fanfic kira - ieg

The Debt

by Kira

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."


Gross Income

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.


"Oh yeah."

"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."

"Oh yeah"

"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..."



"Yes, thank you very much. I'll let them know immediately so we can move them to a safe house." Simon, police captain, boss of the Sentinel of the Great City and his loyal sidekick, cigar afficionado, wooer of hospital nurses, and general hard ass (no comment), hung up the phone with a sigh. A nasty criminal had broken out of the maximum security prison outside of Cascade and was headed into town, in defiance of any good sense, of course, to exact revenge upon the finest partners in the department: Jim 'The Sentinel' Ellison and Blair 'I'm so cute' Sandburg. Those two would be the feather in his cap at his next promotion review and a pain in his ass (no comment) when they found out they were going to be spending the next few days in a safe house. Luckily, since they had become partners, they could share a room . . . and that was always good for keeping the budget down, which the chief appreciated.

"Ellison! Sandburg! My office!" Those opera lessons had really paid off. Just remember to expand the diaphragm, inhale down into the belly, project and voila, the bellow that sent lowly filing clerks scurrying and detectives wondering who was going to have to face his wrath.

"Take a seat." Simon gestured to the two chairs. The two men looked at each other and chorused in perfect harmony (an exact major third if you really must know).

"We'll stand."

Images flashed through Simon's head of a sweaty, naked Blair with an equally sweaty, equally naked Jim, both doing horribly erotic things to each other. Sending a damper to Banks Jr. (*not* Darryl), Simon clamped down on his libido.

"You've got to move to a safe house for the next few days. Johnson escaped from jail and is headed this way."

"Johnson? Is he the guy who had that duck and. . ."Jim asked, wrinkling his manly brow in concentration.

"No, that was Jensen. Johnson, he's the guy who had that shoe fetish. Or was that Johnston?" Blair interrupted, scrunching up his cute little nose, trying to remember.

"Actually, Johnson is the brother of the guy you hit with the truck last year during that chase," Simon interjected.

"Oh yeah. I guess he'd be really mad at Jim huh?"

"Yes he is. Which is why you're being relocated to a safe house until he's caught. We'll have Rafe and Brown take watch detail."

And thus it came to pass that Jim and Blair found themselves in a one bedroom apartment that the department rented for such emergencies. The bed creaked and the sheets weren't silk, but Blair had brought a week supply of lube so it wasn't an entire disaster. They still came into the department during the day and did paperwork. And honoured the terms of their contract. In the interrogation room, the janitor's closet, the break room and, of course, in the bathroom.

"Jim did you ever notice how Rafe is kind of like the Energizer Bunny?" Blair asked after one particularly strenuous workout behind the lockers in the locker room.

"The what?"

"The Energizer Bunny, you know that big pink rabbit with the drum? Well, it just keeps going and going and going. Just like Rafe."

Rafe took his responsibility to his charges *very* seriously, so he decided that being as close to them as possible was the only way to discharge his duty. And if that meant getting a little something on the side, well, that was a sacrifice he would just have to make . . . all in the name of a good cause, of course. One shouldn't allow one's friends to flounder in financial difficulty when a mutually amenable agreement was possible.

It was the third night into the ordeal when Simon received word that Johnson had somehow (and for the sake of continuity we won't inquire) found out the location of the safe house. He called the apartment from his cellular as he sped toward the safe house.

*Ring* . . . *Ring* . . .

" " The sound of the phone hitting the floor sent Simon into a panic. Had Johnson already gotten to them?

"Hello? Jim? Blair? Rafe?"


"Jim? Is that you?"


"Are you all right?"

"ohhhh . . . arrggghh "

"Hang on Jim. I'll be right there! Help's on the way!" Simon ran a red light and drove up onto the sidewalk, plowing through a trash can and scattering shredded paper everywhere. He flicked on the wipers. Cars screeched to a halt and pedestrians scattered as Simon set out to break all of Jim's records for driving.


"Oh God. Rafe, do it again." Rafe complied, thrusting deep into the as yet unplumbed depths of the burly man on his hands and knees before him. Jim had written into the contract a "who tops whom" clause and he was numero uno. Until tonight. Brown had gone for pizza promising to be back 'later'. So the three men had retired to the bedroom, Rafe determined to milk every perk from the contract. Together he and Blair had taken it upon themselves to drive the Sentinel to the edge and Jim had succumbed, finally begging Rafe to "fuck me please!"

And who was Rafe to argue with such persuasive begging? So the three of them were once again writhing together on the bed, making a rather succulent Rafe sandwich. Blair was near comatose, draped against Rafe's back, floating, quite comfortably thank-you-very-much, on a post coital cloud, still embedded in the man who simply wouldn't stop boffing his partner.

But something (other than his exhausted cock) interrupted his rather pathetic attempts at meditation. The phone was ringing. With a well-aimed swing, normally reserved for the clock alarm (which Jim insisted on setting for six o'clock pm), Blair took out the receiver with the accuracy of a hired hit man and it tumbled to the floor.

Jim began to groan as Rafe continued his insistent thrusting, panting and moaning. Blair could feel his own cock hardening *again* as Jim's whimpering pushed the alpha male button deep within Blair's recessive genes. Unfortunately the rest of his body refused to cooperate and he had to be content with riding out the storm, allowing Rafe's clenching hole to do all the work.

Finally, the filling in the sandwich decided to take pity on the bread. And it happened . . . the earth moved, the fireworks exploded, the orchestra played, the fat lady sang, the birds tweeted, stars circled overhead . . . and Simon broke down the door.

The tableau before him was one which Simon had occasionally (okay, frequently . . . okay, okay, every night) imagined while he jerked off at night. But he honestly never thought that it would be in front of him in living colour, and quite nice colour at that.

The three men lay in a mass on the bed, legs and arms so tangled that it was hard to tell where one started and the other ended. Rafe and Blair began the arduous task of figuring out who belonged to what and finally lay side by side on the bed, pushing the unconscious Jim to one side.



"Did you see Simon?"

"I thought I was hallucinating."

"Well, it must be a mass hallucination of two 'cause I saw him too." In unison they raised their heads off the mattress and looked at the door.

"Well gentlemen. Rafe, I'm glad you took my advice to heart and didn't let them out of your sight. Although this is a bit above and beyond the call of duty." Rafe scrambled to his feet and then, realizing the view he was giving his superior officer, grabbed a sheet and wrapped it around his waist.

"Sir. I can explain."

"Don't." Simon held up a hand. Rafe subsided. "I have let this go on for the last three weeks, and I'll have you know I'm very disappointed in all of you."

"But Simon . . ."

"That's 'Captain' to you, Sandburg." Seeing that he had the situation firmly under control, Simon decided that rank had better damn well have its privileges and if he couldn't get a mortgage then he was going to get the next best thing.

"As I was saying. I'm very disappointed. I would have thought more of you. This whole contract . . . and yes I found out about it, they didn't make me a captain just because I was good at kissing ass." Distracted looks came over Rafe and Blair at the very lovely image *that* evoked. Simon continued, ignoring the reactions for the moment. "Blair, you know that I would have been more than happy to help you out with any financial problems. That you didn't come to me is quite the disappointment. Thanks to the settlement I made with Joan, I would have been in a perfect position to help, and I wouldn't have been half as hard to please as Rafe. And as for you, Rafe. I'm disappointed that you didn't come to me regarding your frustrations. And I'm not talking about your lack of case load. Jim, I'll discuss things with later." His cell phone rang and he pulled it out. "WHAT?....oh. Good....I'll let them know."

"That was Connor. She picked up Johnson at the loft. You're all free to go home now."

Feeling rightly chastened, Blair and Rafe met each other's eyes and nodded.

"Well, Captain, sir. There must be *something* that we can do to make it up to you. We've been very negligent in our duties and our friendship." Blair said contritely, walking over to Simon, comfortable in only his skin. "We'd be prepared to do some revising of our contract. I'm sure that Jim wouldn't mind."

As he spoke, Blair slowly unbuttoned Simon's shirt, bringing it down his shoulders and laving an exposed nipple with his tongue.

*boing* Banks JR stood at attention. Oh yeah.

Rafe let the sheet drop and stepped over to encourage Simon's pants to follow suit. The rampant erection that was uncovered, however, appeared to be doing everything to defy gravity.

"I always like to take a test drive before I commit myself to any business venture."

"Lucky for you, we're offering free samples of *all* the goods." Rafe moaned as he lightly stroked the cock in front of his face, trying to avert disaster by undoing Simon's shoes.

A moan came from the bed as Jim began to return to the land of the living. The three standing men glanced at the bed, glanced at each other and decided unanimously that the last one to the bed would be the one who would be on the bottom. Rafe had the benefit of having (as Blair had noted) the sexual constitution of the Energizer Bunny, so despite the earlier hard ride, was primed for the race. Simon had the advantage of longer legs, but Banks JR was putting a decided crimp in his stride. Blair had the disadvantages of being short and having fucked and been fucked within an inch of his life for the last three weeks. But he had the added incentive of being plain tired of being on the bottom all the time.

In the end it was a draw. Jim awoke as his cock was sucked into the eager mouth of Rafe. While he normally was quite happy to wake up to such a pleasant experience, he honestly thought that he wouldn't have anything left to give. His cock had other plans and was happy to dissuade him of that belief as it slowly hardened. It wasn't until he was hard and eager that he realized there was another smell in the room. Cigars. Now there was a phallic symbol if there ever was one. He raised his head and almost came at the sight.

While Rafe was sucking on him like there was no tomorrow, the young man was straddled over Simon's head, his erection being treated like a lollipop that was Simon's favourite flavour. Simon was flat on his back and Blair was on his knees, rocking back and forth, impaled on the captain's erection, having decided that while topping was nice once in a while, having a prostate really made bottoming worthwhile. Twice the pleasure, twice the fun! Jim decided that there would be something poetic about making a complete circle and reached out, with the long arm of law so to speak, and firmly gripped Blair's cock that was being neglected as Blair required both hands to keep his balance over Simon. All talk was reduced to pants and groans and the occasional "oh god" and "more" and "harder" and "yesyesyes" on the part of those whose mouths were otherwise unoccupied. Strangled moans were all to be heard from Simon and Rafe.

Blair started a chain reaction as he moved up and down on Simon's cock, using his weight to get Simon deeper into him, making sure that his prostate was rubbed going up and coming down. His climax took him by surprise, rushing over him as he spurted over Simon's chest and Jim's hand, his internal muscles clamping down on Simon in a rapid set of convulsions. Simon gurgled around Rafe's cock as the tight channel's pulse caused him to erupt into Blair. His scream of ecstasy around Rafe's cock, with a timely thrust on his subordinate's part, allowed the overwhelmed captain to quite easily deep throat the hard shaft which was Rafe's undoing. Rafe came with an agonized groan, as he continued to milk Jim. And poor, poor Jim. He lost all control on his sense, revelling in the heady scent of their passion, focussing on the sweating, naked bodies surrounding him, the feel of firm muscles, soft skin, varying textures of hair, the sound of panting, the taste of sweat and semen. He came with the force of an explosion from deep within, filling Rafe's throat. The world spiralled away.

"He's out again, isn't he?" Rafe managed to squeak as he released Jim.

"Yup." Blair rolled off of Simon and sprawled on his back. He tilted his head back to look up at Simon.

"So, do you like the merchandise? We can do wholesale if you like."

"Cut me in."