Bought

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Jim sniffed the air. Something wasn't right. Something was off, some skewed smell filled the air, hanging in it like a miasma of wrongness. Like something good gone bad. He frowned trying to pin it down.



Elusive, it slipped past his grasp. He couldn't quite figure it out. It was a chemical smell, irritating, close to some natural smell, but just not quite, making his nerves twitch, his skin ripple in distaste. He dialed his sense of smell way down, so far down he couldn't pick it up it any longer. He was too fatigued, too frustrated to deal with mysterious smells tonight.



He was tired, having sat in what seemed to him endless and useless meetings all day with the contentious Sentinels who fought over every point, over every request. Much less complicated if his father would merely tell them what he was going to do, instead of talking them into it over days and weeks. Wheedling and bullying until the men thought they'd decided it themselves, when really William had told them subtly, but no less firmly, what he'd expected of them.



If they'd just read the research, or better yet, have their staff read it, men more capable of understanding the work, then they might change their tune. Without all the manipulation and the dramatic speeches. As it was, the whole process was taking too long for Jim's taste. Far too long. It was past time to stop talking and start doing. Give it to them hard and fast and see what they'd do about it. If they'd dare disagree with their ruler.



Either way, Jim hated meetings. They were a waste of energy. He'd rather be out working for a goal, sweating for it, not talking about it all day, forced into inactivity, negotiating periods and commas as much as Laws. He had to listen to grown men complain, whine and clamor for attention like school children for two days, and the blasted thing still wasn't over yet.



Shaking his head he walked down the hall towards the nursery. What the hell was that smell? Artificial, it weighed on his already strained nerves. He growled under his breath, forcing down his rising irritation. Dialled scent down even further until the last wisp of the odor disappeared from his awareness. He turned and was in the hall directly outside of the nursery. Four heartbeats filled his ears. He rounded the corner and looked in.



Blair was laying on the thick mattress that had been placed on the floor. All of the babies were there with him, bundled on the coverings in front of the Guide. He was gazing into the eyes of the one who was awake. His face was enraptured and the baby was just as captivated by the sight of Blair. Jim waited where he was, not moving, watching.



They were beautiful, Blair and his children. Blair's long, curly hair had stolen out from under the veil that he had pushed back off of his face. The locks lay like velvet ropes all around him, much longer than had been the case only a few months ago. Deep chestnut brown, lit with a brilliant auburn.



Despite the officious company in the compound which necessitated his wearing the veil, Blair was safe in removing it here, revealing his face. No one would be able to get to the nursery. Jim's face darkened at the thought of anyone trying. Extra guards had been placed. Well armed Guardians. And Blair knew not to wander any where near the meetings. Anywhere close to the strangers visiting.



Blair was in Heat. Even the civilized veneer of these powerful and well socialized Sentinels stood a strong chance of falling away if they were faced with a Guide in Heat. Of course it also could be the final, convincing factor in William's argument with them. Proving to those who doubted that leaving Blair in his natural state was the right move to enhance his fertility.



But then again, it also might prompt more than a few fights over why Blair hadn't yet been bred again. Or fights between a dozen alpha Sentinels trying to mate with him, with a Guide suffused in the heady scent of Heat. The perfume that invited them to slake their lust, their desire. How many Sentinels ever got the chance any more? To take to their beds a Guide bathed in his natural Heat? It was a rare opportunity, too rare by far.



Fertile Guides were too often taken from their Sentinels now, given to Guide Houses, into the control of Vets who bred them relentlessly until they burned out, their bodies giving up. Bringing to life other Guides fated to live the same lives all over again. And again. Wrong. So wrong.



Well, it would not happen to his Guide. It would not happen to Blair.



Jim was trying to give Blair what he sensed his Guide wanted. Time. Blair wanted time to care for his babies. Time between his pregnancies. A few more months wouldn't alter the fate of the world, would it? Jim would see Blair got that time if at all possible before being bred again. If his own need didn't burn him to a crisp while he waited.



Rafe was taking the brunt of that. His need. Lust. Jim wondered if the younger Sentinel regretted it, being the junior of James Ellison, heir to Cascade. If he wished he wasn't the one Jim turned to every time, reaching out and pulling him underneath, spreading him, entering him and taking him with hard, hungry thrusts until his want and desire no longer threatened to rule him.



Soon it would be time. Blair would have to breed again. Jim couldn't stop the instinctive curl of his lip at the thought of acting like a matchmaker, the involuntary baring of teeth the very idea brought out in him. Letting Blair get attached to another male who would have full, sexual access to Blair's body. Jim's Guide's body. He showed his teeth to the empty hall, brutally suppressing the need to growl out loud this close to Blair and the babies.



Jim had Rafe. And that was good. Rafe was his salvation as he waited. He could feel it, see it if he closed his eyes, the long, lean back stretched under him, feel the movement of the muscle beneath him. Every day, each night he was there. Every night, taken, moaning, sweat dewing his shoulders under Jim's grip, his lean hips, full and yet masculine, a haven for Jim's body to enter into. They fucked. Covering each other in fluids, gasping into sensitive ears, tasting with trembling, eager tongues the flavors of lust.



All in the effort of giving Blair more time.



He was the one they wanted. Jim stretched his neck, his back stiffening. Rafe wanted Blair every bit as much as he did. Rafe was no naturally submissive beta Sentinel. He was alpha. He was waiting for his chance. Someday when Jim's hand loosened, his hold slipping, Rafe would be alpha, his own man. Now, he was Jim's. Jim's to plunder, to honor, to take. And he would have to watch, with longing when Jim took Blair to his bed. Make do with the little Jim didn't consume. The touches and tastes left over. Such was the lot of the junior Sentinel. Lust unrequited, allowed to love and serve only one other, his senior at his senior's beck and call.



Jim turned his gaze back to Blair. To where he lay, so absorbed in his child that he hadn't noticed Jim standing so near and watching him. He watched Blair reach out, stroke a finger over the soft, downy hair fluffing up over the fragile skull of the baby. Blair was caught up in the way the small child reached out, touched his face with awkward absorption.



And Jim...Jim was equally captivated. Caught in a rush of desire. An urgent wanting. Suddenly it was all too much, hot, bursting. He moved across the carpeting, silent, predatory. Sliding down, dragging his shirt open, baring the hard muscle of his chest and belly, leaving the shirt tails to flap. He wrenched his pants open, not bothering to drag them down, just freeing his erection, hot into the cool air.



Time, time. There was no more of it. No more time.



Blair inhaled their scent, the warm, powdery scent of his children his family, sweet and pure. Watched the lift of their fine hair in the current of his breath, felt it under his hands. Had he ever loved anything, anyone so much?



He startled when Jim moved in behind him, jolting in the suddenness, the heat of Jim's naked chest through his own thin robes. Big hands gripped him, his hips, finding their way under the folds of fabric. Seeking.



Oh, god. This wasn't a Sentinel in control. This wasn't Jim come to share in Blair's adoration of his children. A long hard column pressed against him, intimate against his own wet heat. This was a Sentinel ready to mate. Blair's body went liquid even as he panicked.



He tried to turn, to put his hands up and gain space between their bodies. But his loins melted, lubricated, distended. Wanting just this, no matter how hard he'd fought against it, to postpone it. He wanted it more than anything. Jim's hand came down, cupped him, cupped Blair's erection, wrapping around the organ, stroking.



"Jim." Blair gasped, his head going back, the name no more than a moan. Jim took his hand entwining their fingers, pressing their joined hands to Blair's belly and down. Until they stroked together.



"Oh, god." Blair said when he turned his head and looked up into the cool blue eyes. It was too soon. Too soon, wasn't it?



Jim wrapped him up in his arms. Blair's hips lifted, he drew his leg forward, opening himself. And Jim, that easily, slid in.



He was wet when Jim pushed into him. Wet and hot and wanting it more than breath. He groaned dropping his head to the coverlet, feeling the powerful thighs bunching against the back of his own, bracing himself steady, taking in every hard inch. His fists knotted in the comforter. Big handfuls as he pushed back, felt Jim hit deep, all the way. Heard the grunt against his neck, felt the rush of goose flesh standing out all over his body.



Oh, no, it was definitely time.



neichan and Joan Z