Blair sat at the table, calculator in hand. There was no denying the figure in front of him. He just hadn't expected it to be so....big. A couple of hundred he could understand...but this? This was unbelievable. *Oh well. Not much else to do, I suppose,* he mused regretfully. He tossed the calculator on the pile of papers before him and went upstairs.
Sentinel, detective, and lover to the cutest man on earth (Blair for any of you who have any doubts), Jim Ellison, let himself into the loft.
*Must have beer.*
After dropping his keys in the basket, his gun on the coffee table and his jacket onto the back of the chair (the latter two flagrantly breaking Ellison House Rules 57(b) subsection 3 and 5) he moved to the fridge and pulled out a beer. Vaguely wondering what the pile of papers on the table was, he plunked his ass (and what a fine ass it was) on the couch and turned on the television. Sucking the beer out of the long necked bottle, and wondering how soon he'd be able to put the talent to even more enjoyable pursuits that evening, he looked up when Blair came down the stairs to greet him. And promptly spewed his mouthful of beer over couch, jeans, coffee table and gun, (breaking Ellison House Rule 65).
His guide, partner, and snuggle bunny was dressed in a pair of stonewashed jeans that were so threadbare as to be...well...bare. In all the right places. They also appeared to be spray painted on, curving to the contours of his ass and displaying his generous endowments in the front behind the button-fly. A tight white T-shirt stretched across his chest, allowing the nipple ring to poke teasingly through the material. His blow dried hair curled softly to his shoulder in a cascade of what Jim knew was spun silk. Jim felt his groin tighten, his cock sending *must fuck* signals straight to the part of his brain labelled Neanderthal. Engaging his mouth, he managed to sputter.
"Blair...what...why..." He trailed off as his erection overtook all higher functions.
"Hey Jim. Look, I'm going out to work. I'll be back really late, so don't wait up, okay?"
"Work? Like that?"
Blair looked down at his state of dress.
"Oh...well...uh, you see, Jim, I've been looking at our financial situation, and well, frankly, I think the time for drastic measures has come. I talked to a guy in Vice and he gave me the name of someone to see on Tenth Avenue."
Tenth Avenue. AKA Get Laid Lane. Jim tried frantically to start thinking with his head, the one with the brain actually in it.
"Yes Jim. Butt. If we're going to make any headway in getting out of this mess, someone's got to sell it."
"WHAT MESS?" Jim shouted in frustration, sexual and otherwise.
Blair took his Sentinel by the arm and led him over to the table, pushing him into a chair.
"Look at this Jim. I've looked at our finances. We are in debt, Jim. IN DEBT!! And not a little one by any means. Our credit cards are maxed out, our line of credit's over drawn and the bank accounts have been sucked dry."
Jim processed this, stunned. "How?"
Blair whipped out a sheaf of papers.
"Lube , four dollars a tube, two tubes a day, three hundred and sixty-five days, that's two thousand nine hundred and twenty dollars. Baby wipes, six dollars a box, one box every week, fifty two weeks, that's three hundred and twelve dollars. Take-out, twenty dollars every two days for the year, that's three thousand six hundred and fifty dollars. The toys we bought at the Flirt-n-Buy, one thousand dollars (I told you the harness was too much). One shirt per day that you've torn off me, thirteen dollars (you're lucky I buy at Frenchies) that's four thousand seven hundred and forty-five dollars. Put insurance for the truck, monthly eight hundred dollars (thanks to your expert driving)- nine thousand six hundred dollars; water bill, monthly two hundred dollars (no matter what you say, sharing showers doesn't save) - two thousand four hundred dollars; beer, eighty bucks a month (we have got to stop drinking imported)- nine hundred and sixty dollars; medical bills, ten days in the hospital a month between the two of us, including prescriptions for a year,- eighteen housand dollars, the increased health insurance premiums on top of that. Jim... when you figure in the cost of groceries, the telephone bill (we really shouldn't have had all that phone sex while I was at the conference), electricity, gas, replacing all the guns that you've lost and trucks you've crashed, payments on my student loans, tuition, books, renovating my old bedroom, our trip to Hawaii, the wedding costs....In the four years we've been together we've accumulated...four hundred and forty six thousand one hundred and seventy-four dollars in expenses."
Jim sat stunned. But the figures didn't lie.
"Jim, together we barely take in fifty thousand a year after taxes. That means we have over two hundred thousand dollars to pay off before the bank comes to take everything away. If everything works out like John in Vice said, I could take in over five thousand dollars a night. That's pretty good. At that rate, we could have the debt paid off in two months, with the weekends off, of course."
Jim thought of another man having sex with...Wait. Blair having sex with another man. Blair having sex....not with him (except on weekends) for two months. No Way.
Blair looked at Jim's retreating back (actually at his backside).
"Where you going, Jim? Jim?"
"There's no way I'm waiting two months. With the two of us it shouldn't take even half of that. I'm getting my leather pants. Go warm up the truck."
Jim Ellison, erstwhile detective, current Sentinel of the Great City, lover of the cutest man on earth (Blair, just to remind you all again), walked the streets of his territory. He chased of interlopers, snarling and displaying his triceps, biceps and every other finely tuned major muscle in his body. How dare they move into his area? Besides, all the competition was making it hard to pick up. He shifted in his leather pants, feeling, with no little amount of arousal, the soft supple material hugging his butt (and such a cute butt . . . but -no pun intended- I mentioned that before). Looking across the street he kept an eye on his partner.
"How much?" came an interested voice. A very interested voice. A very familiar voice. Spinning on his heel, Jim came face to face with none other than GQ man himself.
The two men stood staring at each other. And kept staring.
Rafe couldn't believe his eyes. *Why would Jim be here? Under cover?*
Jim couldn't believe his eyes *Why could Rafe be here? Can't get any?*
"Rafe! Fancy meeting you here!" Both men turned as the bouncy bundle of energy, Blair Sandburg, honey bunny to the Sentinel, and Shaman of the Great City, sashayed up to the pair. Jim felt his hackles rise as Rafe's pulse rocketed up and pheromones started pouring from the younger man.
"What are you two doing? A stake out?" Rafe asked, trying not to stare at the front of Blair's jeans, or the outline of the nipple ring, or Jim's incredible ass, or his unbelievable pecs or . . . He forced himself to pay attention to Blair's description of their financial situation.
"So, I decided to come down here, and Jim couldn't let me come by myself so here we are." Blair finished. "Jim, stop that" he scolded as Jim growled at an encroaching john. "The whole point is that you have to let someone approach you."
"Jim doesn't like the idea of me and a stranger," he stage-whispered to Rafe. "He's been sabotaging me all night. Do you know how hard it is to get a trick with him growling at every guy that looks at me?"
The pout on the observer's face was too much. Rafe was suddenly hit by a blinding inspiration, one that would solve his problems *and* help Jim and Blair with their cash flow problem. The other two men could practically see a light bulb glowing over his head, probably a hundred watt bulb at that.
"Hey guys, I have a proposition for you . . . "
"Oh. My. God." Blair moaned as he saw the bedroom. "This is incredible!"
Rafe looked happily about the room in his house. It had been showcased in "Homes of the Underappreciated" three times. Money had its benefits, but only when people recognized that you were indeed wealthy. It also had it's drawbacks. Simon refused to give him anything more than the occasional bit of work, failing to recognize good talent when it crossed his path. But Rafe was content to interrupt meetings with the occasional message and be the deliverer of files, so long as it didn't mess up his suit. The one time he really got involved in a case he had been drugged and hit on the head . . . twice. No siree, the quiet life was just fine with him. He was more than content to let Jim and Blair live in the limelight. Until tonight.
"So just how rich are you?" the observer continued.
"Blair! That's rude!" Jim admonished, wondering exactly how much Rafe had paid for the satin covered oval bed that dominated the room. It had a canopy that softened the red light that filled every crevice. *Ohhh. Touchy feely,* he mused as he ran a hand over the faux fur blanket that draped over the bottom half of the bed - or was it the top half? - or the side half? *how does one halve an oval anyway?* he wondered.
"That's okay Jim" Rafe replied as he carefully hung up his suit jacket in the walk-in closet equipped with floor light to guide him in the case of an emergency. "I believe the term is filthy rich."
"Cool." Blair stood in front of the large picture that occupied most of the back wall. He tilted his head one way, and tilted it the other. "Is that even *possible*?" he asked trying to figure out exactly how one of the figures could fit *that* into *that* while the other figure was doing *that*.
"Oh yes, But I've been told that it requires a lot of concentration." Rafe stepped behind Blair and placed a hand on his shoulder guiding him back toward the bed.
"So, I understand that you have a rather large debt," he said as he slowly slipped the T-shirt off the younger man.
"Yeah, we haven't been living within our means." Blair reciprocated, efficiently unbuttoning Rafe's starched shirt, as Jim made headway on the buttonfly of Blair's jeans. Blair sank onto his stomach on the bed spreading his limbs wantonly. Rafe struggling to undo his own well-pressed pants as Jim insisted on sniffing his neck. Rafe cleared his throat as he gazed at Blair's upturned ass. Jim pushed him down between Blair's legs and the three of them writhed together, skin on skin.
"Well, in today's financial climate it's important to keep savings." Rafe moaned as he urged Blair to his hands and knees, scrabbling in the bedside table for a length of leather and the lube. Blair groaned as a deft hand wrapped the leather strip around his cock and balls, keeping him from coming, despite his desperate desire to.
"Unfortunately, the necessities of life didn't allow for us to put anything away." Jim grabbed the lube and reaching past Rafe, began preparing Blair with the efficiency of . . . of . . . well, he was just efficient okay? He spooned behind Rafe, pressing his erection against the other detective's ass, undulating urgently.
"My accountant would be happy to help you take stock of your options." Rafe slowly stroked the buttocks that clenched in anticipation, stroking the cheeks in time with Jim's gentle exploration of the small hole. Blair began to whimper as another hand, Jim's or Rafe's he couldn't tell - but did it really matter? - began stroking the length of his cock, exploring the wiry hair that obscured his balls.
"I've heard that with stocks rising, deflation isn't really a worry right now." Jim interjected as he stroked Rafe's cock with lubricated fingers, stroking, teasing and circling the head until Rafe cried out, dripping copious amount of liquid onto the silk sheets. *Note to self: bring sheets to dry cleaner* In tandem, the two large men moved forward and Jim slowly guided Rafe into Blair who thrashed his head and groaned as the hard cock impaled him and rubbed insistently against his prostate. Blair pushed back against the hard intruder, wanting more, needing more.
"That's right, inflation is pretty high, but that can definitely be an advantage if you play the market right." Rafe managed to gasp as his balls connected with Blair's ass. The younger man threw a wicked look over his shoulder and deliberately squeezed his internal muscles, threatening to send Rafe into orbit. But he managed to hold on and began to pull out, almost completely before pushing back into the moist heat, thrusting slowly and holding firmly onto Blair, keeping him from increasing the pace.
"Sounds good, although right now there are very few options that I'm really interested in." Jim growled as he decided to get into the action, feeling a bit left out. He grabbed the lube again and stroked one hand down Rafe's back to the swell of his incredibly inviting ass. Rafe bent over Blair, exposing himself to Jim's sensitive gaze, even as he continued to pump in and out of the man beneath him. The Sentinel bent and laved Rafe's perineum, stroking with his tongue where Rafe and Blair were joined. The resultant screams made him chuckle. Blair was moving to an internal rhythm, frantically trying to buck back onto Rafe.
"How about bonds?" Rafe asked as he dangle a pair of handcuffs with a hand he temporarily freed from teasing Blair.
Jim grinned. "Bonds are good."
Jim moved up the bed and took Blair's right wrist, locking the steel around it, idly wondering if the average policeman really made good use out of the required equipment. He looped the chain around a post that held up the canopy and then attached the remaining cuff to Blair's left wrist. The Guide was unable to keep on his hands, forced to rest his weight on his elbows. The change in position tilted his ass up, allowing Rafe to thrust even deeper.
"I'm sure we can find some that yield a high return." Rafe croaked as Jim slid into him, the sensation of filling Blair and being filled by Jim pushing him further toward the edge. Jim began to unleash his strength, fucking the detective with powerful thrusts. Rafe pulled the improvised cock ring from Blair's rampant erection. The observer began to pant and gasp, spasming as Rafe changed the angle of the thrusts, bumping against his prostate in firm, insistent thrusts. Rafe was in ecstasy, unable to choose between moving forward into the tight ass in front of him or back onto the incredibly hard shaft that was moving in and out of him. The decision was soon made for him as the channel surrounding his cock spasmed hard. The resultant orgasm caused sparks in front of his eyes, sending his own convulsions around the cock in his ass. The three men came; screaming (not a girly scream, thank you very much) on the part of Blair, shouting on the part of Rafe, and groaning on the part of Jim. They collapsed, careful to pull out and avoid crushing the person beneath them.
"I think that was definitely worth two hundred thousand dollars."
"Thanks Rafe, we appreciate it."
"No problem. The contract is okay with you?"
"Oh yeah, man. Sex on demand for a month. Who could resist?"
"I'll have my banker make out a check in the morning. Is Jim okay?"
"Yeah, you know how wild cats kinda go comatose after mating? Well Jim likes to get in touch with his primitive side. He'll wake up in about two hours. Some steak tartare always helps."
"I definitely think this is the start of a wonderful partnership."
"You know Blair, it always pays to diversify you know. Perhaps Simon would be interested in making an investment. We could have a shareholder meeting to discuss being multiple partners and merging of assets..."