Bossy Babe by Kerensa

Bossy Babe - Kerensa


Notes: This takes place about 2 weeks after the Debt. The italic and bold sentences indicate conversations that Jim is hearing with his Sentinel senses.


“Ellison! My office, now!”

More than one head dipped in sympathy when Banks yelled. Not that anyone was surprised. Except when talking to his son, Daryl, his secretary, Rhonda, or some higher up on the phone, yelling was generally Captain Simon Banks’ modus operandi. Still, it was no fun to be on the receiving end of the roar.

“Yes, sir,” Jim answered, after glancing up at the tall captain.

Banks grunted in reply and turned around to head back into his office, never doubting for a moment that the detective wouldn’t follow along behind him. He sat down behind his desk and looked at the paperwork scattered across the desktop with a disgusted look on his face. Simon had become a cop to do good in this world and he considered paperwork to be the antithesis of good. Necessary? Yes, but still evil.

“You wanted to see me, sir?”

Simon, who was not in a good mood, had to fight the urge to roll his eyes. Of course he wanted to see Jim, which would be the reason that he had hollered for him. However, being a good diplomat, and an even better friend to Jim, he resisted the temptation.

“I have a new case for you,” Simon began. He explained what was what to Jim, who now had his own reason to be in a foul mood.


Several hours later

"I can't believe he still has that little hippie punk living with him."

Jim slowed down; his walk back to the bullpen was delayed by a quick trip into the break room. That wasn't where the people speaking were located, but Jim, being a Sentinel, naturally didn't need proximity to hear them, just a place to concentrate without distraction. The selection in the snack machine was suddenly very fascinating to the detective.

"Yeah, I was surprised too. Would have thought that 'Ice Ellison' would have kicked the kid to the curb the first day he was here, let alone after living with him for any amount of time.

The detective frowned at the 'Ice Ellison' comment. He wasn't that bad. Was he?

Someone snorted. The talking continued, only it was a woman's voice this time. "Yeah. Well, what do you want to bet that Curly is paying the rent horizontally.”

Jim recognized the woman as Janine Richardson. They had dated a few times when he'd first transferred in from vice. To say that things hadn't gone well was a vast understatement. Between Jim's attitude and her clinging, they definitely hadn't hit it off. But that had been several years ago. Long before he and Carolyn married. It was even back before his old partner, Jack, had died. Janine obviously held a grudge, if the nasty comments she was making were any indication.

"I don't know," one of the men stated; it was the first guy, the one who started the conversation in the first place. "Ellison doesn't seem gay to me. Sandburg would probably be open to most anything, but I can't see Ellison putting it to a guy."

Janine snorted again, knowingly. Jim frowned and turned his head towards her direction, even though she was several rooms away and couldn't see him. Where did she get off with that attitude? The two of them had kissed, but hadn't gone much farther than that. It wasn't like she knew his sexual preferences. Hell, he and Carolyn had been married for over a year and even she didn't really know what Jim liked in bed. And where did any of them come off talking about Sandburg that way. He hadn't been at the station long enough for anybody to make pronouncements about his sexuality. Yeah, Blair had long hair, but there was nothing remotely feminine about the smaller man.

"I'll bet Sandburg could convince him. Have you seen the way he looks at..."

"Can't decide?" Jim jumped a foot in the air and winced as the voice assaulted his sensitive eardrums. He had his hearing dialed up to hear the far off conversation, so Henri's close voice was like being screamed at.

"You okay, babe?" The other man asked him, concern seeping through in his voice.

"Yeah, I'm fine, H. Just engrossed with the tantalizing selection." Jim waved at the half empty machine sarcastically.

Brown snorted, even as he headed for the coffee maker. "I think I'll stick with some liquid refreshment, it's safer."

"I wouldn't be so sure of that," the Sentinel commented after taking a sniff of the air.

"Yeah, maybe you're right," Brown said, as he sniffed at the coffee pot and a burned smell wafted out. "I wonder how long this has been boiling?” he queried.

"There's no telling," Jim admitted with a negative shake of his head. He watched as his fellow detective poured out the offending liquid and started another batch of coffee brewing. Ellison absently scratched at his arm.

"So, how's the Frenetti case coming along?" he asked Henri. The black man began to regale him with some of the small time hood's more pathetic attempts to escape justice. Jim was laughing along with him when...

"Uh, are you alright?" Henri's voice broke into Jim's thoughts. He looked at the younger man questioningly. "You are scratching at your arm."

Jim glanced down and realized that he had been scratching his arm without even realizing it. He frowned and ran his nails over his neck, which was also tingling and irritating him. In fact, his whole body was beginning to drive him crazy; irritated nerve endings really starting to jangle.


"You ate what?!" Blair shrieked.

Jim winced at the volume, but for once his Guide wasn't going to subdue his reactions to spare Jim. Oh, there had been plenty of concern at the station, after Simon had called Blair at the university. As usual, his lover had dropped everything and come running to help. Jim didn't want to think about what kind of trouble the anthropologist was going to get into for missing even more of his office hours.

“A fruit rollup,” Jim admitted. He had to steel himself so as not to flinch.

“Are you kidding me?! Those things have enough preservatives in them to keep a dinosaur intact indefinitely!”


“You need to take a shower.” The younger man put his hands on his hips and glared at the older man until Jim stood up to do his bidding. “And don’t forget to use the oatmeal soap,” he called after the Sentinel, who acknowledged the order with a wave of his hand.

Blair sighed and shook his head. He let his hands drop to his sides and waited until he heard the shower starting up before he relaxed enough to lean against the chair.

“I can’t believe him,” Blair muttered. “Something chock full of artificial sweeteners and preservatives. How many times have I shown him The List?”


…The List.

Ellison guiltily dialed his sense of hearing back down to normal levels; maybe even a tad lower than that. It was true, he knew better than to eat most of the foods in the vending machines.

The List was something that Blair had compiled over the last few months that they’d known each other. It contained all of the things that had caused adverse reactions with his hyperactive system and the precious few that were useful.

Ellison used the soap with oatmeal in it, just as he'd been ordered to do. The natural cleanser felt good on his irritated skin, soothing down the still jangling nerves. Jim dried off with one of the large, extra fluffy, white towels that Blair had insisted they buy a few weeks ago. The material was soft, not scratchy like his old towels had been. The Sentinel knew he could relax, because Blair always made certain that any materials or products used in the loft were 'Sentinel safe'.

Jim put on the oft washed sweat pants and loose t-shirt that Blair had brought in while he was in the shower. Again, Ellison didn't have to worry, because he knew that they too would have been washed in 'safe' detergent.

The ex-Ranger walked out of the bathroom, carefully closing the door behind him, and stood for a moment, getting the lay of the land, so to speak. He could see how stiffly Blair was standing at the stove; his back was tense enough that the younger man was going to be sore tomorrow. The stink of anger wasn't pouring into the air quite as badly as it had been when they'd first arrived home, but the anger was still there.

Jim got as far as the dining room when Blair spoke up. "I've got supper fixed." Blair's voice sounded tense and brittle, like he was holding himself tightly in check. Jim decided not to argue with the unspoken demand and sat down at the table.

Bowls of warm stew and slices of thick, crusty bread were placed in front of him. Sandburg's stew was one of Jim's favorite meals and it thrilled the Sentinel no end to know that no matter how mad Blair was at him, the younger man still pampered and took care of him.

The detective took a drink of his water and picked up a vegetable to nibble on while his soup cooled. A frown crossed the older man’s face as he remembered something.

“Damn,” Jim cursed. “I forgot.”

“Forgot what?” Blair asked, as he paused, preparatory to taking a bite.

The Sentinel slumped in his seat for a moment, not wanting to move when he’d just gotten settled. “I told Simon that I’d call this evening to give him an update on how I was doing.” Jim started to stand up, going to make that call.

“Sit down and eat your dinner,” Blair growled at Jim.

The Sentinel sat back down in astonishment, his butt hitting the chair with a plop. The baby carrot that he was about to put in his mouth hung limply between his thumb and forefinger.

Blair pointed a finger at the chair and continued, “You can call Simon after you finish eating. Don’t you dare get up from there or I will spank your butt.”

The younger man stood up and was walking away as he finished the sentence. Jim continued not to say anything, but his silence was eloquent. Blair stopped halfway to the kitchen and turned back around. He looked at the detective with narrowed eyes.

“Is it that you don’t think I will or you don’t think I can?” Blair asked.

Jim, wisely, kept his mouth shut. He only opened it a moment later to pop the rest of the carrot inside. Ellison traced a pattern on the table with one finger, not saying anything to Blair, but not ignoring him either.

“Huh.” Blair calmly finished his walk into the kitchen. Ellison could see the anthropologist picking up a plate of cornbread that the younger man had obviously forgotten to put on the table.

The ex-Ranger squirmed a little in his chair. He glanced into the kitchen to make sure that Blair wasn’t looking and reached down to adjust himself. Ellison was amazed to discover that the idea of Blair spanking him didn’t make him mad. On the contrary, it was titillating.


“Here you go.” Blair was holding out a bowl with strawberry shortcake in it. Jim reached across the table and picked up Blair’s empty plate and stacked it on his own and then set the pair to one side to make room for the yummy looking desert.

“Thanks, Chief,” Jim said. He took a big bite, one that included crust, strawberries and a healthy amount of whipped cream. The older man closed his eyes in bliss as the multitude of flavors exploded across his taste buds. “Damn, that’s good,” he complimented.

“Uh, thanks.” Blair’s voice was a little husky; watching Jim’s orgasmic display over the desert made talking a dicey proposition.

Jim smiled up at his young lover and was thrilled to see Blair's countenance thaw somewhat. Blair's whole face lit up when he smiled and Jim vowed then and there to do his part to make it happen more often.

They had finished the stew--Jim got seconds--before the conversation resumed. "A fruit rollup, Jim?"

Ellison ducked his head and sighed; he hoped Blair was through reaming him out. He shrugged one shoulder.

"What were you thinking?" A hint of irritation had crept back into that deep voice.

"I forgot, Chief. The list went straight out of my head. H and I were talking and for a couple of minutes there I felt normal."

"Hmmmm," Blair hummed. The Sentinel wasn't sure if that was a good sign or a bad one. "Normal, huh."

"Well, yeah," Jim admitted. Being a Sentinel had its good points, but there were a lot of pitfalls as well; watching each and every bite that went into your mouth was at the top of the list. Jim knew that Blair wouldn't understand. The anthropologist saw Ellison as someone special, unique, not a freak like his father had once labeled him. That was wonderful, but there were times he'd give most anything to be a little less 'special'.


Jim called Simon and reassured the captain that he was fine, after he’d looked to Blair and received a grudging nod of agreement. Again, Jim had squirmed a little, adjusting himself inside of his pants. A forceful Blair was damned sexy.

“Are you sure, Jim?” Simon’s voice brought Jim back to the here and now.

“Yes, sir. I am fine now, Blair took care of me.”

Simon snorted, letting his opinion on Blair’s abilities be known. Jim didn’t argue. For one thing, it wouldn’t do any good; Simon had to realize what an asset Blair was on his own. Also, Jim didn’t want Blair to know that Simon doubted him.

“Well, alright.” Ellison didn’t blame his friend for being worried, not after the scene he’d inadvertently caused earlier in the day. “See you tomorrow.”

“Bright and early, Simon.”

Jim hung up and glanced at the table; dishes were scattered across the surface in a variety of messes. His Sentinel nerves began to twitch at the sight.

"Leave those," Blair ordered when Ellison started to pick up their dishes, "I'll stack them in the sink and we can wash them tomorrow."

Ellison started to protest, because he hated the idea of leaving dirty dishes in the sink, but one look at Blair's narrow-eyed gaze had him biting his lips to keep that suggestion mute. Blair's gaze trailed down to Jim's lips. He arched one eyebrow, Spock-like, before tilting his head to one side and staring back up at the older man. Jim was halfway up the stairs before it occurred to him that he had obeyed Blair without a second thought. He hesitated for a moment at the top of the stairs, not sure if he should reassert himself or not. After all, he was the Sentinel here. Who was in charge, after all?

"Jim," Blair said in a warning tone.

Jim hurried over to the bed and lay down, waiting for Blair to appear. As he was staring up at the ceiling, the Sentinel realized the truth. Who was in charge? Blair, that's who. The ex-Ranger was pondering that when he heard his lover's footsteps coming up the stairs.

Blair was revealed, one step at a time, as he ascended the stairs. First, his curly hair and deep blue eyes. Next came his jaw, with its perpetual five o'clock shadow. Then came his...nipple ring!

Ellison's eyes widened when he saw that Blair had taken off his shirt. He dialed up his vision to better enjoy the sight before him, something that he deeply appreciated when the rest of Blair was revealed, because it was all of Blair. The younger man had taken his clothes off downstairs. Forget Venus rising from a clamshell, Blair was ten times more breathtaking than some wet bimbo on an oyster.

"Chief," Jim began, his voice husky.

"Shhhh, no talking." Blair stated softly.

Jim nodded and awaited his next instruction. Blair stood for a moment, eyeing him. The Sentinel had never felt so exposed in all his life, and he still had his clothes on!

"Get undressed," Blair ordered, as if he’d read his mind.

Ellison quickly lifted his hips and wriggled his sweats and underwear off. He tossed them to the floor on the far side of the bed, completely ignoring his own, personal house rules. The white t-shirt soon joined the small pile.

Blair lay down on the bed beside Jim. Ellison turned onto his right side so that he could look directly into his lover's face. Blair reached up and cupped Jim's cheek with one hand before leaning over to claim his lips. Not wanting to be left out, Jim slid his hand behind Blair's neck to deepen their kiss.

Blair's hand slid down Jim's back. He stopped when he reached the Sentinel's waist, where he hooked one hand around the taut muscles and pulled their lower bodies into closer contact. Jim gasped as their manhood’s rubbed against one another. It was hot and silky and the feelings to someone with Sentinel senses was indescribable.

Blair reached one hand back, taking hold of Jim’s erection and steadying it. Slowly, the smaller man sank down onto the thick erection, sliding it into his body, inch by incredible inch.

Jim gasped and closed his eyes as he was taken farther and farther into Blair’s body. Hearing a moan, the Sentinel opened his eyes. He dialed up his eyesight to compensate for the darkness of the night.

Blair’s head was thrown back, his dark curls caressing his shoulders. The anthropologist’s chest was heaving and his throat flexed as his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down.

“Chief?” Jim asked in concern; Blair seemed to be more in pain than anything.

Blair’s head snapped up and his eyes opened. Jim could see the blaze of passion in the dark blue depths.

“Don’t even think about moving,” Blair ordered sternly. Jim swallowed hard, because the command in that husky voice was making his insides quiver. Blair gave him a saucy, filthy grin. “Good.”

Jim soon felt himself being pulled in by the tactile sensations. He didn't really want to lose out on the moment, but the way Blair's body felt on his was too intense to dial down. The Sentinel felt himself slipping under when...

"Don't you dare zone on me, James Joseph Ellison."

Blair's command was enough to snap Jim out of his almost zone. The detective looked up at his lover and licked his suddenly arid lips.

His lover's hair was free and bounced, creating sparks of light, each time Blair drove himself up and down on Jim's cock. The anthropologist was sweating; the moisture made his chest glisten in the light from the full moon that was coming in from the skylight. Blair's deep blue eyes were almost black with arousal.

Blair looked like a wild, fey creature from old.

"You zone, man, and I'll just keep riding you until I get off," Blair promised.

Intellectually, Jim knew that the threat was an empty one, because there was no way that Blair would ever risk his Sentinel's life. But the idea. Oh, the idea of him being blissed out on sex while Blair finished pleasuring himself was enough to send a bolt of lust straight to his balls and make Jim groan at the almost too much stimulation.

Blair grinned ferally. Jim's reaction to Blair's 'threat' was definitely an ego boost. He braced his hands on Jim's shoulders and began to pound his hips up and down faster.

"Like that, do you, Big Guy? Hmmmm, we may have to do some experimenting with ropes, and feathers. And other toys."

The Sentinel discovered a heretofore undiscovered kink where dirty talk was concerned. “What kind of toys?” he asked breathlessly.

The grad student’s eyes lit up when he heard the Sentinel’s eager tone. “Hmmm, butt plugs of all sizes. Ones little enough that you could wear all day and keep you twitching. Medium sized ones that you could wear during the poker games and squirm.” Blair tweaked one pebble like nipple and gave a little laugh when Jim’s chest arched at the stimulation. “It’d be interesting to see you trying to hide how turned on you were with all the guys sitting around the table.”

Jim added exhibitionism to his list of kinks. The thought of sitting around the table with his friends at the same time he was being impaled on a dildo made him groan. Ellison could close his eyes and picture the knowing grin that Blair would have on his face each and every time he wriggled on his chair.

“Maybe a paddle.”

Jim’s eyes popped open. Blair had his eyes closed again, either imagining what he’d do with the paddle or enjoying riding Jim. Either way was hot.

“That way, when you are a bad little boy I could bend you over the back of the couch and spank you until you were bright red.” Blair twisted his hips and gasped. “Then I’d take you, right in front of the windows.”

The stimulation, both physical and verbal began to add up. Feeling the tingle begin in his balls, Ellison reached up for Blair's dick, wanting his lover to come at the same time. One touch was all it took and Blair was coming. The feel of Blair's passage spasming around his dick and seeing the look of passion on Blair's face was enough to tip Jim over.


Afterwards, Blair lay in Jim's arms, his left leg flung over Jim's thighs possessively. Ellison's arm was wrapped around Blair's back, just as possessively. The Guide's free arm was across his Sentinel's abdomen, anchoring him to the bed.

Jim burrowed his nose into the silk that was Blair’s hair and inhaled deeply, intoxicated by the smell that was uniquely Blair. As he took the breath, other scents filled his nose. The sweat drying on both of their bodies, the odor of their completion smeared in and around them.

"Forget normal," Jim muttered to himself.

Blair, his cheek pressing against Jim's chest where his head was resting, smiled. Mission complete.

The End.

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Notes: My friend, Rob, pointed out that even someone who is bottoming can still be in control. {g} This is for Patt, who wanted a Pushy Blair story and made a nice donation to the Moonridge Auction to get it. Thanks to Patt for the cover art.