By: Lyn

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Disclaimer: The Sentinel and its characters are the property of Di Meo and Bilson and Petfly. This story has been written for the enjoyment of others and myself. No money has changed hands.

Category: Drama, First time.

Rating: NC-17

Warning: This story contains graphic descriptions of m/m sex.

Pairing: J/B.

"I’ve come around, I’ve finally started learning

That love was always somewhere in my heart

‘Cause through my life this crazy world kept turning

Round and round until I found it right here where you are

The circle of love - never will end

It might roll away but it comes round again

Like the turn of a heart down a road that is true

My circle of love rolled around to you

You held my heart - so careful not to break it

Taking me for what I really am

You changed my world, and now I know you make it

A little better every day in every way you can

‘Cause you believed - that love was alive

We found the way - you and I

The circle of love - never will end

It might roll away but it comes round again

Like the turn of a heart down a road that is true

My circle of love rolled around to you." – Keith Potger and Rick Beresford

"Circle of love"

Blair bounded up the stairs and into the loft, his mood light despite the gloom of the wet winter evening. He looked around the neat apartment but could see no sign of his partner. Jim’s truck had been parked in its usual spot when he arrived home, so he knew the detective was home.

"Jim?" he called.

"In the bathroom. I got soaked. I’m gonna take a shower," came the disembodied voice.

Blair wandered into the kitchen and sniffed appreciatively at the spaghetti sauce bubbling gently on the stove. Picking up the wooden spoon from its rest, he ladled up a small amount and blew on it before tasting it. "Mmm, not bad, big guy," he whispered.

The voice came again from the bathroom as he heard the shower start. "That sauce has been made to my recipe, Sandburg. It doesn’t need anything added to it."

"Sure thing, Jim. Whatever you say," Blair answered as he furtively reached for the oregano. Giving the pot a final stir, he wandered back into the living room and spied Jim’s laundry that he’d left draped over the back of a chair, the plastic cover dripping water onto the floor.

"Tsk, tsk, detective," Blair said softly as he picked up the clothes and peeled off the plastic. "House rule #15. Don’t leave clothes lying around the apartment. No dessert for you."

Blair padded up the stairs and laid the clothes on Jim’s neatly made up bed. As he turned to leave, his eyes alighted on an elegantly embossed sheet of paper, lying partly obscured by the sleeve of one shirt. Blair pushed the clothes to one side and ran a finger gently over the heavy gold lettering that adorned the ivory colored paper. Then, noting the handwritten paragraph below the print, curiosity got the better of him and he picked the letter up.

Taking a quick glance at the stairs for any sign of Jim’s presence, he began to read. It was an invitation from Steven, Jim’s brother, to a New Year’s Eve party at his house and Blair grinned in delight. The brothers had had a rocky reintroduction to their relationship after being estranged for many years. Over the past year or so, the two men had slowly begun to reestablish a warm friendship with one another.

The circle had seemed complete when Jim had been able to help his father during a murder investigation that was linked to the detective’s childhood. Jim had been able to resolve at least some of his anger at William Ellison’s aloof parenting and at having been forced to suppress his sentinel abilities. His father had, understandably, been terrified that his son would be treated like a circus freak or institutionalized. The fact that William was a single parent and a busy executive made family life for Jim and his little brother almost non-existent. Blair felt all the more grateful for his own mother. Though Naomi was a free spirit and her notions on child rearing unusual to some, she had ensured that Blair had always known that he was a loved and wanted child. She had been so successful that Blair had never felt a need to find his unknown father.

Blair knew that William did not feel comfortable around him, perhaps misinterpreting his role in Jim’s life as his guide. Then again, Blair mused; maybe his gaydar was just exceptionally good, although Blair thought he did a good job of disguising his bisexuality beneath a constant stream of dates with pretty women.

Blair ignored the details of the invitation for now and instead let his eyes skim down to the handwritten portion of the letter.


Dad would prefer it if you didn’t bring Blair to the party. He wants it to be a family thing, though I think we both know he’s never been very comfortable around Blair. I don’t have a problem with the guy personally, what he does in his own time is his business, but dad’s getting on in age and now that we’re all finally back in touch with each other, I don’t want to ruin things. We’ve already lost mom; I’d like to honor Dad’s wishes on this.

Looking forward to seeing you,


"Looking for something, Chief?"

The voice at his back startled him and he dropped the letter as though it had burnt his fingers, watching as it fluttered slowly to the floor.

"I, uh, brought your shirts up," Blair stuttered. "I saw the invitation, just curious," he mumbled, feeling his face flush.

He watched Jim turn to the cupboard and pull out a t-shirt and jeans.

"I was hoping not to have to mention it," Jim said, without turning around.

"Hey, no problem here, man," Blair assured him. He backed away toward the staircase as he spoke. "I don’t know why your dad dislikes me so much, but it’s cool."

Jim sat on the edge of the bed and began to put on his socks and shoes. "It’s life, Sandburg. Not everybody in the world is going to like you, regardless of what a great guy you are. I’m not exactly top of the hit parade as far as Naomi’s concerned either," he finished with a smile.

"It’s your job she dislikes, not you," Blair reasoned patiently. He turned and started down the stairs, then stopped and looked back. "Anyway, I could care less what your father thinks of me."

Even before he saw the indignation flare in Jim’s eyes, he regretted the words. "Jim…"

"If you hadn’t been poking around in my things, your feelings wouldn’t have been hurt," Jim countered acidly.

Blair glared at him for a moment, then clattered noisily down the stairs. "I’m going out," he called over his shoulder. "Don’t wait up."


Blair sat in a booth in a corner of Dobey’s bar and wondered how many beers it would take to get him drunk. Not tipsy, but mind paralyzing, soul numbing blind. He’d had four beers so far and he felt as sober as when he came in, and as empty. He was surprised that he didn’t feel cold though. He’d been caught in a heavy downpour as he left the loft and he was drenched to the skin, his hair hanging in dripping rat’s tails about his face.

Time to change tactics.

He waved a loose wrist at the barman. " Hey, Joey, bring me a bottle of scotch."

"I think, maybe, you’ve had enough, Chief."

Blair blinked owlishly as Jim materialized next to him.

"May I sit down?"

"Hey Jim, sure. Pull up a pew."

The two men sat in silence for a moment. Blair watched as Jim nervously shredded a paper napkin.

"How did you find me?" Blair asked finally.

"It’s a secret," Jim replied, smiling gently at his partner. "I’m not supposed to tell anyone, but I think you already know. Why don’t you come home, so you can get dried off and warm, and we’ll talk."

"Nah, thanks anyway, Jim," Blair answered, draining his beer glass. "Think I’ll hang here for a bit, maybe go visit some friends. At least, I think they’re my friends."

"So you’re just going to sit here and feel sorry for yourself, huh?" Jim asked.

Blair shrugged casually. "Maybe. There’s nothing to talk about anyway."

"Sure there is," Jim countered. He stood and draped his jacket over Blair’s wet shoulders. "The reason I wasn’t going to mention Steven’s party to you is because I’d already decided not to go."

Blair remained seated at the table but looked up at Jim’s words. "You have to go, man. They’re your family."

Jim shook his head and helped Blair to his feet. "You’re my family. Let’s talk about this at home." He squeezed Blair’s hand and then laid a gentle palm on his cheek. "You’re freezing. You need to warm up."


Later, Jim would not be able to pinpoint the moment when friendship became love. Then again, perhaps it had always been there and Jim had simply failed to recognize it for what it was. He had loved Blair as a brother for almost all the time he had known him, feeling a deep, intrinsic and sometimes overpowering need to protect the young man, who had given so much of his life to guide Jim in his sentinel abilities. The love he felt now for Blair was just as deep, just as overpowering but was overlaid with a primal, physical attraction that he had never felt before, for anyone. The most curious aspect of it all was that he felt no need to analyze it. He knew he loved Blair and that was all there was to it and it felt as though he had loved him forever.

Having finally convinced Blair to go home with him, Jim concentrated on getting the anthropologist marginally more sober than he was and warm. Although Blair had insisted that he wasn’t cold, Jim could feel him shivering beneath the layers of wet clothes. The only dry item he had on was Jim’s leather jacket. Blair had stormed out of the apartment without a coat or hat and into one of the worst rainstorms of the year.

By the time the two men entered the loft, Blair was shaking violently with cold and he was no longer denying how miserable he felt. Jim started the shower and helped Blair strip off his clothes. As he turned to leave the bathroom, Blair stopped him with a touch on his arm.

"I’m sorry. I was an arrogant asshole."

"You had reason to be offended," Jim said sincerely.

Blair shook his head. "No, you were right. I had no reason to read your personal mail and then act like a spoilt kid because I didn’t like what I read. I certainly had no right to say what I did about your father. He deserves some respect regardless of his feelings for me." He paused for a moment and adjusted the water temperature. "What did you mean about me being your family?" Blair asked as he stepped under the spray.

"I guess it’s something that I’ve known for a long time. I just didn’t see it for what it was," Jim answered.

"And that would be what exactly?"

Jim reached into the shower and placed his palm on Blair’s cheek, brushing away the wet curls that cascaded over his face with the flow of the water. Not knowing how else to explain himself, he bent forward and slid his hand around to the back of Blair’s head, pulling his friend toward him.

"Jim," Blair whispered.

Jim said nothing, but allowed his lips to meet Blair’s. He sighed as Blair’s mouth opened beneath his and a tentative tongue snaked out to entwine with his. His other arm began a slow sensual stroke down Blair’s back, and he moved closer, under the spray.

Blair broke away for a moment, panting and stared at Jim. "Your clothes are getting wet," he said finally.

Jim peeled off his clothes; aware that Blair’s eyes never left his. As he stepped into the shower and took Blair into his arms once more, the young man spoke again. "Are you sure?"

Jim didn’t answer except to kiss him again, his mouth opening to suck and lick and taste him more deeply. Blair’s eyes closed and he ran his hands softly over Jim’s broad chest, then down his shoulders to his strong fingers. He brought Jim’s right hand up and gently kissed the palm, then took each finger into his mouth for a slow caress. Jim closed his eyes and arched forward into Blair’s touch, his face turned upward into the warm spray. He allowed Blair to lower his mouth to his chest and then he felt the exquisite sensation of him sucking gently on a nipple as he stroked the other to hardness.

Blair’s hands moved lower to gently cup his balls and then he was on his knees, one hand gently stroking Jim’s ass as he opened his mouth and took his hard, leaking cock into his mouth. Jim pushed into the moist heat, one hand moving up to wrap itself in the soft curls on Blair’s head as his hips thrust forward and back involuntarily in an age old primitive rhythm. Jim looked down to see his cock moving forcefully in and out of Blair’s lush mouth, then he closed his eyes and came with a rush as Blair stroked a gentle finger across his opening.


The two men had dried off and Jim bent to kiss the top of Blair’s head.

"Come upstairs with me," he whispered, reaching for Blair’s hand.

He was shocked when his lover pulled away and moved back a step or two. "Blair? What’s wrong? I thought you wanted this too."

Blair waved a hand at him and tightened his robe around him. "I do, believe me. I just never thought that you would." He reached out and took Jim’s hand, kissing the palm and laying it for a moment against his warm cheek. "It’s just going a little fast for me, man. I need to process all of this. I’m going to bed. Can we talk in the morning?"

"Sure, Chief," Jim answered, nodding. "Goodnight."


Jim pottered around the loft for a couple more hours, feeling too wired to sleep. He berated himself for making advances to Blair when he was upset and half drunk, knowing that his partner could well interpret his sudden actions as being out of pity. The more he thought about it, the more terrified he became that he had frightened Blair away. Finally, exhaustion overcame his muddled thoughts and he dragged himself upstairs to bed, where he lay listening to his guide’s heartbeat below, its rapid beat indicating that he too was still awake.

He heard Blair padding up the staircase in the darkness and rolled over to check the time. 3am. His breath caught in his throat and his heart began to pound as he fought off his black thoughts. Jim watched as Blair stood at the top of the stairs, running a hand nervously through his unruly curls.

"Come on in," Jim said. His mouth felt dry and he swallowed nervously. "I wasn’t asleep."

Blair stepped forward hesitantly at first, then rushed forwards and sat heavily on the edge of the bed with a sigh. "What’s happening here, Jim?" he asked softly.

"You’re the observer, you tell me," Jim replied lightly, reaching for Blair’s hand, but he pulled it away roughly.

"Don’t make a joke out of this. If you are not totally serious about us, or if you just did that," he gestured downstairs, "to make me feel better about the invitation or especially if you did that because you felt sorry for me, then I’ll pack now."

Jim sat up and scooted back so he rested against the headboard. "I’m joking because I’m scared." Blair turned to face him and he once more took his hand, relieved when he didn’t pull away. "Not scared of what we did, I’ve wanted that for so long. Scared because I thought I might have driven you away and I don’t think I could live without you in my life."

"You won’t get rid of me that easily," Blair smiled. "You’ve never shown any indication that you’re or bi."

Jim shrugged nonchalantly. "I don’t think I am, not in the truest sense of the word. I don’t feel turned on by any guy, apart from you. Maybe, it’s a sentinel-guide thing."

Blair groaned and leaned back, closing his eyes. "Just please don’t be fucking with me, man. I don’t think I could take that." He felt the bed dip next to him, and then Jim was loosening his robe, stroking a strong hand across his chest and down beneath the waistband of his boxers. Blair arched into the touch with a moan and lifted his hips as Jim tugged his shorts down to his ankles.

Jim pushed Blair’s legs apart and knelt between them, bending to nuzzle gently at his balls. "Oh, I’m definitely fucking with you, Sandburg. Just not the way you mean."

Blair’s thoughts were scattered as Jim’s hot mouth engulfed his straining cock and he came back to himself to see Jim hovering over him, his slick hard length deep within Blair’s ass. Jim began to fuck him hard, silently, passionately, nailing Blair’s prostate over and over. Blair opened his legs wider and angled his hips up to take Jim deeper, crying out as another stroke to the gland within wrenched his orgasm from him. His clenching muscles milked Jim’s orgasm from him leaving them both sated and exhausted.


Blair woke to sunshine streaming through the window of the loft, a cool breeze chasing away the last vestiges of the storm. His body felt warm and heavy and he could feel Jim spooned closely behind him. He tried to recall the details of the previous night’s argument but his mind could conjure up only the memories of their passionate lovemaking. An insistent hand lightly cupping his vaguely interested cock and the gentle stroking of fingers across his ass helped him decide that he didn’t really care, only that he was immensely glad that it had happened.




-December 13th 2000


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