Hunting In Mecca
Taking a deep breath, Blair straightened his tie and checked his reflection in the brass column outside the enormous Seattle hotel: White shirt, jeans, soft brown jacket, a tie, and a baseball cap. He'd pulled his hair back, tucking it into his collar, and hopefully he looked like every other cop wandering around. A half-dozen cops leaned against the wall on the far side of the door, catching a smoke on break before heading back in for the rest of the conference.
Straightening his shoulders, Blair headed for the wide doors. Luckily, most of the cops had already lost their "Hello, my name is…" badges, so hopefully, no one would question him. Hopefully. If they did stop him, Blair didn't really have a good excuse for sneaking into a hotel full of cops. He didn't think hotel security would be amused by his need to stalk a certain Cascade detective.
Even worse, he didn't think Jim or Simon would be amused at having to bail him out after ordering him to stay home. Then again, when had Blair ever followed that order?
Wandering down the wide hallway with huge, plastic potted plants and giant copies of Renoir paintings, Blair imitated the bored expressions of those around him. He'd come earlier to prepare a few surprises and 'case' the joint, so now he just needed to find his target.
A group of men roared in laughter, and Blair looked over, giving a jerky nod of recognition to one man, even though he didn't recognize the pox-marked face at all. The man nodded back and kept chatting to the bored-looking woman he'd cornered next to the giant silver coffee pots.
Looking around at the crowd, Blair temporarily lost focus on his hunt, distracted by the clustering of officers. Three women rolled their eyes as they leaned against a wall near the door and had some private conversation that left all of them with sour expressions. An enormous group talked near the front, punctuating their conversation with bursts of heavy laughter.
Blair could write a whole series of papers on this… the groupings, the way the men shifted around in response to each other. Even now, Blair could see three or four men in the large group vying for the role of alpha, pressing closer and talking louder while the other men nodded and kept their voices down.
Ignoring these interesting tableaus, Blair focused on finding his prey. Feeling like a hunter stalking through an unfamiliar jungle, he let himself drift from group to group as he worked around the edges of the room.
Every time he saw a wide, muscled back, Blair held his breath until he could see the face. Not Jim. Not his prey. Not his Sentinel. Blair moved farther into the room. Somewhere near the giant poster with the conference schedule, Blair spotted him.
Jim walked in from the door nearest the restrooms, a frustrated expression keeping anyone from getting too close. With the captains' workshop down the hall keeping Simon busy, this was the best opportunity for Blair's safari.
Moving behind a group of cops complaining about yesterday's workshop on current court cases with potential to affect police procedure, Blair watched Jim and fantasized. He let his mind imagine slipping a hand under the grey shirt, pressing upwards and pulling one button at a time open until he could see the lines of Jim's abdomen. He could almost feel the warm skin under his hands as he put the palms of his hands against that toned stomach, moving up until he touched the tight nipples.
Grimacing at the sudden tightness in his jeans, Blair put his hands in the pockets of his jacket and pulled the edges of the fabric closer so no one would notice him wandering around with a hard on. Now for the fun.
Blair nodded toward another man he didn't recognize and moved closer to the air vent that blew dry, cold air into the room. Standing in the middle of the breeze, Blair imagined the feeling of Jim's hands on him: teasing, holding, touching, stroking.
In his mind, he replayed the first night they had finally sat on the couch and awkwardly fumbled at each other. Neither one of them had known what to do with the hard curves of another man, but the memory of those clumsy touches, so much like his first inept night with Mary Freelander in the back of her Jeep, always made him hard. Today was no exception. Holding his jacket closed in front of him, Blair groaned as his cock throbbed.
Not wanting to make it too easy, Blair wandered away from the vent. Stalking his prey, he let a crowd of men push him east just as Jim glanced up, a confused expression on his face. Blair smiled and cracked his neck first one way and then the other before snagging a bottle of water off a nearby table and blending in with a passing group that wandered into the room as the clock ticked away the seconds of breaktime.
"God I hate this liberal shit," an older man standing near complained, and Blair nodded knowingly.
"Pure bullshit," he answered curse for curse. He nearly smiled as he mentally compared slipping into the police procedures conference with gaining acceptance into the Kombai tribe. Acceptance just meant imitating the rituals of others, and Blair knew exactly how to do that.
"We're giving these slime more rights than the victims. Makes me miss the good old days when your partner would keep watch while you got a confession the quick way," the man snorted.
Blair's first instinct included an outraged 'not cool' with a follow-up lecture on civil rights, but as an observer trying to fit into the society, a hunter trying to blend in with the environment, he only nodded his head and took a big drink of water. He subtly moved to keep this new man between himself and Jim as he nodded. Now the Sentinel took several steps towards the center of the room and looked around, puzzled. With Jim obviously struggling to find the source of the scent, Blair didn't even dare risk a whisper of an answer. The older man took that as an invitation to continue as he pointed a thick finger in Blair's direction for emphasis.
"And this crap with the Bustamonte case in California?" he asked incredulously, "if they make us get signed waivers for every roadside search of a car, I’m taking early retirement."
Jim had turned away, so Blair risked a quick, "I'm there with you, man," before he started to back away.
"Damn liberals," the anonymous detective growled before heading back toward the chairs. Blair quickly moved toward the emergency exit, dropping his half-empty water bottle on a chair as he went. Slipping around the corner into a service hall nearly invisible to most of the room, Blair watched as Jim shook his head and then marched toward the water cooler. Jim's long, jerky strides revealed the Sentinel's aggravation.
Over time, Blair had begun to suspect Jim had a guide-radar built into the senses. Jim would throw out a hand without even looking, and catch Blair every time. When they got separated, Jim always seemed to pick the right direction to search. Jim refused to discuss it, picking excuses that ranged from fatigue to a general hatred of all things Sentinel, but Blair smiled as the man now proved his theory right. Jim took two steps closer to the hallway. Oh yeah, Blair knew the right bait to trap his Sentinel.
Despite the thousand or so police officers wandering the enormous lecture hall of the hotel, Jim now searched each corner of the room, his eyes covering the crowd in methodical sweeps. Blair slid back into the shadows.
Watching Jim, Blair could practically see the moment when Jim finally realized what his senses had been whispering. Maybe Jim finally identified that familiar scent on the air or heard Blair's heartbeat. Who knew? But Blair felt a rush of adrenaline as Jim smirked and stood up a little straighter. Oh yeah, the hunt would end soon.
Jim wandered the room in slow circles that moved him always east, closer to the hall where Blair watched. Sliding back even farther into the shadow created when he'd taken out a light bulb earlier that day, Blair waited for the right moment.
The moment came when Jim stood under the banner welcoming law enforcement officers in huge, blue letters. Jim stopped. His head tilted slightly to the side like a cat momentarily caught off guard, and then he turned slowly and focused right at the hall tucked in next to the emergency exit. Blair smiled as Jim's body followed, turning toward him with a deadly grace.
"Hi, Jim," Blair whispered, his words lost in the cacophony of hundreds of conversations. Even over the complaints about the latest court cases and the comparisons of benefits packages offered by different departments and the bragged stories of solved cases, Jim heard him. Blair could see that in the way Jim raised his eyebrows in question.
Blair couldn't help it; he could feel the excitement building as he took another step back so that the wall blocked his view of most of Jim's body. Jim instantly stepped forward. Blair backed another step, watching Jim's eyes narrow as he matched with a step forward. Without wasting any more time, Blair turned and darted down the hall.
Blair grabbed at the wall as he turned the corner and slid to a stop, in front of a closet door. Scrambling after the doorknob, he could hear running footsteps start to pound down the carpeted hall just as he darted into the dark, kicking the door closed.
Footsteps ran past the door and then almost immediately stopped. Trapped. Blair popped open the button to his jeans, sliding the zipper down to relieve the pressure as his cock throbbed in time with his heart. The door came open, and Jim stood there, outlined by the hall lights and filling the whole doorway.
"Chief? What the fuck do you think you're—"
Jim stopped when Blair slid his hand into his boxers, gripping his shaft and groaning involuntarily in need. Even though Blair couldn't see Jim's face, which was in shadow, he could imagine the expression he'd seen so many times, the dark pupils dilating, the eyes narrowing, the tongue running over Jim's bottom lip.
Then the world went totally dark as Jim stepped into the closet and pushed the door closed behind him.
"Told you to stay home," Jim said, but his voice came out low and rough, his breath catching in the middle. Blair slowly worked his hand up and down his shaft.
"Thought I'd see how much fun you and Simon were having without me," Blair shrugged. "If you want me to leave…" Blair pushed off the wall, and took a step into the darkness toward the door. Two hands grabbed him by the shoulders and pushed him back into the wall as a warm body pressed close, trapping him. Blair groaned as Jim's groin pressed into his cock.
"Oh man. Could use some help here," Blair complained softly as he clutched Jim's shoulders.
"What kind of help you need?" Jim whispered into his ear. Blair shivered as the warm air set his body on fire. Jim chuckled. Then he took Blair's earlobe between his lips, sucking softly. The gentle, teasing touches left Blair helplessly writhing and grabbing at Jim as he incoherently begged and fisted the fabric of Jim's shirt.
"Can't rip the shirt, Chief," Jim admonished, and then Blair felt two strong hands grab his wrists and force his arms against the wall over his head. Opening his mouth to either complain or antagonize Jim even more, not even Blair was sure which, Blair's words were cut off by Jim's mouth over his. Twisting in pleasure, Blair could only helplessly endure as Jim pressed him to the wall and assaulted his mouth.
Eventually, Jim pulled back, and Blair could hear the heavy panting breaths and feel Jim's chest heave as it pressed him to the wall. "Why…?" Jim didn't have air for any more, and Blair wiggled a bit as his cock ached.
"Need you," Blair whispered. He felt as Jim grabbed both of his wrists in one hand, leaving a second, large hand free. Slowly that hand trailed down Blair's captured arm and wandered to Blair's face. A thumb rubbed over Blair's lower lip and then fingers traced the skin around his left eye. Blair closed his eyes and let himself thrash as his body burned for more.
Eventually, Jim's hand trailed down over the simple shirt and down to the open jeans. Blair lurched forward when Jim reached between them, fingers brushing against his cock.
"Give it up. You're caught fair and square, Chief," Jim chuckled, and then Blair found himself twisted around—his chest pressed to the wall while his hips yanked to the side with the force of Jim ripping the belt from Blair's jeans. "Going to have to move fast before someone comes in here, so I hope you're ready," Jim whispered as Blair felt the leather wrapping around his wrists. Jim forced his hands up until Blair's fingers closed around a hook set into the wall.
Accepting the silent order to hold on, Blair stood in the dark hanging onto the hook as Jim yanked his jeans down. Then Blair heard the sound of another zipper as Jim opened his own pants.
"So bad. And you're definitely corrupting me," Jim commented as he pressed into the plug Blair had slipped into place that morning. "So very bad," Jim repeated as he dug fingers into Blair's hips. Blair opened his legs as much as he could with the jeans around his ankles.
"Fuck, yeah," he agreed. Truly, he was. He'd known Jim could never resist the smell of Blair's need, of Blair's pheromones. He'd set the bait, and a little speck of guilt floated to the surface as he considered just how helpless Jim had been to escape the hunt. Then Jim pulled the plug out and drove deep into Blair body with a single thrust. Blair's chest slammed into the wall, and Blair's whole body shuddered in an almost-orgasm that made him gasp for air. He no longer cared about anything except the need that rolled through him and the need that he could feel from Jim.
"Quiet," Jim ordered as he slipped a hand around Blair's mouth. Then he pulled out and slammed in again. At the third hard thrust, Blair let go. He screamed into the hand against his lips as he lunged from side to side, as far as he could without letting go of the hook. Teeth bit at his shoulder, and Blair threw himself backwards, pushing against Jim's bulk.
Jim simply thrust harder, slamming into Blair so that Blair lost his breath and panted through his nose. A last hard thrust, and then Blair could feel the warmth as Jim pressed him to the wall and came inside him. A hand reached around, and at the first touch, Blair came in rolling waves of pleasure so intense that he sagged. Only Jim's weight at his back and his death grip on the hook kept him upright.
The hand over his mouth dropped to his neck, where fingers slowly stroked the skin of his neck. Blair rested his forehead against the cool wall and struggled to put the pieces of reality back together as his heart steadied.
"So, what are you doing here?" Jim asked as he pulled out. Blair felt wrong as the emptiness filled him. He also felt more than a little sticky as Jim's come and the lube he'd used that morning dripped down the inside of his thigh, ticking the small hairs on his legs. He shifted uncomfortably, but Jim didn't untie him, and Blair took that as a sign that he wasn't allowed to let go of the hook yet.
"I missed you," Blair admitted. "Besides, it's a mountain and Mohammed thing, man. I couldn't get you to sneak home, so I came to you."
"In the middle of a police conference? Chief, this is…" Jim stopped.
"Dangerous, sexy, mind-blowing?" Blair filled in with a chuckle.
"Illegal," Jim finished. "Public indecency. Lewd and lascivious behavior."
"Only if we're caught, man. And you'll hear anyone coming down the hall. Besides, I paid the busboy a hundred bucks to not use this closet until lunch," Blair admitted. Jim's hands had been exploring the curve of Blair's hips and ass, and now they stopped.
"You'd make quite the spy, Chief," Jim answered with a slap on the ass, and Blair let his head tilt back until he rested it on Jim. Jim leaned in a little harder. "But with this many cops… it's a dangerous game to play. And if Simon catches you here, he'll skin you alive."
"No joke," Blair agreed. "But it's the forbidden fruit… it's hunting in Mecca, like Burton."
"'Sentinels of Paraguay' Burton?" Jim asked suspiciously.
"Oh yeah. He dressed up like a Muslim and sneaked into Mecca. Totally forbidden, and if they'd caught him, he would have been in boiling hot water. Man, if he can do that, I can pass as a cop."
"So you're hunting, huh?" Jim asked, and teeth found Blair's earlobe.
Blair sighed. Now the attention just filled him with warmth instead of firing the frustration and need from earlier. "Yep," he agreed.
"Catch what you wanted?"
"Definitely man, definitely."
"Well, they do say a hunter is in the most danger when the prey is cornered," Jim said softly. The hair on Blair's neck stood up.
"Oh?" Blair waited for an answer, but Jim was doing something else, moving around without taking his weight off Blair's back or untying Blair's hands. "Jim?" Blair asked, a shiver going through his muscles. His cock made a pathetic attempt at a twitch, but was too sated to do more.
"After all, a good hunter doesn't let himself lose all his weapons and get tied up," Jim pointed out softly. At the word 'weapon,' he reached down and ran a finger softly over Blair's perineum causing a delicious shiver to run the length of Blair's spine.
Blair hadn't finished his appreciative hum, when something pressed against his ass, something larger than the plug he'd had in there earlier and cooler than Jim's cock. Jim pressed and a wide plug pressed into place, the neck of it holding Blair's entrance uncomfortably wide and the bulb filling his ass.
"Shit," Blair cursed as he tightened his hold on the hook.
"Oh, that's not the half of it," Jim commented affably. Too affably. Jim stepped back, and Blair shifted and arched his back in an attempt to shift the plug to a more comfortable position. Clearly that wasn't happening. Then one warm hand rested on his hip while the other brushed again his inner thigh, playing with the plug. Blair hoped for one second that Jim would take it out. That hope ended when the plug began to softly vibrate.
"Fuck," Blair cursed. As if in answer, the plug gave a burst of quivering energy and then settled back into the soft vibrations.
Hands pulled at his jeans, tugging them up into place, and Blair could only glare over his shoulder into the dark. Jim laughed.
Then hands turned him, and Blair let go of the hook to allow Jim to maneuver him. Tucking his bound hands into his chest, Blair rested his head against the wall and closed his eyes as fingers explored his face and his hair, brushing back the curling tendrils that had worked free and now stuck to his sweaty face.
"You're sadistic," Blair accused his lover.
"Well, I guess you'd better get home quick before that drives you even more crazy than you already are," Jim commented, setting the rules for the game. Blair groaned at the thought of driving with this thing in him. Jim's fingers loosened the belt from his wrists and then started threading it back into the jeans, tucking the shirt in as he worked.
"Bully," Blair complained as Jim tightened the belt.
"You're the one who wanted to hunt in Mecca. Besides, as a good hunter, you should have known your prey was prepared for his guide," Jim pointed out. One hand pulled Blair from the wall in a hug while the other delivered a sharp slap on the ass.
"I missed you, too," Jim said softly, and then he was gone, opening the closet door and disappearing out into the hallway before their sap-levels could rise any farther. Blair looked around in the dim light allowed in by the crack where Jim didn't quite shut the door. His baseball cap lay on the floor, and Blair didn't even remember when he'd lost it. Bending over, the plug surged again, and Blair hissed as his cock entertained the idea of round two. Oh yeah, he needed to get home before things got too interesting.
Blair shoved his hat on and headed out into the hall, moving away from the large room where a speaker now droned tonelessly, words amplified by a microphone that also mashed the sounds together into something nearly incomprehensible.
Trying to walk normally as he headed for the lobby, he smiled. Oh yeah, he knew his prey. Chalking this up as a successful hunt, Blair walked out into the Seattle heat.