No infringement of the following characters and situations is intended.
Warning: Rated [MA] Mature Adults only. Contains strong m/m sexual scenes, violence, coarse language and adult themes.
The sort of sequel to The BF Factor that I swore I'd never write. I've got more than a dozen stories demanding attention, but one's muse is perverse like that.
The stars seemed brighter tonight as he watched them slowly wheel over Cascade.
"Sometimes I dream about being taken away somewhere, being held down and subjected to tests."
"My mother thinks you must have been abducted by aliens."
Jim laughed softly. "I don't think so, Chief. It's probably just some confused memories about the crash."
Jim couldn't remember the crash. He only remembered waking up in hospital and being told about Blair. He could still see Blair lying there in intensive care with shocking head injuries that should have killed him. The silly little fool hadn't been wearing his seat belt when it happened.
Blair scratched at his head, almost sensing Jim's thought. His severely short hair still only barely covered the Frankenstein scars that stitched up over his scalp. He still wore the short hair of an invalid. The poor kid had lost just about all of his memories, a good chunk of his motor skills and a fair slab of his personality. His academic career was on hold indefinitely, if not permanently, but Jim looked after him ,feeling responsible, with as near doting affection as he could muster., and Blair's disability pension not to mention the insurance payouts at least brought another income into the household, and gave him some pocket money to play with. Not that Blair bought much these days. He was quiet and sullen most times, but there were rare flashes of the old Blair, enough to give Jim hope.
Jim saw the frown deepen on Blair's face at the memory of the rash.
"C'm here," Jim growled, dragging Blair into his arms and softly massaging his scalp with the most sensitive of fingers. It only took a few minutes for Blair to relax back against him.
"Take your tablets?" Jim asked softly. Blair nodded.
Jim hated to see the vague expression on Blair's face that always prefaced a fit these days. Jim's whole body was attuned to sensing them, trying to avert them.
Blair was just tired though. He pushed himself, shopping and cleaning for Jim, so that he wouldn't feel a burden, and it took its toll.
Jim, too, worked long hard hours. Their time together, alone, was special. Like now, sitting curled together on the roof, under the stars. Up here, Jim liked to pretend he was far from the city. Stroking Blair in his arms gave him focus, peace. He rubbed the dark buzz cut affectionately. Looking after Blair all these long months of rehabilitation; he'd become almost like a son as well as a friend and lover. He felt very protective of Blair, and that gave his life, everything he did, meaning. He kept the city safe for Blair.
Blair tilted his head back, his way of asking for a kiss. Jim missed the endless chatter, kissing Blair just to shut him up. Yet now he enjoyed the silence. His hand slid down Blair's throat as their lips touched, feeling the fine hairs on his skin, the shiver of his pulse. Jim's hand slid into Blair's shirt, fingers tickled by the coarse, curly hair. Then he drew back, opening the buttons of Blair's shirt one by one until his lips and hands could move over the beloved chest and abdomen, unimpeded by cloth or buttons. Blair lay back on the sleeping bag they'd spread, smiling up at the stars as Jim licked at his skin. The one thing he hadn't forgotten was that he loved Jim Ellison.
And the heavens looked down upon them.
Stubbing out her third cigarette the red haired woman who sometimes called herself Blair's mother when in the field watched the two men melt into one over the satellite feed, making short notes on the time and activity and Ellison's reactions as their sighs came over the installed microphones. She scrawled down that Ellison was experiencing flashbacks, and underlined that point. She noted Ellison's preference for tactile and oral sensations when touching Sandberg. Ellison had incorporated his senses into enhancing his pleasure. It was second nature to him now. She didn't doubt Ellison could track Sandberg across the city by scent alone. He'd proven that he could do it. They'd arranged an abduction of Blair just for that purpose. Ellison was especially attuned to his lover's scent and heat, no matter where he was, let alone writhing beneath him.
Jim groaned loudly over the speaker. He still had a problem with over stimulation, losing himself too quickly. Just the touch of Blair's hand was enough when he was running on heightened senses.
She left the tape running as Blair wriggled on top. She wasn't interested in Sandberg's performance. The damaged agent had only been given to Ellison as a comfort toy, like an old blanket. She didn't believe that Ellison need Sandberg to be able to function fully as a freak of nature. She'd wanted to dump the whole project, but Ellison was too valuable. And Ellison, like a big stupid dog, wouldn't perform without his favourite toy nearby. So the best neurosurgeons had been flown in to save what was left of the brain damaged agent. He'd conveniently blown away his own memories for them, creating a clean slate upon which to reprogram him as Blair Sandberg. He was nothing but Blair Sandberg now, and he lived only because Ellison had a sentimental attachment to him. Sentimental apparently included fucking the little halfwit.
The images played on to an empty room.
Blair was making soft rhythmic grunts, rubbing against Ellison and driving him wild. They kissed again, long and slow with tongues, as the counter ticked off the seconds.