fact, I have no Sentinel stories in the works right now, so this should be the last one for a while.

Disclaimer: The characters in this non-profit piece of fanfic are the possessions, body and soul, of Pet Fly Productions. Sigh.

And once again, I'm not who I say I am, but Taffy knows how to reach me...

You Know Who

by "Emma Woodhouse"

Well, Dana didn't know for sure. She told Blair, there could very well have been mammoth hunters camped in the area now known as Cascade, back around the time of the last Ice Age. But nothing had been dug up, at least not around here.

So there was actually no proof one way or the other.

Blair didn't really care. He had an open mind, and could believe all manner of things. He could easily believe that his partner had made some sort of psychic contact with an ancient Sentinel from a tribe of mammoth hunters. But he could just as easily believe that Jim had found a way to rationalize his own bisexuality. Jim's background was a lot more 'plain vanilla' than Blair's, so perhaps he needed to believe that a Sentinel was supposed to mate with his Guide, needed the sanction of ancient tradition for the feelings he felt for his partner.

Results were what mattered, and since Jim was now Blair's lover, Blair liked those results just fine. Every now and then, he would say a silent blessing to the old mammoth hunter Sentinel, just he case he really had existed.

Mated for life, that's what Jim kept saying. The whole concept of lifelong monogamy was so foreign to Blair, so exotic - it was really exciting. And rather - arousing.

Blair liked the way his life was going. He felt very settled down now, which was something he had never expected to feel. It was a nice feeling, to actually belong somewhere, with someone, very connected, protected, and wanted.

Life was good. It was almost like a beer commercial.



Something had gone wrong, but Samantha couldn't figure out what. Things had been going along nicely, and she had thought that Blair was proving to be quite trainable.

The exertions he expended over the birthday present fiasco had seemed to indicate that he was willing to accept her direction, and her definition of what was important. The early stages of the plan had been green light all the way.

And once she'd convinced Blair of the importance of such little attentions as birthdays, anniversaries, expensive dinners and presents, she had planned to gently convince him that a man as intelligent as he was really wasting his talents working with and studying a police department. Even if he proved to be stubborn about staying in the field of anthropology, well, Sam had done some research, and there were areas where anthropologists were quite well compensated.

But several weeks ago, the entire plan had run off the rails, and Samantha couldn't understand why. Blair just wasn't playing anymore.

Like right now. They were returning from a long lunch, but Sam knew it had just been two friends going out to lunch - there hadn't been a whiff of 'date' about it.

She couldn't even believe that Blair was playing hard to get. It wasn't at all as if he were ignoring or avoiding her, he always seemed glad to see her, happy to talk to her - but the You Woman, Me Man dynamic was totally missing.

And now he was going on and on about some damn dusty boring old dig in Idaho, and mammoth bones and spear points, as if she was actually interested in it! He'd made several references to a Dana at the university, and at first Sam had perked up, seeing an attempt to make her jealous.

But no, Blair hadn't said anything about how bright and attractive Dana was, she was just his reference for the information about the Idaho dig.

Honestly, who cares?!



As Blair and Samantha ambled down the hall, they were passed by a brisk man dressed in a white uniform. The man was carrying an enormous bouquet of long-stemmed red roses in a pearly white vase, and Sam sighed enviously. Looks like *somebody* knows how to treat a girl.

The man with the roses stopped a passer, asking, "Major Crimes?" and was pointed to the end of the hall.

Blair and Samantha entered the Major Crimes bullpen, just as Brown was saying, "Over there," and the roses were deposited on Jim Ellison's desk.

The event was a major catalyst for whoops and comments. "Whoo, boy, Jimmy - doin' goooood!"

"Jim, my man, what *is* your secret?"

Ellison put down the file he'd been studying, and examined the envelope attached to the bouquet. "These aren't for me," he said with a slight smile. "They're for Sandburg."

More whooping greeted this announcement, and Blair headed over to the desk, looking stunned but pleased.

He opened the envelope, and managed to scan the attached card, before Brown snatched it neatly from his fingers.

"I love you - You Know Who," Brown recited aloud, and Blair snatched the card back and put it in his pocket before Brown could study it closer and recognize Jim's handwriting.

"She's a poet, whoever she is," Davis commented.

"Come on, Professor," Brown said with a grin, "tell us the story. We want details."

"Well, you're not going to get them," Blair said, slipping into his seat and smiling mistily at his roses.

Samantha exited quietly. As she headed back to the Forensics Lab, she made a note to herself. Men liked to get flowers too. She'd know better next time.

Oh well, there was always Sommers in the D.A.'s office.



Blair studied his schedule, and decided he had time to swing by the loft and drop off his roses before heading to the university to administer a test. So he packed up his backpack and grabbed his flowers and departed amid a chorus of comment.

After he was gone, Brown stopped by Ellison's desk. "Okay, Jim, what's the story? Tell us about the new girl."

Jim looked up in mild surprise. "How would I know? Sandburg's personal life is his own business."

Brown snorted. "And you call yourself a detective! You just don't have the instincts, man."

Davis joined them. "Well, let's try to figure it out ourselves - we're detectives, right?"

"That's one theory," Jim scoffed.

Miller ambled over with a coffee cup. "Well, let's see - she's, ummm - a redhead."

"No *way*, Joe!" Davis protested. "No woman would send flowers that clash with her hair! I'm voting for a blonde."

"Why's that?"

"A brown-haired woman would have sent pink, a black-haired woman would have gone for white. Dark red? She's gotta be a blonde."

Miller nodded thoughtfully. "Good reasoning. And she's about, oh - five three?"

"Five eleven," Brown amended.

"Five *eleven*?!"

"Sure! Haven't you noticed how the tall ones seem to go for the Little Professor? Makes me *some* jealous, man. And I'll bet she wears spike heels, too."

"Alright. And she's a law student."

"Nope. A doctor. Cardiologist, probably - knows all about hearts."

"No, how about this? She's a grad student in anthropology. Her thesis is on sexual positions through the ages. Sandburg is helping her research."

A round of approving yelps indicated that the detectives felt that they had solved the case. And then a silence fell. Jim swivelled his chair to see Captain Simon Banks standing in the door of his office, scowling at the assembly.

"Since no one seems to have any work to do," Banks said, "I guess I won't have any trouble staffing a security detail for the mayor's next soiree."

And suddenly appointments were remembered, files were seized and stared at in intense concentration, and Major Crimes got back to work.

As Simon headed for the coffee pot, he paused at Jim's desk and murmured, "And somehow, I don't think she's a blonde."

Was it Jim's imagination, or did the captain place a slight emphasis on the 'she'?



When Blair entered the loft, he barely had time to throw his keys in the basket by the door before he felt the impact of a large, warm body. Breath knocked out of him, he was pinned to the door, being thoroughly groped and ruthlessly kissed. Strong arms lifted him to kissing range, causing him to stand on tiptoe.

"Mmmph!" was Blair's response.

Now his face was being pressed into a familiar, muscular, sweatshirted chest, and hips were grinding against him. A large hand roughly caressed his long curls, as Jim murmured to the top of his head, "Man, those flowers really backfired."

"What do you mean?" Blair asked the chest.

"The idea was to get *you* all turned on. But after you left, the guys started speculating about your new girlfriend, while I was sitting there getting more and more jealous of this mythical tall blonde graduate student who's doing her thesis on sexual positions."

"Oh. Poor baby." Blair liked what jealousy did to Jim. "And now you need reassurance that you're my one and only, right?"

"You got it," Jim whispered in Blair's ear, on his way to licking Blair's neck.

Blair's breath was rapid and shallow now, and he suggested, "And you're feeling like a complete caveman, and want to order me around to prove that I belong to you."

"You're so perceptive, Chief. That's one of the things I love most about you."

"What are the others?"

"I think we'll - uncover them as we go along - "

They were kissing again, Jim's tongue thrusting into Blair's mouth. Blair loved this feeling, even though kissing Jim standing up always gave him a crick in his neck. It was worth it. He sucked on Jim's tongue in suggestive pulses, and Jim groaned deep in his throat.

Finally, Jim pulled away from Blair with a gasp, grabbed him by the hair, and towed him to the middle of the living room. He kissed Blair again, hard on the lips, and then sat down on the coffee table. He ran his hands up and down Blair's body once, and then sat back. "Okay. Strip."

"Sure." Blair nodded, and began to remove his clothing, trembling a little under Jim's intent stare. He began to fold his shirt neatly, but Jim jerked it out of his hands.

"Never mind that," he said impatiently. "Just get your clothes off."

Now Blair was completely naked, standing in front of Jim with a shy smile, as if hoping for approval, and Jim pulled Blair toward him, running his tongue over the erect nipples.

Blair already had a serious erection going, and judging from the bulge in Jim's sweat pants, he wasn't the only one.

Jim pulled away from Blair, and panted, "On the sofa."

Blair sat obediently on the sofa, and waited for further instructions.

"Lean back," Jim said. "That's right. Now spread your legs."

Blair spread his legs. He shivered. It got him so turned on when Jim ordered him around like this, but this was something new, and Blair wondered what he was supposed to do next.

For a long moment, Jim just stared at Blair, and Blair blushed, feeling completely exposed and vulnerable. Then Jim said, "Okay. Now masturbate."

"Jim - "

"Do it."

Hesitantly, Blair's hand drifted down to his cock, and he jumped in surprise at the intensity of the feeling. Always before, he'd considered jerking off to be a poor substitute for the real thing. But then, he'd never done it under Jim's intense scrutiny before.

Jim leaned forward now, with a bottle of oil. He handed it to Blair, who oiled his hands, and then ran them up and down his erection, arching his back and exclaiming, "OH!"

He was really getting into it now, pinching his nipples with one oily hand, while lightly caressing his cock with the other. He kept his eyes fixed on Jim, knowing he was making his lover crazy, as Jim leaned forward, eyes almost glazed, licking his dry lips as he watched Blair's performance.

Blair had never felt like this before, so entirely bared, giving Jim everything he had, all his actions and emotions, and the psychological nakedness was so intensely arousing he could hardly stand it. He was pumping harder now, and rolling his balls with one hand, trying to keep the contact with Jim's eyes, as he reached down and slipped an oily finger into his anus. Jim was breathing harder, and squirming a bit on the coffee table.

Blair could hardly speak now, but had to tell Jim - "You know, Jim, {pant} I used to wait till it was {pant} real late to jerk off," he managed to say. "And I'd think about you {pant}, and I was always so worried {gasp} that you would hear me - "

Jim said softly, "I heard you, Chief."

And this new knowledge, the total exposure and exquisite humiliation of it, sent Blair wailing over the brink, and he came in ragged spurts all over his chest and belly, arching off the sofa in a shattering orgasm that went on and on and on.

Finally, he collapsed bonelessly on the sofa, and Jim was on his knees in front of him, burying his face in Blair's abdomen, licking up the spent semen and kissing the flushed skin, murmuring broken words of adoration.

Gradually, Blair stopped trembling, and Jim said softly, "You going to survive?"

"I think so."

"Good." Jim sat back, and slapped Blair lightly on the thigh. "Get me a beer," he said briskly.

Blair got to his feet, staggering a little from the aftershocks of his orgasm, and went to the kitchen, thinking with anticipation that Jim's domineering mood didn't seem to be over yet.

He fetched a bottle from the refrigerator and popped the cap. When he returned to the living room, he saw that Jim had moved to the easy chair. Jim motioned to Blair to join him. He was still fully clothed.

Blair took a seat on the arm of the chair, half in Jim's lap, and sighed as Jim's arm went around his shoulder, while the other hand began to lightly fondle his chest hair. He really loved this, when Jim kept his clothes on. It made Blair feel more thoroughly naked, so helpless, abject, and devoted.

"You want to serve me that beer?" Jim asked.

Blair nodded, and held the bottle to Jim's lips.

"No, not that way," Jim said. He took the bottle from Blair, and swung Blair across his lap. Then he took a sip of the beer, and leaned down, fastening his mouth to Blair's. Blair opened his lips under Jim's, and was surprised to receive a mouthful of the cool, sour liquid. He swallowed automatically, and savored Jim's tongue in his mouth, shuddering from the intense eroticism of the act.

Jim swung Blair back up to the arm of the chair, and said, "*That* way."

"Okay," Blair said. He snuggled around his lover, and began to feed him the beer, sip by sip. It took a long time, interrupted often by nibbling lips, sucking tongues, and intense, bruising, beer-flavored kisses.

Jim leaned his head back against the chair cushion, accepting Blair's offering, his hands roaming intrusively all over his lover's body. The body that belonged to him. Blair had an erection now, which Jim stroked lightly, on his way to cupping and fondling Blair's balls, and Blair moaned deep in his throat, as he leaned down to give Jim the last sip of the beer, the bottle slipping unnoticed from his hand.

Jim had Blair's neck in a strong grip now, pressing his lover's lips to his own, thrusting his tongue powerfully into Blair's mouth, while his other hand reached further down, and one finger slid with rapid force into Blair's anus.

Blair squirmed at the invasion, whimpering and pressing against Jim, as the finger moved knowingly, delicately teasing Blair's prostate, increasing the speed of the manipulation as Blair cried out in blind ecstasy, and he was almost, almost, almost -

And the finger was gone.

"JIIIIMMMMM!"

Jim pulled Blair back by the hair, forcing him to make eye contact. "Are you mine?"

"Yes, Jim."

"Do you belong to me?"

"Yes!"

"Always to me, entirely to me, only to me?"

"Yes, yes! Jim, please!"

Jim kissed him hard on the lips, and said mildly, "Well, alright."

He stood up then, depositing Blair on the coffee table. Blair leaned back on his elbows and sighed with satisfaction as Jim started to undress. Finally!

And now Jim was naked at last, standing over Blair, looking ten feet tall from Blair's vantage, and Blair thought deliriously, 'I'm his, I'm his, I belong to him!' Jim's erection looked so big, so hot and hard, and Blair wanted it so bad, wanted to feel the powerful penetration, the hot release inside him - he spread his legs, and wriggled a bit, suggestively, and Jim chuckled.

Jim knelt on the floor, and took Blair by the hips, pulling Blair toward him until his ass was on the edge of the coffee table. He placed Blair's legs over his shoulders, turning to gently kiss a thigh, and Blair sighed happily.

Blair loved all the ways Jim took him, he couldn't decide which position he really liked best, but there was something about this one - something so helpless and undignified, it made Blair feel so thoroughly owned. He licked his lips, watching Jim oil that magnificent erection, and he knew it would be rough, it always was when Jim was in this mood, and his breath was rapid and shallow in anticipation of what was about to happen.

And then Jim took Blair's hips in his hands, and thrust into Blair with one stroke.

Blair whimpered, and moaned, "Oh, yesssss!"

Jim reached down and took Blair's erection in his hand, thumbing the warm liquid from the narrow slit and smoothing it up and down the shaft, inhaling deeply, intoxicated by the odor of Blair's sweat and semen and sheer delirious arousal.

Almost all the way out, and then all the way in again, and Blair was writhing under Jim's hands, pushing eagerly against Jim, and Jim caught his mood and the smooth thrusts became a rapid pounding, as the two bodies came together in fierce union. Both men were shouting now, shouting without words, trying to merge completely into one being, and Blair wanted all of Jim, every part of him, and Jim wanted to occupy Blair completely, and totally possess him.

Through the haze of his own desire, Jim looked down at Blair, totally his, impaled and loving it, out of control and out of his mind, and his hand tightened on Blair's shaft, and Blair was screaming now, pushing up against Jim with insane intensity, spurting through Jim's hand and splattering Jim's face and neck, and now Jim was coming with a hoarse roar that threatened to raise the roof.

When they came to, they were on the floor, wrapped in one another's arms.

Blair said weakly, "Wow."

Jim muttered, "Yep."

After a few minutes, Jim managed to move to the easy chair, pulling Blair up and onto his lap. He wrapped his arms around Blair and tucked Blair's face into his neck, saying with a sigh, "Oh, kid, what you do to me!"

"Oh, so it's *my* fault!" Blair tried to sound indignant, but the effect was ruined by the tiny kisses and licks he was administering to Jim's throat and ear.

"Wonder if the neighbors called the cops?" Jim speculated.

"Hey, you *are* the cops," Blair reminded him.

"Oh, yeah, that's right," Jim said in assumed wonder.

"If the patrol cops show up, you could always tell them all the noise was just a new style of martial arts," Blair suggested. Then he lifted his face from Jim's neck and snickered. "Well, maybe not with that stuff on your face." He began to clean Jim's face with a delicate tongue. Like a cat, Jim thought, tightening his arms around his adored mate.

Blair finished his task, and patted Jim's face approvingly. "There," he said. "Well, are you feeling reassured now?"

"Totally."

But Jim was looking rather embarrassed, so Blair nudged him, asking, "What?"

"Oh ... I just can't help ... why do you put up with me when I get that way?"

Blair stared at Jim in blank astonishment. "Isn't it obvious? Because I *love* it when you get that way!"

"Really?"

"Really."

Jim thought about it for a minute. "What if I told you that you couldn't wear any clothes until tomorrow?"

Blair shivered deliciously. Then he nodded submissively and said, "I'd say, 'Yes, sir.'"


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