Delaying Gratification Part Three
Delaying Gratification Part One and Delaying Gratification Part Two
* * *
Jim was ready. Kim and Johnson were ready. Between the four of them, Blair included, they should be able to arrest that horny bastard without much trouble. And Jim needed to get inside before the S.O.B. put Blair through any more humiliating actions.
Kim had brought the money, the search warrants, and Jim's new ID. They'd gone over the plan; Johnson would cover the back door, Kim the front, until Jim had handed over the money for the forged ID documents and placed Pinkerton under arrest. Then he'd call them on their cell phones and they'd execute the search warrant and see what goodies were tucked away that would add additional evidence to the charges.
Kim gave him a shrewd look while they stood by Jim's truck. “Is he still okay in there, Ellison?” Jim raised an eyebrow, while he checked his Sig-Sauer, and then slid it into his back holster. Handcuffs were secured to be out of sight, but easily retrievable. He grabbed a jacket and pulled it on.
“I don't care, you know. About your senses. Your extra skills were why I agreed to your help. Now, is your partner still okay in there? It's past time for him to come out for a cigarette break.”
“He's... not hurt. But I need to move now, Kim. Blair's a tough guy, but he's unarmed and you know why Pinkerton wants him to model for him. He's stalling the guy, but soon he's going to have to flat out tell him no to sexual advances and Pinkerton's got the advantage on him with weight and height. I'm good to go. Is Johnson in place?”
“He's going to check in on the radio. I'm going to get into position, and when you see me nod, make your move.”
A nod would be too subtle for anybody but a sentinel to catch, but Jim wasn't going to deny that it wouldn't be a problem for him.
“See you on the inside.”
* * *
He stepped into the store, the loud bell announcing his presence. Walking past the waiting area, he started walking down the hallway, and called out, “Anybody here?”
A moment later, Pinkerton stepped out into the hallway and waved at him. He met Jim and asked him to wait a moment while he quickly went up front and locked the door.
Pinkerton quizzed him about why he was there and he trotted out the story about doing a favor for his brother-in-law. Pinkerton didn't ask to look at any ID; he seemed distracted and in a hurry.
Jim was ushered into the studio, Pinkerton at his side, and then, involuntarily, he stopped dead. He couldn't help himself. He stared at Blair and saw the hot flush of embarrassment color his partner's face.
Pinkerton laughed, a proprietary sound that echoed in the large room.
“I also do photography, and Jacob there is one of my models. He's a pretty little thing, isn't he? A real street angel, and I'm using his shots for the documentary category for the Cascade Art Show later this summer. Ah, hang on a minute. I need a moment to get the materials ready. I'll be right back.”
Blair was fastening his shirt back up, fingers clumsy on the buttons at the bottom of his extra-large white dress shirt, the dull red tinting his face fading. He was naked under the shirt, the tails long enough to come down halfway down his thighs. There were twenties and fives sticking up out of his shirt pocket.
Blair moved towards Jim, and Jim wanted so badly to touch him, to enfold him in his arms. But they both had a job to do. Blair shot him a relieved look and then went to the far wall where clothes were piled in an untidy heap on a chair.
Jim heard the sound of the safe in the office opening, and Pinkerton shuffling papers.
Pinkerton came out, a manila envelope in his hand, and he frowned when he saw that Blair had left the bench and was standing with his jeans in his hand.
“Excuse me. Here. You can look over these. I need to talk to my boy over there for a minute.”
He strode over to Blair and took the jeans out of his hands. “What are you doing, baby?” He spoke softly enough that Jim wouldn't overhear him, if Jim had had normal hearing. Blair kind of shrunk away, and looked down.
“I, I just wanted to put my jeans on while that guy is here.”
“But I told you to stay on the bench, and to keep touching yourself. If I had wanted you to stop, I would have told you to stop. You're just going to have to try harder to follow my instructions. Now, put those down and come over here to me.” Blair dropped the jeans and moved closer to Pinkerton, who touched Blair's lips. Lips that were fuller even than normal thanks to the dusky red lipstick he was wearing.
Jim wanted to cut the man's fingers off. Luckily, Pinkerton quit playing around with Blair's mouth, so Jim shoved that impulse way, way down inside of himself.
The controlling bastard shook his head at Blair, in the manner of someone scolding a kid. “Sometimes I invite a friend or two over to share my boys and from the way my customer's jaw dropped when he looked over your way, married man or not, he was very taken with you. I'm going to give you a little test, baby.” He lifted Blair's chin. “Now, you know that I'm going to pay you very well to do what I want. Remember this morning? How cold and miserable you were? Do you want that again? Because the money in your pocket won't last long, will it? You owe people, don't you? And once it's gone, you're back to begging for money for blow jobs and dodging the police. You need me, Jacob. And if you do what I ask, then I'll take good care of you. I bought you clothes today, didn't I? I fed you lunch. Now, are you going to be obedient, or do I kick you to the curb?”
Jim could see Blair's throat muscles working, as he swallowed hard. “I'll be good. But Michael... Um... I've never been fucked by a guy before. I don't really want to do that. It hurts, doesn't it? Do I really have to?”
Pinkerton laughed delightedly. “Oh, you really are a baby, aren't you? Yes. I'm going to fuck you, sweet little virgin. I'm going to take your cherry right there on that bench. And it might hurt a little, but I'll be careful with you. I'll make it feel good.” He bent down and kissed Blair on the mouth, a dirty, open-mouthed kiss that had Jim seething. As soon as the money had been transferred, he was putting Pinkerton on the ground so fast that the guy's head would be swimming.
Blair looked a little sick to Jim's eye. And when Pinkerton told him what he wanted him to do for the 'test', he looked even more upset, but he just shrugged his shoulders and told Pinkerton it’d be no problem.
Pinkerton wiped the lipstick Blair had gotten on him off on his sleeve, and then produced a tube from his pocket. He elaborately applied the color to Blair's lips again, repairing what the kiss had smudged, then he took Blair by the hand and brought him to Jim.
“I couldn't help but notice that you seem interested in Jacob. So I thought I'd let you have a closer look. We've been having some fun with gender bending this afternoon. Isn't he gorgeous this way? The eyeliner and eye shadow really adds depth to his big blue eyes. And his mouth. It's positively sinful. So full and red, and luscious in that color. I chose this oversized shirt so that he looks a bit lost in it. White for purity. And he's wearing his own earrings. I think the photos will show him looking both innocent and wanton and so very fuckable that his gender is irrelevant.” Pinkerton grinned at Jim, like they were two old buddies.
“I'm going to fuck him tonight. His first time, he tells me. But he needs to learn to do what I say, and I've told him to ask you if you'd like to warm him up for me. I'll watch, of course. You can kiss him, touch him anywhere you want, and he'll give you a hand job. Sorry, but I haven't experienced his mouth for myself yet, so I'm going to be selfish about that.”
Pinkerton pulled Blair close to him, wrapped an arm around his waist. “Go on now, baby. Ask the nice man if he'd like to play with you.”
Jim was going to murder the son of a bitch. And nobody would ever find the body.
“Look, that's a sweet offer, but I've got a brother-in-law who needs these documents right now. So, no thanks, kid. Now can we finish up here?” Jim put an impatient spin to his words, and Pinkerton let Blair go.
“As you wish. Step into my office, and, Jacob, you wait right here.” Jim followed the kinky bastard into the office and sat down across the desk from him.
They went over the agreed upon amount, then Jim counted out the money on the desk. Pinkerton watched greedily as Jim shoved the money over to him. The man placed the marked bills in a leather bank bag, and thanked Jim for doing business with him.
“If you don't mind stepping out and keeping my boy company for a moment I'll be just a moment in here, and then I'll unlock the door and let you out.”
Jim nodded. It would be better to arrest him in the studio since this office was too crowded with furniture. As soon as Pinkerton stepped out of here, Jim would slam him up against the wall and cuff him, then make him lie down on the floor. Blair would back him up and they'd call Kim in to do the actual arrest. It was his case, after all. Besides, Jim really didn't feel like hassling with more paperwork than absolutely needed; the sooner he and Blair could get out of here and go home, the better.
He heard Pinkerton open the safe, and he kept an eye on the door, standing in the best position to grab Pinkerton when they would head towards the hallway.
He was keenly aware of Blair. God, he looked so damn hot. So beautiful. Jim had never seen him this way and he regretted keenly that he and Blair had never thought to play around like this, because Blair would hate looking this way ever again, and damn Pinkerton for that. Damn him for embarrassing Blair and making touching him dressed like this into something dirty and wrong.
Blair was quiet, subdued, still being Jacob, and Jim understood completely how undercover work could take you down into places you didn't know you had. Jacob was on the cusp of truly falling into street life and Blair had been excellent in that role. And it could be hard to stop, to break apart that person you'd become and have your true self re-emerge.
But then Blair looked at him and winked. Jim felt relieved. He'd told Kim that Blair was a tough guy, and he was. He was smart and capable and he would shake this off and they'd go home and everything would be okay.
Pinkerton opened the door. And aimed a gun right at Jim's face.
* * *
“Hold your arms to the side, Detective Ellison. Oh, yeah, I remembered who you were. Took me a while, but I started to think you looked familiar when you were counting out the money. We printed your picture for the awards banquet for Cop of the Year. And I've seen you on TV before. I've got a good memory for faces, usually. Guess I was distracted for a while. I'm not now, though, so don't do anything rash because I'll blow you away.”
Jim looked hard at the man, assessing his chances of jumping him. He wasn't close enough to grapple with him yet. But Blair, if Pinkerton hadn't tumbled to Blair being a cop, Blair would pull some rabbit out of his ass. It was what he did.
“Don't make any stupid moves, Pinkerton. Your best bet is to lay down that gun and get a lawyer.”
“You think I haven't prepared for this possibility? I've got ID and money ready to go. Where's my brother?”
“Arrested by now. Give it up; the place is surrounded.”
“I can get out. It's dealing with you that's the problem. Jacob. Search him. He's bound to have a gun. Ellison, put your hands on top of your head. Go on, baby; check him out, find the gun, and bring it to me.”
“Me? Uh, I don't like guns very much.” That was the truth. Blair didn't like guns, not really, but he was more than competent with them and had long ago accepted the necessity of using one in police work.
“Go on, baby. I'm watching him. Stand to the side and reach inside his jacket.”
Blair did so and brought out Jim's gun. He held it like he was afraid it was going to bite him. And while Pinkerton's attention was focused on Jim, Blair deftly let the safety off as he moved to the man's side.
Pinkerton stuck his hand out for the gun, but in a fluid motion, Blair brought it up under the man's chin.
“Cascade P.D., asshole. Drop the gun or I'll blow your head off.”
Pinkerton started to turn, shock in his eyes, but Blair jabbed him hard.
“Michael. I can't miss. And you know, I'm pissed about how you've treated Jacob the last two days, you manipulative bastard. Do you really want to make a stupid move, because I will shed no tears for pulling the trigger. You're holding a gun on an officer; I can shoot you right now and IA won't even blink about it.” Blair's voice rang out with authority. “Now. Lower the gun. And I'll let you live.”
Pinkerton did it. And his Blair, dressed in nothing but a large shirt, barefoot, looking like an escapee from Never-Never Land with his wild hair and earrings and oh-so-kissable lips, made Pinkerton get down on his knees, while Jim confiscated the gun. When Pinkerton was cuffed and face first down on the floor, Blair continued to hold the gun on him while Jim called Kim, and explained that the suspect was cuffed and ready for Kim to read him his rights and execute the search warrant.
“Hey Jim. Take over, will you? I'll get dressed and let in Kim and Johnson.” Blair gave Jim his gun back and headed towards the chair with his clothes. He quickly pulled on jeans and slipped his sandals back on his feet. He left the shirt alone, though, and used a T-shirt to wipe off the lipstick.
With a look of loathing, he stuffed the money Pinkerton had paid him into his jeans.
Jim listened as his partner let Kim in the front door, and briefed him. When he returned with Johnson he'd found a rubber band somewhere and had pulled his hair back.
Kim took over then, read Pinkerton his rights, and showed him the search warrant before he sent him to Booking with Johnson and a couple of uniforms. Jim suspected it was because he didn't trust Jim to take Pinkerton in without maybe bashing his head a few times. And probably he didn't trust Blair to do it, either. Smart man, Kim.
At least Pinkerton had kept his mouth shut before being hauled off, probably afraid of saying something that might incriminate him, but it had made it easier on Blair for the guy to be silent. Jim was going to have a long talk with his partner later, make sure that this experience hadn't hurt him. But for now they had a shitload of plain old boring police work to get through.
The three of them handled the search through the building, and tagged damn near everything in the back office, typewriters and the computer included. It took them a couple of hours, but it looked like there would be plenty of evidence to make the DA happy.
During a coffee break - they'd made a pot back in the kitchen - Blair dug the money Pinkerton had given him out of his pocket and passed it to Kim, asking that it be donated to the Police Widows and Orphans Fund.
Kim agreed, looking at Blair's eyes with a concerned look on his face. Jim knew he had to be seeing the eye makeup that Blair still wore. Kim had been keeping an ear to the ground about the Pinkerton's sideline business for quite a while; he'd no doubt heard rumors about Michael’s preferences in sexual partners. And Blair had been with Michael Pinkerton all of today and alone with him after the brother had left. Out on the street, Kim had asked Jim if Blair was okay in there. He had probably known the kinds of things that the guy would try to pull on his new street boy.
Kim took Blair off by himself, then, and Jim gave them privacy. When they came back, Kim said he was recommending to Banks that Blair be placed on paid leave for the next two days, because of the undercover work he'd done. He'd taken his preliminary statement and the rest could wait. Jim, though, needed to come down to the station, to do some paperwork on both this case and the arson case.
“I'm sending your partner home - your home, I believe - he needs some time to readjust before coming into the station. He did a good job today. Hell, he saved your bacon and kept the case from exploding into bloodshed. I'll let Banks know, in writing, how much his undercover work helped break this case. I'm not sure about all of what Pinkerton tried on Blair, but you watch out for him. Get him help if he needs it. Drive him home, and I'll meet you at the station. I want your input on questioning the Pinkertons.”
* * *
“Jim, can I ask you something? And will you be honest with me?” They were almost home, and Jim had driven it with Blair tucked against his side.
“I'll try. What do you want to know?”
“I saw your face when you saw me in the studio. Were you acting for Pinkerton's benefit or were you really turned on by what I was wearing. Because it seemed to me that you were turned on.”
“I, uh. I was definitely turned on. What about you? Did it disgust you to be wearing makeup and that shirt?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, I'm sorry he made you do that. Can I help you not feel weird about it?”
“I said yes because I was wearing it for him. But you know, he showed me some of the pictures he took with the digital camera, and if I'm being objective I'd have to say I found the gender bending part interesting. I might want to try that again sometime - just not right now. But only if you liked me like that.”
“I did. And if you decide to play that game someday, I'll play right along with you. But if the thought of wearing lipstick and eyeliner makes you uncomfortable, makes you feel like Jacob, then don't do it for my benefit. I wouldn't like that at all, Blair. You should do it because you want to do it, not because I think you were hot, dressed like you were.” Blair chewed his lip, looking thoughtful.
Jim cleared his throat. “And by the way, thanks again for saving my ass tonight. Pinkerton met the real you, when you held that gun on him, and he believed every word you spoke.”
Blair sighed, a tired sound that hit Jim's protective buttons. “Undercover work is hard. I really was that poor loser kid for a while. And you know, Jacob probably would have stayed with Michael, would have become his little bitch. Michael is a sexual dominant. Jacob was pretty submissive. They probably would have ended up compatible, if they had gotten together.”
Jim turned onto Prospect. He hoped he wouldn't be too long at the station. He was in serious need of sleep himself, and he wanted to be with Blair, hold him, and let the anger and concern he'd felt all day drain away. Blair didn't say anything until Jim pulled up in front of the loft.
“I might surprise you someday then, Jim. I might call you up and tell you that I'm at home, dressed in one of your shirts - and lipstick. Don't stay too long at work, okay. You're tired, too. God, I can't wait to take a shower.”
He didn't kiss Jim. That was okay. Blair probably wanted to wash away all traces of Michael’s touch. He grabbed Jim's hand and squeezed it, then he opened the truck door and slid out on the sidewalk. He stood and watched as Jim made a U-turn, and headed back down Prospect. He watched until the truck must have disappeared from his sight, but Jim could still see him in his rear view mirror.
* * *
Epilog
Jim picked up his cell phone from the truck seat to silence its racket. Probably Blair, who had declined to tag along for the Saturday afternoon errand run, had something else he wanted Jim to pick up from the store.
It was Blair and he did want Jim to pick some things up. Jesus. He felt his dick start to harden as Blair finished his list, the mischief plain in his voice.
Screw the stop at the hardware store, and picking up his dry cleaning. Blair was feeling playful today, and Jim couldn't wait to find out what he had in mind.
* * *
Blair stood naked in front of their closet, feeling fresh from his shower. But he wasn't interested in his own wardrobe. He was looking for something of Jim's. Something that would be big on him, and crisp, and long sleeved... Ah, maybe that one - he moved hangers to one side and pulled it out into the light.
Light blue with dark blue pinstripes, and roomy even on Jim. He pulled the shirt on, and buttoned it up slowly. It felt good against his bare skin. He shivered a little and felt his dick start to swell.
He wanted to try this with Jim. He wanted to feel exotic and different and to see that deer in the headlight look on Jim's face. He wanted Jim to look at him the way he had in Pinkerton's studio.
And he was going to do this as himself, as Blair Sandburg, not poor little lost Jacob. He'd meditated, he'd processed, he'd done his research, and now he was ready to do some field work.
He looked at himself in the full mirror. This would be what Jim would see, his own shirt on Blair's body, Blair absolutely naked under it. Not just bare skin - Jim saw Blair sans clothing all the time, but naked. He would feel exposed under that shirt, and maybe a little bit shy, waiting for Jim's hands to unbutton the shirt that slid a little bit off of Blair's shoulders and slide his big hands in to palm Blair's nipples.
He shivered again, and went on looking at himself as Jim would see him. Blair's hair was loose, hair curling into its typical wild state as it dried. Maybe he could make some small braids, add some ribbon to it. He'd put beads in his hair before, but never ribbon. Yeah, he thought that would help make him feel a little more gender-bent.
He looked through the box he kept necklaces and earrings and bracelets in, and picked delicate chains and small gold hoop earrings, beautiful, but not what he usually chose to make a statement about who he was.
But he was going to play with gender bending today and deliberately explore a part of himself that he hadn't really wanted to before Michael had made him try it. Being short and having long hair and liking to wear bracelets and necklaces, he had been kidded and teased sometimes, or just plain insulted, about looking like a girl enough that he'd made it a point to stay away from actually blurring the gender lines in his choices of clothing, and he'd never worn makeup before the events of three weeks ago.
Right now, Jim was picking out Blair's makeup. Jim was choosing what shade of lipstick to apply to Blair's lips, and what color of eye shadow to brush over his eyelids. This was going to be a participant-study for both of them.
He waited, a little nervously, for Jim to come home. He was tempted to fire up his laptop, get lost in reading about the psychological aspects of gender versus the biological definition of sexual identity, to ponder about how Jung might say he was letting his inner anima, the internal feminine side of himself, out to play. But if he made this, this 'exploration' of his into a detached academic exercise, it would defeat the entire purpose for him.
He wanted to feel, not to make this experience the basis for a study, or a paper.
He wanted Jim to look at him like he was exotic and sensual, and he wanted Jim to watch Blair's mouth, lushly colored with lipstick, suck Jim's cock, and to see Jim go off like a firecracker.
So he didn't watch TV or boot up his laptop or open a book. Instead, he stood at the balcony window, feeling his need to touch, to be touched, swell and build, waiting for his lover to come to him.
* * *
Jim took the stairs up to the loft, because he wasn't in the mood to have anything slowing him down; he wasn't going to wait for the old elevator to creak its way up to the third floor.
He clutched at the bag holding the makeup Blair had told him to get. Jesus, making his selections had been embarrassing, He'd had to fend off helpful sales clerks who seemed to think he was in over his head. Maybe he'd given them that impression by the way he'd stared so long at the different shades of lipstick and eye shadow. He'd been picturing how this or that tone of deep red or dark pink lipstick would look on Blair's already ridiculously full lips. How eyeliner would subtly alter his eyes, adding something foreign and mysterious to his cheerful and open face.
He'd heard two of the clerks, after he'd denied needing any help once again, speculate that he couldn't be trying to buy something for his wife or girlfriend, because those customers usually threw themselves onto their mercy, grateful for the help.
No, they'd decided he was probably buying something for himself, and they’d watched him covertly, amusement in their eyes.
He wasn't going to tell Blair about that. Blair would find it way too entertaining, and if Blair decided he liked wearing makeup sometimes, then Jim bet that Blair might make him do this part again. God, he hoped Blair would like to do this again. He'd had a low level of arousal that he'd had to keep clamped down ever since Blair had phoned him. But he hoped that Blair would buy his own supplies in the future.
He walked briskly to the loft door, opened it with his key and strode into the room, zeroing in on Blair standing by the balcony doors.
He dropped the bag on the table, and stopped a little in front of Blair, who was smiling shyly at him. He looked cute dressed in just Jim's shirt. And there was something different about his hair - tiny braids and blue ribbons scattered through the soft curls. He was wearing jewelry - well, he usually had on jewelry of some kind - but these bracelets and earrings and necklaces were delicate golds and silvers, not the more typical leather and beads combination he would normally have encircling his neck and wrists.
“Hey,” Jim said, feeling a little awkward, hoping that doing this wouldn't feel weird to both of them.
“I know.”
Jim raised an eyebrow and took a step closer. “What do you know?”
Blair put his arms loosely around Jim's waist. “That this is new territory for us and it feels kind of strange, and kind of exciting and kind of awkward. And you're probably wondering if my head is fucked up from what I did with Michael. I'm okay, Jim. I suppose when you, or any cop who's been undercover, have to do things to stay in character, that we all have to readjust and give ourselves forgiveness for what we did.”
“You didn't do anything wrong, Blair. But I hate that you were trapped and had to play along with Pinkerton. I'm glad that the judge refused bail for the pair of them. They're a flight risk if I ever saw one, probably got a couple of false IDs stashed away. But what do you think you need to forgive yourself about?”
They'd talked about how the case had gone down before today, and how frustrated and angry Jim had been, listening to Blair being touched and humiliated by Pinkerton. Jim had practiced his own form of anger management by substituting a punching bag for Pinkerton's smug face. And Blair, Blair had been thoughtful a lot, had written reams in his journal, and had kept re-affirming to Jim - and Simon and Kim - that while this case had been a learning experience for him, he wasn't screwed up about it. Jim knew that his partner was sleeping fine, wasn't irritable or angry with people, and he sure didn't seem depressed or anxious. So what was this forgiveness deal?”
He looked down into Blair's earnest eyes, waiting for him to go on.
“I forgave myself for becoming Jacob, for burying every assertive trait that I have so that I could become what Pinkerton needed me to be. I let him kiss me and touch me, and talk to me and dress me the way he did so that I could do my job. But I wouldn't have let him fuck me on that bench, Jim. I'd have thought of something to stall him. And I knew you would be there as soon as you could. That helped. But it was also pretty embarrassing when you saw me in the studio. But the look on your face... man. It did something to me, and I want to see if it was just in that moment or if we tumbled onto something maybe a little kinky but cool for us. Because I think I like gender bending, in and of itself.”
He brought his lips up to Jim's, and Jim wrapped his arms tightly around him. Blair gave him one hell of a smooch, then grinned up at him.
“So let's go play. I can't wait to see what's in the bag.”
* * *
Jim was in heaven, being ministered to by his own personal angel. An angel whose head of hair he was gripping as said angel, mouth so very red and lush as he sucked on Jim's cock, kneeled to worship him, leaning against the couch where Jim was sprawled out, naked, legs wide apart so that his angel had plenty of room to work.
And oh God, this was good. So, so good. He flashed on images of Blair from this afternoon. Blair dressed only in Jim's shirt, and Jim sneaking his hands in to touch him while they had made dinner together. Blair kissing his neck and leaving a trail of lip shaped brands against his skin. Blair holding still while Jim had concentrated on using the eyeliner to draw attention to Blair's gorgeous eyes. The look on Blair's face as Jim had slowly uncapped the first lipstick from the bag, something called Raspberry Sorbet, and he had licked his lips, waiting for Jim to apply the lush color.
They'd dragged the touching and kissing and looking at each other out till dark, and eaten and watched a movie, Blair sitting on Jim's lap for most of it, and that wasn't something Blair normally did either, He didn't go out of his way to emphasize that he was a lot smaller than Jim. But tonight, he apparently had decided to relax about it, and he'd been a warm and cuddly bundle in Jim's lap. Jim had teased him, too, small touches on Blair's cock and then he'd kiss Blair's neck, or bite his ear, sucking the small gold hoop into his mouth and making Blair wiggle and squirm and pant, and then he'd stop, with Blair's arousal scent so strongly pouring from him that Jim was getting drunk on it.
Finally, Blair had had enough. He'd picked up the remote and turned the TV off and then tossed it out of Jim's reach. He slid off of Jim's lap and kneeled before him, and unfastened Jim's pants.
“I've let you set the pace so far, Jim, but it's my turn now. I want you naked on this couch and I want you to watch me while I suck you off. And then, you blow me, too. And I don't care where you do me - the couch, the floor, the counter, up in bed, whatever. So move it, lover. Shuck those pants.”
And he had, and Blair had proceeded to do his angel thing and Jim had stood it for as long as he could, mesmerized by Blair's wet and luscious looking mouth moving on his cock, until with a groan and holding fast to Blair's hair, he'd come and come and come.
So. Fucking. Good.
He lay dazed, Blair watching him with a pleased look on his face that said, 'Yes, I am a god, and the king of cock-sucking' and Jim was going to wipe that look right off of Blair's pretty face - because while he was always beautiful to Jim, tonight he was pretty, too - and he was going to take that title right away from Blair and bestow it on himself instead. Once he could move again, that is.
* * *
Blair looked absolutely debauched laid out on the bed, only one button holding the shirt on his body, allowing Jim access to his nipples and belly - he thought he'd pick up a belly chain for Blair to wear for the next time they went on gender-bending safari - and to the cock that was trying so hard to get his attention.
Jim had taken Blair at his word, and had started by pushing Blair down on the floor after he was able to move off of the couch. He'd pinned Blair's legs with the weight of his own body and had leaned down and kissed him everywhere on his face and neck and upper torso - except on the lips. They'd found out earlier in the afternoon that while Blair looked hot and wild and so pretty wearing lipstick, his lips didn't actually taste that good. Jim could have dialed it down, he supposed, but he wanted to experience Blair with his senses turned up, not down.
Blair had cheerfully said that it wasn't a problem and then he'd proceeded to kiss Jim everywhere he could in his attempts to wipe the lipstick off. And when he 'd been lipstick free then epic, lip-locked kissing had ensured.
And when Blair was a mess of hormone driven need on the floor, then Jim had moved him to the counter and boosted him up, and slowly started unbuttoning the loose shirt. Very slowly, and with each button newly undone, he had to re-check his territory with lingering touches that had driven Blair nuts, until he was actually trying to hump the air that Jim's fingers had just passed through.
He was making wailing, plaintive sounds and his eyes were so bright and beautiful, he was just so beautiful, flushed like this and breathing deeply and Jim wanted to keep him this way forever.
But that would be cruel and unusual punishment, and Jim liked to think of himself as a merciful man. And a practical one. If he let Blair have that orgasm while he was laid out like a buffet on the counter, he'd be useless to move on his own. And Jim didn't really want to carry him up to bed.
Which is why he'd held out the promise of finally letting Blair come as the incentive to move upstairs He was ready to give Blair the mercy stroke right now, here in their bed, so that Blair could pass out in peace and Jim could cuddle him while he himself drifted off in slumber.
There was one more thing to do first. Well, two things.
Blair's lips were currently lipstick free and Jim wanted another taste of that sweet mouth before he dolled Blair back up. So he took and he plundered, until he was satisfied and Blair's eyes were nearly as black as his eyeliner.
Then he proceeded to use what the package had called a cream lipstick, aptly named Red Hot Lover, and with a small brush he, oh, so carefully, applied the color to Blair's lips. Blair was panting and trying to reach for his own dick by the time Jim had decided that Blair's lips were perfect, but Jim blocked him until he gave up and just looked up at Jim.
He was gorgeous. Just... gorgeous. Male facets and female elements complimented each other in his features and his lips, naturally full and lovely, were so red and shiny and slick and the slight shadow of his stubble made a yin/yang tableau. Jim leaned over him and Blair gave fervent unintelligible praise as Jim kissed his way down to Blair's cock and took it into his mouth.
Scant minutes later, when Blair came so hard his body lifted into a bow, Jim decided that maybe they could share the title of king of the cock-suckers.
* * *
They'd eaten a leisurely Sunday breakfast and were cleaning up when Blair made his move.
“Say, Jim?” He held up the receipt for the makeup that had been shoved down into the bag. “Did you have any trouble buying my makeup yesterday?”
“No.” Keep it simple, stupid, he told himself. There was no reason to have a conversation about how embarrassing and a little nerve-wracking buying some lipstick and eye makeup had been.
“Oh, really? How long did it take you to decide what to buy me?” Blair smiled, a little wickedly, and Jim remembered that Blair was quite capable of telling time and, shit, just how long had he stood mesmerized by the choices to make before actually buying what he needed. What Blair needed. What he needed Blair to need.
“I don't remember, Sandburg. Hey, want to go shoot some hoops over at the park?”
Blair laughed. It was kind of an evil sound, actually, and Jim definitely was feeling a little wary now. “Oh, maybe. After we finish this conversation. So Jim, tell me - and don't spare the details - what was it like for you to purchase things that are traditionally female items. Did you ask for help?” Jim shook his head. “Was it something that disturbed you or bothered you? Or were you totally cool with it? Did any sales clerks try and help you? C'mon, Jim. Share your research findings.”
“Jesus. The things I put up with from you. I'm just going to do myself a favor and tell you what you want to know so you'll stop being a pain in my ass.” Blair tried to look innocent but Jim knew his partner pretty damn well, every inch of him, and he wasn't fooling Jim one little bit. He was up to something.
“I was trying to keep from popping a boner all the time I was buying that stuff, because I was picturing it on you, and the sales women came to the conclusion that just because I didn't ask them for help that I was buying it for myself.”
Blair chuckled. “Well, maybe we should talk about that, because you know I've always thought your fondness for that hideous apron of yours might conceal some cross-dressing fantasy. Do you want to trade places sometime and we'll use the makeup on you, instead of me?”
Jim had known this question was coming. How could he not have known it, after living with Mr. Curiosity for so many years.
“No, I don't think I'll be wearing any lipstick, because the thought of it on my mouth doesn't turn me on. But I really liked it on you. And quit insulting my apron. It's just an apron, not a lifestyle choice.” Jim walked over to the sink and started filling it with hot water and dirty dishes.
Blair brought him his empty coffee cup to wash.
“Fair enough. Well, about you not wanting to do a little gender bending of your own. But the apron is fair game. It's so ugly that it's kind of cool. But don't think you're off the hook. I want you to be involved the next time I get in the mood to do this again. And it's time for a little payback for making me give you a hand job as your massage therapist while we were being watched by those goons during your undercover case earlier this year.” Blair gave another one of his wicked smiles, and Jim braced himself for whatever was coming.
“So, Jim, you might want to do a little research on the best makeup to buy, something that is free of animal testing, maybe something that uses some organic ingredients, because we've got a partnership going here and I'm only wearing makeup that you're buying me. Fair's fair, after all. And payback's a bitch.”
Then the little shit laughed his ass off. But Jim smacked his butt with a damp towel till he begged for a truce, and then they both left to play some B-ball.
Jim thought to himself that if buying makeup was the price he'd have to pay to see Blair like he was last night in his gender bended glory, then Jim had gotten a hell of a deal. And he guessed he wouldn't really mind Blair's payback much after all.
The End
Laurie
* * *
Jim was ready. Kim and Johnson were ready. Between the four of them, Blair included, they should be able to arrest that horny bastard without much trouble. And Jim needed to get inside before the S.O.B. put Blair through any more humiliating actions.
Kim had brought the money, the search warrants, and Jim's new ID. They'd gone over the plan; Johnson would cover the back door, Kim the front, until Jim had handed over the money for the forged ID documents and placed Pinkerton under arrest. Then he'd call them on their cell phones and they'd execute the search warrant and see what goodies were tucked away that would add additional evidence to the charges.
Kim gave him a shrewd look while they stood by Jim's truck. “Is he still okay in there, Ellison?” Jim raised an eyebrow, while he checked his Sig-Sauer, and then slid it into his back holster. Handcuffs were secured to be out of sight, but easily retrievable. He grabbed a jacket and pulled it on.
“I don't care, you know. About your senses. Your extra skills were why I agreed to your help. Now, is your partner still okay in there? It's past time for him to come out for a cigarette break.”
“He's... not hurt. But I need to move now, Kim. Blair's a tough guy, but he's unarmed and you know why Pinkerton wants him to model for him. He's stalling the guy, but soon he's going to have to flat out tell him no to sexual advances and Pinkerton's got the advantage on him with weight and height. I'm good to go. Is Johnson in place?”
“He's going to check in on the radio. I'm going to get into position, and when you see me nod, make your move.”
A nod would be too subtle for anybody but a sentinel to catch, but Jim wasn't going to deny that it wouldn't be a problem for him.
“See you on the inside.”
* * *
He stepped into the store, the loud bell announcing his presence. Walking past the waiting area, he started walking down the hallway, and called out, “Anybody here?”
A moment later, Pinkerton stepped out into the hallway and waved at him. He met Jim and asked him to wait a moment while he quickly went up front and locked the door.
Pinkerton quizzed him about why he was there and he trotted out the story about doing a favor for his brother-in-law. Pinkerton didn't ask to look at any ID; he seemed distracted and in a hurry.
Jim was ushered into the studio, Pinkerton at his side, and then, involuntarily, he stopped dead. He couldn't help himself. He stared at Blair and saw the hot flush of embarrassment color his partner's face.
Pinkerton laughed, a proprietary sound that echoed in the large room.
“I also do photography, and Jacob there is one of my models. He's a pretty little thing, isn't he? A real street angel, and I'm using his shots for the documentary category for the Cascade Art Show later this summer. Ah, hang on a minute. I need a moment to get the materials ready. I'll be right back.”
Blair was fastening his shirt back up, fingers clumsy on the buttons at the bottom of his extra-large white dress shirt, the dull red tinting his face fading. He was naked under the shirt, the tails long enough to come down halfway down his thighs. There were twenties and fives sticking up out of his shirt pocket.
Blair moved towards Jim, and Jim wanted so badly to touch him, to enfold him in his arms. But they both had a job to do. Blair shot him a relieved look and then went to the far wall where clothes were piled in an untidy heap on a chair.
Jim heard the sound of the safe in the office opening, and Pinkerton shuffling papers.
Pinkerton came out, a manila envelope in his hand, and he frowned when he saw that Blair had left the bench and was standing with his jeans in his hand.
“Excuse me. Here. You can look over these. I need to talk to my boy over there for a minute.”
He strode over to Blair and took the jeans out of his hands. “What are you doing, baby?” He spoke softly enough that Jim wouldn't overhear him, if Jim had had normal hearing. Blair kind of shrunk away, and looked down.
“I, I just wanted to put my jeans on while that guy is here.”
“But I told you to stay on the bench, and to keep touching yourself. If I had wanted you to stop, I would have told you to stop. You're just going to have to try harder to follow my instructions. Now, put those down and come over here to me.” Blair dropped the jeans and moved closer to Pinkerton, who touched Blair's lips. Lips that were fuller even than normal thanks to the dusky red lipstick he was wearing.
Jim wanted to cut the man's fingers off. Luckily, Pinkerton quit playing around with Blair's mouth, so Jim shoved that impulse way, way down inside of himself.
The controlling bastard shook his head at Blair, in the manner of someone scolding a kid. “Sometimes I invite a friend or two over to share my boys and from the way my customer's jaw dropped when he looked over your way, married man or not, he was very taken with you. I'm going to give you a little test, baby.” He lifted Blair's chin. “Now, you know that I'm going to pay you very well to do what I want. Remember this morning? How cold and miserable you were? Do you want that again? Because the money in your pocket won't last long, will it? You owe people, don't you? And once it's gone, you're back to begging for money for blow jobs and dodging the police. You need me, Jacob. And if you do what I ask, then I'll take good care of you. I bought you clothes today, didn't I? I fed you lunch. Now, are you going to be obedient, or do I kick you to the curb?”
Jim could see Blair's throat muscles working, as he swallowed hard. “I'll be good. But Michael... Um... I've never been fucked by a guy before. I don't really want to do that. It hurts, doesn't it? Do I really have to?”
Pinkerton laughed delightedly. “Oh, you really are a baby, aren't you? Yes. I'm going to fuck you, sweet little virgin. I'm going to take your cherry right there on that bench. And it might hurt a little, but I'll be careful with you. I'll make it feel good.” He bent down and kissed Blair on the mouth, a dirty, open-mouthed kiss that had Jim seething. As soon as the money had been transferred, he was putting Pinkerton on the ground so fast that the guy's head would be swimming.
Blair looked a little sick to Jim's eye. And when Pinkerton told him what he wanted him to do for the 'test', he looked even more upset, but he just shrugged his shoulders and told Pinkerton it’d be no problem.
Pinkerton wiped the lipstick Blair had gotten on him off on his sleeve, and then produced a tube from his pocket. He elaborately applied the color to Blair's lips again, repairing what the kiss had smudged, then he took Blair by the hand and brought him to Jim.
“I couldn't help but notice that you seem interested in Jacob. So I thought I'd let you have a closer look. We've been having some fun with gender bending this afternoon. Isn't he gorgeous this way? The eyeliner and eye shadow really adds depth to his big blue eyes. And his mouth. It's positively sinful. So full and red, and luscious in that color. I chose this oversized shirt so that he looks a bit lost in it. White for purity. And he's wearing his own earrings. I think the photos will show him looking both innocent and wanton and so very fuckable that his gender is irrelevant.” Pinkerton grinned at Jim, like they were two old buddies.
“I'm going to fuck him tonight. His first time, he tells me. But he needs to learn to do what I say, and I've told him to ask you if you'd like to warm him up for me. I'll watch, of course. You can kiss him, touch him anywhere you want, and he'll give you a hand job. Sorry, but I haven't experienced his mouth for myself yet, so I'm going to be selfish about that.”
Pinkerton pulled Blair close to him, wrapped an arm around his waist. “Go on now, baby. Ask the nice man if he'd like to play with you.”
Jim was going to murder the son of a bitch. And nobody would ever find the body.
“Look, that's a sweet offer, but I've got a brother-in-law who needs these documents right now. So, no thanks, kid. Now can we finish up here?” Jim put an impatient spin to his words, and Pinkerton let Blair go.
“As you wish. Step into my office, and, Jacob, you wait right here.” Jim followed the kinky bastard into the office and sat down across the desk from him.
They went over the agreed upon amount, then Jim counted out the money on the desk. Pinkerton watched greedily as Jim shoved the money over to him. The man placed the marked bills in a leather bank bag, and thanked Jim for doing business with him.
“If you don't mind stepping out and keeping my boy company for a moment I'll be just a moment in here, and then I'll unlock the door and let you out.”
Jim nodded. It would be better to arrest him in the studio since this office was too crowded with furniture. As soon as Pinkerton stepped out of here, Jim would slam him up against the wall and cuff him, then make him lie down on the floor. Blair would back him up and they'd call Kim in to do the actual arrest. It was his case, after all. Besides, Jim really didn't feel like hassling with more paperwork than absolutely needed; the sooner he and Blair could get out of here and go home, the better.
He heard Pinkerton open the safe, and he kept an eye on the door, standing in the best position to grab Pinkerton when they would head towards the hallway.
He was keenly aware of Blair. God, he looked so damn hot. So beautiful. Jim had never seen him this way and he regretted keenly that he and Blair had never thought to play around like this, because Blair would hate looking this way ever again, and damn Pinkerton for that. Damn him for embarrassing Blair and making touching him dressed like this into something dirty and wrong.
Blair was quiet, subdued, still being Jacob, and Jim understood completely how undercover work could take you down into places you didn't know you had. Jacob was on the cusp of truly falling into street life and Blair had been excellent in that role. And it could be hard to stop, to break apart that person you'd become and have your true self re-emerge.
But then Blair looked at him and winked. Jim felt relieved. He'd told Kim that Blair was a tough guy, and he was. He was smart and capable and he would shake this off and they'd go home and everything would be okay.
Pinkerton opened the door. And aimed a gun right at Jim's face.
* * *
“Hold your arms to the side, Detective Ellison. Oh, yeah, I remembered who you were. Took me a while, but I started to think you looked familiar when you were counting out the money. We printed your picture for the awards banquet for Cop of the Year. And I've seen you on TV before. I've got a good memory for faces, usually. Guess I was distracted for a while. I'm not now, though, so don't do anything rash because I'll blow you away.”
Jim looked hard at the man, assessing his chances of jumping him. He wasn't close enough to grapple with him yet. But Blair, if Pinkerton hadn't tumbled to Blair being a cop, Blair would pull some rabbit out of his ass. It was what he did.
“Don't make any stupid moves, Pinkerton. Your best bet is to lay down that gun and get a lawyer.”
“You think I haven't prepared for this possibility? I've got ID and money ready to go. Where's my brother?”
“Arrested by now. Give it up; the place is surrounded.”
“I can get out. It's dealing with you that's the problem. Jacob. Search him. He's bound to have a gun. Ellison, put your hands on top of your head. Go on, baby; check him out, find the gun, and bring it to me.”
“Me? Uh, I don't like guns very much.” That was the truth. Blair didn't like guns, not really, but he was more than competent with them and had long ago accepted the necessity of using one in police work.
“Go on, baby. I'm watching him. Stand to the side and reach inside his jacket.”
Blair did so and brought out Jim's gun. He held it like he was afraid it was going to bite him. And while Pinkerton's attention was focused on Jim, Blair deftly let the safety off as he moved to the man's side.
Pinkerton stuck his hand out for the gun, but in a fluid motion, Blair brought it up under the man's chin.
“Cascade P.D., asshole. Drop the gun or I'll blow your head off.”
Pinkerton started to turn, shock in his eyes, but Blair jabbed him hard.
“Michael. I can't miss. And you know, I'm pissed about how you've treated Jacob the last two days, you manipulative bastard. Do you really want to make a stupid move, because I will shed no tears for pulling the trigger. You're holding a gun on an officer; I can shoot you right now and IA won't even blink about it.” Blair's voice rang out with authority. “Now. Lower the gun. And I'll let you live.”
Pinkerton did it. And his Blair, dressed in nothing but a large shirt, barefoot, looking like an escapee from Never-Never Land with his wild hair and earrings and oh-so-kissable lips, made Pinkerton get down on his knees, while Jim confiscated the gun. When Pinkerton was cuffed and face first down on the floor, Blair continued to hold the gun on him while Jim called Kim, and explained that the suspect was cuffed and ready for Kim to read him his rights and execute the search warrant.
“Hey Jim. Take over, will you? I'll get dressed and let in Kim and Johnson.” Blair gave Jim his gun back and headed towards the chair with his clothes. He quickly pulled on jeans and slipped his sandals back on his feet. He left the shirt alone, though, and used a T-shirt to wipe off the lipstick.
With a look of loathing, he stuffed the money Pinkerton had paid him into his jeans.
Jim listened as his partner let Kim in the front door, and briefed him. When he returned with Johnson he'd found a rubber band somewhere and had pulled his hair back.
Kim took over then, read Pinkerton his rights, and showed him the search warrant before he sent him to Booking with Johnson and a couple of uniforms. Jim suspected it was because he didn't trust Jim to take Pinkerton in without maybe bashing his head a few times. And probably he didn't trust Blair to do it, either. Smart man, Kim.
At least Pinkerton had kept his mouth shut before being hauled off, probably afraid of saying something that might incriminate him, but it had made it easier on Blair for the guy to be silent. Jim was going to have a long talk with his partner later, make sure that this experience hadn't hurt him. But for now they had a shitload of plain old boring police work to get through.
The three of them handled the search through the building, and tagged damn near everything in the back office, typewriters and the computer included. It took them a couple of hours, but it looked like there would be plenty of evidence to make the DA happy.
During a coffee break - they'd made a pot back in the kitchen - Blair dug the money Pinkerton had given him out of his pocket and passed it to Kim, asking that it be donated to the Police Widows and Orphans Fund.
Kim agreed, looking at Blair's eyes with a concerned look on his face. Jim knew he had to be seeing the eye makeup that Blair still wore. Kim had been keeping an ear to the ground about the Pinkerton's sideline business for quite a while; he'd no doubt heard rumors about Michael’s preferences in sexual partners. And Blair had been with Michael Pinkerton all of today and alone with him after the brother had left. Out on the street, Kim had asked Jim if Blair was okay in there. He had probably known the kinds of things that the guy would try to pull on his new street boy.
Kim took Blair off by himself, then, and Jim gave them privacy. When they came back, Kim said he was recommending to Banks that Blair be placed on paid leave for the next two days, because of the undercover work he'd done. He'd taken his preliminary statement and the rest could wait. Jim, though, needed to come down to the station, to do some paperwork on both this case and the arson case.
“I'm sending your partner home - your home, I believe - he needs some time to readjust before coming into the station. He did a good job today. Hell, he saved your bacon and kept the case from exploding into bloodshed. I'll let Banks know, in writing, how much his undercover work helped break this case. I'm not sure about all of what Pinkerton tried on Blair, but you watch out for him. Get him help if he needs it. Drive him home, and I'll meet you at the station. I want your input on questioning the Pinkertons.”
* * *
“Jim, can I ask you something? And will you be honest with me?” They were almost home, and Jim had driven it with Blair tucked against his side.
“I'll try. What do you want to know?”
“I saw your face when you saw me in the studio. Were you acting for Pinkerton's benefit or were you really turned on by what I was wearing. Because it seemed to me that you were turned on.”
“I, uh. I was definitely turned on. What about you? Did it disgust you to be wearing makeup and that shirt?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, I'm sorry he made you do that. Can I help you not feel weird about it?”
“I said yes because I was wearing it for him. But you know, he showed me some of the pictures he took with the digital camera, and if I'm being objective I'd have to say I found the gender bending part interesting. I might want to try that again sometime - just not right now. But only if you liked me like that.”
“I did. And if you decide to play that game someday, I'll play right along with you. But if the thought of wearing lipstick and eyeliner makes you uncomfortable, makes you feel like Jacob, then don't do it for my benefit. I wouldn't like that at all, Blair. You should do it because you want to do it, not because I think you were hot, dressed like you were.” Blair chewed his lip, looking thoughtful.
Jim cleared his throat. “And by the way, thanks again for saving my ass tonight. Pinkerton met the real you, when you held that gun on him, and he believed every word you spoke.”
Blair sighed, a tired sound that hit Jim's protective buttons. “Undercover work is hard. I really was that poor loser kid for a while. And you know, Jacob probably would have stayed with Michael, would have become his little bitch. Michael is a sexual dominant. Jacob was pretty submissive. They probably would have ended up compatible, if they had gotten together.”
Jim turned onto Prospect. He hoped he wouldn't be too long at the station. He was in serious need of sleep himself, and he wanted to be with Blair, hold him, and let the anger and concern he'd felt all day drain away. Blair didn't say anything until Jim pulled up in front of the loft.
“I might surprise you someday then, Jim. I might call you up and tell you that I'm at home, dressed in one of your shirts - and lipstick. Don't stay too long at work, okay. You're tired, too. God, I can't wait to take a shower.”
He didn't kiss Jim. That was okay. Blair probably wanted to wash away all traces of Michael’s touch. He grabbed Jim's hand and squeezed it, then he opened the truck door and slid out on the sidewalk. He stood and watched as Jim made a U-turn, and headed back down Prospect. He watched until the truck must have disappeared from his sight, but Jim could still see him in his rear view mirror.
* * *
Epilog
Jim picked up his cell phone from the truck seat to silence its racket. Probably Blair, who had declined to tag along for the Saturday afternoon errand run, had something else he wanted Jim to pick up from the store.
It was Blair and he did want Jim to pick some things up. Jesus. He felt his dick start to harden as Blair finished his list, the mischief plain in his voice.
Screw the stop at the hardware store, and picking up his dry cleaning. Blair was feeling playful today, and Jim couldn't wait to find out what he had in mind.
* * *
Blair stood naked in front of their closet, feeling fresh from his shower. But he wasn't interested in his own wardrobe. He was looking for something of Jim's. Something that would be big on him, and crisp, and long sleeved... Ah, maybe that one - he moved hangers to one side and pulled it out into the light.
Light blue with dark blue pinstripes, and roomy even on Jim. He pulled the shirt on, and buttoned it up slowly. It felt good against his bare skin. He shivered a little and felt his dick start to swell.
He wanted to try this with Jim. He wanted to feel exotic and different and to see that deer in the headlight look on Jim's face. He wanted Jim to look at him the way he had in Pinkerton's studio.
And he was going to do this as himself, as Blair Sandburg, not poor little lost Jacob. He'd meditated, he'd processed, he'd done his research, and now he was ready to do some field work.
He looked at himself in the full mirror. This would be what Jim would see, his own shirt on Blair's body, Blair absolutely naked under it. Not just bare skin - Jim saw Blair sans clothing all the time, but naked. He would feel exposed under that shirt, and maybe a little bit shy, waiting for Jim's hands to unbutton the shirt that slid a little bit off of Blair's shoulders and slide his big hands in to palm Blair's nipples.
He shivered again, and went on looking at himself as Jim would see him. Blair's hair was loose, hair curling into its typical wild state as it dried. Maybe he could make some small braids, add some ribbon to it. He'd put beads in his hair before, but never ribbon. Yeah, he thought that would help make him feel a little more gender-bent.
He looked through the box he kept necklaces and earrings and bracelets in, and picked delicate chains and small gold hoop earrings, beautiful, but not what he usually chose to make a statement about who he was.
But he was going to play with gender bending today and deliberately explore a part of himself that he hadn't really wanted to before Michael had made him try it. Being short and having long hair and liking to wear bracelets and necklaces, he had been kidded and teased sometimes, or just plain insulted, about looking like a girl enough that he'd made it a point to stay away from actually blurring the gender lines in his choices of clothing, and he'd never worn makeup before the events of three weeks ago.
Right now, Jim was picking out Blair's makeup. Jim was choosing what shade of lipstick to apply to Blair's lips, and what color of eye shadow to brush over his eyelids. This was going to be a participant-study for both of them.
He waited, a little nervously, for Jim to come home. He was tempted to fire up his laptop, get lost in reading about the psychological aspects of gender versus the biological definition of sexual identity, to ponder about how Jung might say he was letting his inner anima, the internal feminine side of himself, out to play. But if he made this, this 'exploration' of his into a detached academic exercise, it would defeat the entire purpose for him.
He wanted to feel, not to make this experience the basis for a study, or a paper.
He wanted Jim to look at him like he was exotic and sensual, and he wanted Jim to watch Blair's mouth, lushly colored with lipstick, suck Jim's cock, and to see Jim go off like a firecracker.
So he didn't watch TV or boot up his laptop or open a book. Instead, he stood at the balcony window, feeling his need to touch, to be touched, swell and build, waiting for his lover to come to him.
* * *
Jim took the stairs up to the loft, because he wasn't in the mood to have anything slowing him down; he wasn't going to wait for the old elevator to creak its way up to the third floor.
He clutched at the bag holding the makeup Blair had told him to get. Jesus, making his selections had been embarrassing, He'd had to fend off helpful sales clerks who seemed to think he was in over his head. Maybe he'd given them that impression by the way he'd stared so long at the different shades of lipstick and eye shadow. He'd been picturing how this or that tone of deep red or dark pink lipstick would look on Blair's already ridiculously full lips. How eyeliner would subtly alter his eyes, adding something foreign and mysterious to his cheerful and open face.
He'd heard two of the clerks, after he'd denied needing any help once again, speculate that he couldn't be trying to buy something for his wife or girlfriend, because those customers usually threw themselves onto their mercy, grateful for the help.
No, they'd decided he was probably buying something for himself, and they’d watched him covertly, amusement in their eyes.
He wasn't going to tell Blair about that. Blair would find it way too entertaining, and if Blair decided he liked wearing makeup sometimes, then Jim bet that Blair might make him do this part again. God, he hoped Blair would like to do this again. He'd had a low level of arousal that he'd had to keep clamped down ever since Blair had phoned him. But he hoped that Blair would buy his own supplies in the future.
He walked briskly to the loft door, opened it with his key and strode into the room, zeroing in on Blair standing by the balcony doors.
He dropped the bag on the table, and stopped a little in front of Blair, who was smiling shyly at him. He looked cute dressed in just Jim's shirt. And there was something different about his hair - tiny braids and blue ribbons scattered through the soft curls. He was wearing jewelry - well, he usually had on jewelry of some kind - but these bracelets and earrings and necklaces were delicate golds and silvers, not the more typical leather and beads combination he would normally have encircling his neck and wrists.
“Hey,” Jim said, feeling a little awkward, hoping that doing this wouldn't feel weird to both of them.
“I know.”
Jim raised an eyebrow and took a step closer. “What do you know?”
Blair put his arms loosely around Jim's waist. “That this is new territory for us and it feels kind of strange, and kind of exciting and kind of awkward. And you're probably wondering if my head is fucked up from what I did with Michael. I'm okay, Jim. I suppose when you, or any cop who's been undercover, have to do things to stay in character, that we all have to readjust and give ourselves forgiveness for what we did.”
“You didn't do anything wrong, Blair. But I hate that you were trapped and had to play along with Pinkerton. I'm glad that the judge refused bail for the pair of them. They're a flight risk if I ever saw one, probably got a couple of false IDs stashed away. But what do you think you need to forgive yourself about?”
They'd talked about how the case had gone down before today, and how frustrated and angry Jim had been, listening to Blair being touched and humiliated by Pinkerton. Jim had practiced his own form of anger management by substituting a punching bag for Pinkerton's smug face. And Blair, Blair had been thoughtful a lot, had written reams in his journal, and had kept re-affirming to Jim - and Simon and Kim - that while this case had been a learning experience for him, he wasn't screwed up about it. Jim knew that his partner was sleeping fine, wasn't irritable or angry with people, and he sure didn't seem depressed or anxious. So what was this forgiveness deal?”
He looked down into Blair's earnest eyes, waiting for him to go on.
“I forgave myself for becoming Jacob, for burying every assertive trait that I have so that I could become what Pinkerton needed me to be. I let him kiss me and touch me, and talk to me and dress me the way he did so that I could do my job. But I wouldn't have let him fuck me on that bench, Jim. I'd have thought of something to stall him. And I knew you would be there as soon as you could. That helped. But it was also pretty embarrassing when you saw me in the studio. But the look on your face... man. It did something to me, and I want to see if it was just in that moment or if we tumbled onto something maybe a little kinky but cool for us. Because I think I like gender bending, in and of itself.”
He brought his lips up to Jim's, and Jim wrapped his arms tightly around him. Blair gave him one hell of a smooch, then grinned up at him.
“So let's go play. I can't wait to see what's in the bag.”
* * *
Jim was in heaven, being ministered to by his own personal angel. An angel whose head of hair he was gripping as said angel, mouth so very red and lush as he sucked on Jim's cock, kneeled to worship him, leaning against the couch where Jim was sprawled out, naked, legs wide apart so that his angel had plenty of room to work.
And oh God, this was good. So, so good. He flashed on images of Blair from this afternoon. Blair dressed only in Jim's shirt, and Jim sneaking his hands in to touch him while they had made dinner together. Blair kissing his neck and leaving a trail of lip shaped brands against his skin. Blair holding still while Jim had concentrated on using the eyeliner to draw attention to Blair's gorgeous eyes. The look on Blair's face as Jim had slowly uncapped the first lipstick from the bag, something called Raspberry Sorbet, and he had licked his lips, waiting for Jim to apply the lush color.
They'd dragged the touching and kissing and looking at each other out till dark, and eaten and watched a movie, Blair sitting on Jim's lap for most of it, and that wasn't something Blair normally did either, He didn't go out of his way to emphasize that he was a lot smaller than Jim. But tonight, he apparently had decided to relax about it, and he'd been a warm and cuddly bundle in Jim's lap. Jim had teased him, too, small touches on Blair's cock and then he'd kiss Blair's neck, or bite his ear, sucking the small gold hoop into his mouth and making Blair wiggle and squirm and pant, and then he'd stop, with Blair's arousal scent so strongly pouring from him that Jim was getting drunk on it.
Finally, Blair had had enough. He'd picked up the remote and turned the TV off and then tossed it out of Jim's reach. He slid off of Jim's lap and kneeled before him, and unfastened Jim's pants.
“I've let you set the pace so far, Jim, but it's my turn now. I want you naked on this couch and I want you to watch me while I suck you off. And then, you blow me, too. And I don't care where you do me - the couch, the floor, the counter, up in bed, whatever. So move it, lover. Shuck those pants.”
And he had, and Blair had proceeded to do his angel thing and Jim had stood it for as long as he could, mesmerized by Blair's wet and luscious looking mouth moving on his cock, until with a groan and holding fast to Blair's hair, he'd come and come and come.
So. Fucking. Good.
He lay dazed, Blair watching him with a pleased look on his face that said, 'Yes, I am a god, and the king of cock-sucking' and Jim was going to wipe that look right off of Blair's pretty face - because while he was always beautiful to Jim, tonight he was pretty, too - and he was going to take that title right away from Blair and bestow it on himself instead. Once he could move again, that is.
* * *
Blair looked absolutely debauched laid out on the bed, only one button holding the shirt on his body, allowing Jim access to his nipples and belly - he thought he'd pick up a belly chain for Blair to wear for the next time they went on gender-bending safari - and to the cock that was trying so hard to get his attention.
Jim had taken Blair at his word, and had started by pushing Blair down on the floor after he was able to move off of the couch. He'd pinned Blair's legs with the weight of his own body and had leaned down and kissed him everywhere on his face and neck and upper torso - except on the lips. They'd found out earlier in the afternoon that while Blair looked hot and wild and so pretty wearing lipstick, his lips didn't actually taste that good. Jim could have dialed it down, he supposed, but he wanted to experience Blair with his senses turned up, not down.
Blair had cheerfully said that it wasn't a problem and then he'd proceeded to kiss Jim everywhere he could in his attempts to wipe the lipstick off. And when he 'd been lipstick free then epic, lip-locked kissing had ensured.
And when Blair was a mess of hormone driven need on the floor, then Jim had moved him to the counter and boosted him up, and slowly started unbuttoning the loose shirt. Very slowly, and with each button newly undone, he had to re-check his territory with lingering touches that had driven Blair nuts, until he was actually trying to hump the air that Jim's fingers had just passed through.
He was making wailing, plaintive sounds and his eyes were so bright and beautiful, he was just so beautiful, flushed like this and breathing deeply and Jim wanted to keep him this way forever.
But that would be cruel and unusual punishment, and Jim liked to think of himself as a merciful man. And a practical one. If he let Blair have that orgasm while he was laid out like a buffet on the counter, he'd be useless to move on his own. And Jim didn't really want to carry him up to bed.
Which is why he'd held out the promise of finally letting Blair come as the incentive to move upstairs He was ready to give Blair the mercy stroke right now, here in their bed, so that Blair could pass out in peace and Jim could cuddle him while he himself drifted off in slumber.
There was one more thing to do first. Well, two things.
Blair's lips were currently lipstick free and Jim wanted another taste of that sweet mouth before he dolled Blair back up. So he took and he plundered, until he was satisfied and Blair's eyes were nearly as black as his eyeliner.
Then he proceeded to use what the package had called a cream lipstick, aptly named Red Hot Lover, and with a small brush he, oh, so carefully, applied the color to Blair's lips. Blair was panting and trying to reach for his own dick by the time Jim had decided that Blair's lips were perfect, but Jim blocked him until he gave up and just looked up at Jim.
He was gorgeous. Just... gorgeous. Male facets and female elements complimented each other in his features and his lips, naturally full and lovely, were so red and shiny and slick and the slight shadow of his stubble made a yin/yang tableau. Jim leaned over him and Blair gave fervent unintelligible praise as Jim kissed his way down to Blair's cock and took it into his mouth.
Scant minutes later, when Blair came so hard his body lifted into a bow, Jim decided that maybe they could share the title of king of the cock-suckers.
* * *
They'd eaten a leisurely Sunday breakfast and were cleaning up when Blair made his move.
“Say, Jim?” He held up the receipt for the makeup that had been shoved down into the bag. “Did you have any trouble buying my makeup yesterday?”
“No.” Keep it simple, stupid, he told himself. There was no reason to have a conversation about how embarrassing and a little nerve-wracking buying some lipstick and eye makeup had been.
“Oh, really? How long did it take you to decide what to buy me?” Blair smiled, a little wickedly, and Jim remembered that Blair was quite capable of telling time and, shit, just how long had he stood mesmerized by the choices to make before actually buying what he needed. What Blair needed. What he needed Blair to need.
“I don't remember, Sandburg. Hey, want to go shoot some hoops over at the park?”
Blair laughed. It was kind of an evil sound, actually, and Jim definitely was feeling a little wary now. “Oh, maybe. After we finish this conversation. So Jim, tell me - and don't spare the details - what was it like for you to purchase things that are traditionally female items. Did you ask for help?” Jim shook his head. “Was it something that disturbed you or bothered you? Or were you totally cool with it? Did any sales clerks try and help you? C'mon, Jim. Share your research findings.”
“Jesus. The things I put up with from you. I'm just going to do myself a favor and tell you what you want to know so you'll stop being a pain in my ass.” Blair tried to look innocent but Jim knew his partner pretty damn well, every inch of him, and he wasn't fooling Jim one little bit. He was up to something.
“I was trying to keep from popping a boner all the time I was buying that stuff, because I was picturing it on you, and the sales women came to the conclusion that just because I didn't ask them for help that I was buying it for myself.”
Blair chuckled. “Well, maybe we should talk about that, because you know I've always thought your fondness for that hideous apron of yours might conceal some cross-dressing fantasy. Do you want to trade places sometime and we'll use the makeup on you, instead of me?”
Jim had known this question was coming. How could he not have known it, after living with Mr. Curiosity for so many years.
“No, I don't think I'll be wearing any lipstick, because the thought of it on my mouth doesn't turn me on. But I really liked it on you. And quit insulting my apron. It's just an apron, not a lifestyle choice.” Jim walked over to the sink and started filling it with hot water and dirty dishes.
Blair brought him his empty coffee cup to wash.
“Fair enough. Well, about you not wanting to do a little gender bending of your own. But the apron is fair game. It's so ugly that it's kind of cool. But don't think you're off the hook. I want you to be involved the next time I get in the mood to do this again. And it's time for a little payback for making me give you a hand job as your massage therapist while we were being watched by those goons during your undercover case earlier this year.” Blair gave another one of his wicked smiles, and Jim braced himself for whatever was coming.
“So, Jim, you might want to do a little research on the best makeup to buy, something that is free of animal testing, maybe something that uses some organic ingredients, because we've got a partnership going here and I'm only wearing makeup that you're buying me. Fair's fair, after all. And payback's a bitch.”
Then the little shit laughed his ass off. But Jim smacked his butt with a damp towel till he begged for a truce, and then they both left to play some B-ball.
Jim thought to himself that if buying makeup was the price he'd have to pay to see Blair like he was last night in his gender bended glory, then Jim had gotten a hell of a deal. And he guessed he wouldn't really mind Blair's payback much after all.
The End
Laurie