Reflections 
by R'rain	 

 
 
He could smell the ocean from their hotel room window--not the heavy, 
cold scent of Cascade but a salty breeze that caressed him on its way 
past.  Hawaii was as beautiful as he remembered it, from all those 
years ago.  A little more populated, a little more commercial, but 
still as beautiful.   
 
"Great view from out here, Chief," he said, wishing he could mention 
those things Blair couldn't possibly know or experience himself.  
"Come take a look." 
 
"In a minute, man.  I'm still unpacking."  The voice, which should 
have been muffled by the blinds and the half-closed door, was crystal 
clear to Jim's ears. 
 
"Unpacking can wait."  //You have to see this with me.  It's 
beautiful.//  "The wedding's not for another two days; we have plenty 
of time.  Besides, Terry and Kim promised they'd never get married 
without you there.  Or did you forget how you got *your* way paid?  I 
had to dip into my emergency funds."  He grinned ruefully at Blair's 
laugh. 
 
"You didn't *have* to come." 
 
"No," said Jim casually, "but who was I to turn down an invitation to 
Hawaii?  I've been dying to hit these waves again for years." 
 
"So," said Blair, changing the subject but not before a light snort 
escaped him, "do you want the bed on the left or the bed on the 
right?" 
 
"Whichever one you drop my bags on is fine with me," he said 
indifferently, leaning on the balcony railing and staring out across 
the water.  "Don't take too long, I want to get dinner and be in bed 
early tonight." 
 
"Hey, do me a favour, Jim?" 
 
"What?" 
 
"When you get up at 5 a.m., just let me sleep, okay?" 
 
"Deal," he agreed, smiling as Blair joined him on the balcony. 
 
"Wow, you're right about the view.  How did *we* rate such a great 
room?"  He leaned against the railing next to Jim.  "Red bikini, two 
o'clock," he observed, grinning.  His partner snorted snorted 
indelicately, raising an eyebrow in his direction.  "Hey, just 
because *you're* not interested, doesn't mean I can't be," he 
protested.  "Do you think she's staying here?" 
 
"No idea, Chief," said Jim, giving in to a reckless impulse to get a 
little back of his own. "Tiger print speedo, ten-thirty." 
 
Blair laughed.  "You don't *really* think that's attractive, do you?" 
 
"The pattern, no.  The body it's showing off...you be the judge.  You 
could bounce pennies off those abs." 
 
"Guess I can give you that one," he admitted, sounding impressed in 
spite of himself.  "Black string bikini, dead ahead." 
 
The sentinel sniffed in mock disdain.  "They're fake." 
 
"They are not." 
 
Jim just looked at him.  "Trust me on this one."   
 
Blair sighed ruefully.  "Never try and get one past a sentinel."  The 
rueful look didn't quite vanquish his admiration, though, as he 
watched her cross his line of sight and vanish into a small wooden 
building.  Once she was out of sight, he turned back to his partner.  
"What do you want to do for dinner?" 
 
Jim took a brief moment to savor his win before answering.  "I 
thought we'd just sort of walk the beach, go with whatever we come 
across." 
 
"Go with whatever we come across?  You're just not a go-with-it kind 
of guy, Jim.  What's up?"  Blair turned to lean on the railing with 
one elbow and look at his partner. 
 
Jim shrugged.  "I'm on vacation.  It's allowed."  Backing away, he 
opened the screen door that led back into their room.  "I'm going to 
get changed.  Enjoy the view, would you?" 
 
"Jim, is something wrong?" 
 
"No, it's nothing.  Just a little jet-lag." 
 
He could literally *see* Blair's mind switch gears though the 
expressions on his partner's face as he went into got-to-study-my-
Sentinel mode.   
 
"I wonder if jet-lag has any effect on your senses.  Or altitude, for 
that matter.  Maybe we could run a few tests..." 
 
"No," said Jim unequivocally.  "I said I was on vacation and I meant 
it."  He left the screen door open as he made his way to his bed and 
opened his bag, rummaging around but not really looking for anything. 
 
"You know if you want to talk..."  Blair's voice came from closer 
than Jim had been expecting.  If he'd really been paying attention, 
he wouldn't have missed a single move the other man made, but he'd 
let Blair drift out of his awareness for the moment.  Too much, too 
often, put him on edge, knowing that there was someone so perfect for 
him that he'd never have. 
 
He forced a smile onto his face as he turned around.  "I'm fine, 
Chief.  Just thinking about those waves again.  You know how it 
is..." 
 
"Sure," Blair responded, suspicious but accepting the explanation 
nonetheless.  "Let's go get something to eat." 
 
********** 
 
Jim found himself on the balcony again long after night had fallen, 
long after he'd put himself to bed with the intention of getting up 
before sunrise.  Blair still wasn't back, and he didn't want to look 
at the clock and see just how late it was.  He and Blair understood 
one another, and had very close and comfortable boundaries to their 
relationship, but there *were* boundaries, and sometimes that 
emptiness--loneliness--just hit hard. 
	 
He tried not to let the melancholy get to him, using the cooler night 
air to clear his head and soothe his senses.  The breeze was stronger 
now, ruffling his growing, but still short, hair.  He could hear 
goings-on up and down the beach--music and voices and footsteps and 
splashes.  A part of him wanted to get back out there and be with 
people, but another part just wanted to stand back and observe it 
all. 
	 
//Enough.  Enough pathetic self-pity.  Go out and live your life 
already, you can't wait for Sandburg to live it with you.  Or for 
you.//  Jim gripped the railing with both hands, then shoved himself 
back and turned towards the doors.  Rummaging through his bag he put 
on a pair of jeans and a loose shirt, slipping his wallet into his 
pocket and locking up the room on his way out. 
	 
The path out the back of the hotel was deserted; the pale artificial 
light from the lamps hanging overhead did more to create shadow than 
to light his way.  Not that Jim needed it; to him the path was clear 
as day.  Maybe clearer.  He felt the scattered grains of sand 
shifting beneath his shoes and wished he'd thought to go barefoot.  
Wished he'd had the nerve. 
 
The voices came from his right, or at least most of them did, which 
made his choice clear.  Coming to the end of the path, he took a left 
and made his way through the littered sand to the edge of the water.  
He wasn't alone, or at least not as alone as he would have like to 
be, but the scattered people around him were outside as much for the 
solitude of dark as he was.  It made their presence less intrusive. 
 
He walked along the water, finally kicking off his shoes and holding 
them in his hand.  He hadn't done this in years.  Hadn't done a lot 
of things in years, really.  Being open with Sandburg had done 
wonders for his mental health, but couldn't change the realities of 
the life and career he'd chosen. 
 
"My purse!  He stole my purse!"  The shriek carried across the sand 
to Jim's ears easily and without thinking about he took off towards 
the call of distress.  It was easy for anyone to see the thief 
tearing across the sand; it was even easier for the sentinel.  While 
most of the bystanders did just that--stood by--only two men were on 
hand to take down the thief and pry the stolen purse from his hand. 
 
Jim grabbed one arm as the other man tackled him from behind, 
slamming his body into the sand efficiently.  Once the situation 
seemed firmly in hand, Jim backed off a little, but not so much that 
he couldn't have made another lightning fast move to stop him from 
getting away. 
 
"Waikiki police," said the other man in a voice that sounded 
strangely familiar, whipping a pair of handcuffs out and slapping 
them on the purse snatcher.  "You're under arrest.  On your feet, 
buddy, on your feet."  His focus solely on the perpetrator, Jim 
helped the other man haul the criminal up off the sand, then dusted 
himself off. 
 
A few moments later a couple of uniformed officers showed up and took 
over, one of them taking a statement from Jim then sending him on his 
way.  He took a last look at the arrest, then retrieved his shoes 
from where they had been lost in the chase and started down the beach 
again. 
 
"Hey," called out that voice behind him.  "Hey, wait up."  Jim paused 
until the other man caught up and lay a hand on his shoulder.  "I 
just wanted to thank you for the back-up, man--"  Jim turned to face 
him and both men froze. 
 
"My God," whispered Jim finally, his hand snaking up between them, 
then touching his own face in lieu of the other man's.  It made no 
difference, really; the two were virtually identical. 
 
The man shook his head as if to rid himself of the double vision.   
 
"Mack," he introduced himself finally.  "Lieutenant Mack Wolfe.  
You?" 
 
"Ellison.  Detective Jim Ellison," he responded crisply, offering his 
hand even as he continued to size the other man up.  He could still 
swear, even with his five heightened senses active, that he was 
looking at himself. 
 
"A cop," said Mack, sounding impressed.  "Not from around here, 
obviously.  What brings you to the islands?" 
 
Jim shook his head.  "Forgive me for being blunt, but I feel like I'm 
looking at my reflection here.  This is amazing." 
 
"Do you?" said Mack, "I was hoping it was just that last shot of 
tequila I had before hitting the beach.  So I've really just run into 
my twin, have I?"  He gave Jim a shrug and then a smirk.  "Let me buy 
you a drink," he said, slipping an arm around Jim's shoulders and 
steering him back inland. 
 
"Sure," said Jim easily, sparing a glance for the long stretch of 
beach he'd planned on covering before heading back to his hotel room.  
Mack's offer was definitely more appealing, and his curiosity was 
already getting the better of him.  The two of them really *could* be 
twins, that was the astounding part. 
 
"Something tells me we're gonna have a *lot* to talk about," said 
Mack as they crossed the threshold between sand and grass.  "Where 
are you from, Jimmy?" 
 
"Cascade, Washington," he offered freely.  "I'm here with my partner 
for a wedding."  He looked at Mack again and shook his head in 
disbelief.  "Separated at birth," he muttered to himself as they 
ascended a grassy hill and made their way to a small open-air bar on 
the other side. 
 
"Yeah, something like that," agreed Mack.  "Beer?  Or are you feeling 
adventurous tonight?"  He sat down on a bar stool and raised an 
eyebrow in Jim's direction. 
 
"Beer," said Jim, trusting an old standby to get him through this 
night.  Mack nodded his approval and signaled for two. 
 
"A good, northwestern drink," he commented, draining half of his in 
one gulp.  "I tend to go for, you know, fruitier stuff, myself. But 
this is good." 
 
"It does the job," commented Jim, finding the beer was going down 
much quicker than he would have thought.  He wondering absently 
whether Blair had gotten back to the room yet, then decided that it 
didn't really matter.  Either he was or he wasn't; neither answer had 
any bearing on the way *Jim's* night was going. 
 
"Ladies, ladies," Jim heard Mack saying and realized he hadn't been 
paying much attention.  Normally at least subconsciously aware of his 
surroundings; that jarred him more than a little.  "Ladies," he said 
a third time.  "A drink with me and my...brother..." 
 
Jim looked up to see their replies to the negative.  "Oh well, you 
win some, you lose some," Mack went on.  "What do you say, Jimmy?  
You and me, out on the town...?" 
 
"I...don't think so," said Jim, using his beer as an excuse not to 
explain why.  His gaze still slid to his doppelganger between every 
sip, looking for some difference, any difference, something to 
convince him that this wasn't some wicked dream.   
 
"You look like you're in bad shape, buddy," said Mack, his hand 
coming up on Jim's shoulder again.  "Me the morning after a bender.  
Would a drive along the coast clear your head a little?" 
 
"Maybe," said Jim non-committally, draining his beer.  Like it or 
not--comfortable with it or not--he was along for the ride.  Here he 
was, having a beer with his clone, and he wasn't about to walk away 
now.  "Sure, why not." 
 
The car was a convertible, the top, of course, down, and Jim raised 
an inquiring eyebrow at the sight.  Mack grinned and didn't offer any 
sort of explanation, though Jim did catch a cursory, nervous glance 
from side to side before he got in.   
 
"You even been to Hawaii before, Jimmy?" 
 
"A long time ago," he said.  "Before I joined the military." 
 
"Ah, hey, you too, huh," said Mack with a chuckle.  "I wonder what 
else we have in common.  You got a wife and kids?" 
 
"Divorced, no kids, not likely to have any," he said succinctly. 
 
"Not likely?  Not your thing?"  Jim shrugged.  "Okay, okay, I get it.  
Not into talking about the personal stuff, are you?  Just enjoy the 
ride, man."  He pulled out onto the highway and sped up...and all Jim 
could think about was the way Blair's hair would have been whipping 
behind him in that wind. 
 
"Is your, uh, partner going to be worried about you?" he asked and 
the terrain became rougher.  Jim had almost been zoning, enjoying the 
sensation of freedom as they drove along the highway.  Nowhere on 
this island was really secluded anymore, but he could imagine it was. 
 
"Blair's off somewhere," he said expressionlessly, opening his eyes. 
 
"Hey, buddy, are you okay?" 
 
"Yes," started Jim, then reconsidered.  "No, not really, but it 
doesn't matter.  It's beautiful out there." 
 
Mack followed his gaze out across the water.  "I'm surprised you can 
see much, this time of night.  The water's pretty dark." 
 
"It's beautiful if you know what to look for," he said casually, 
covering for his senses second nature to him now.  Only when he was 
truly engrossed in them did he forget.  "Like that row of coral just 
off the shore, there." 
 
"I guess I don't look much anymore," he admitted, his eyes back on 
the road.  "You know how it is, being local and all.  How long are 
you in town for?" 
 
"A few days.  Just for the wedding."  Thankful the conversation had 
again drifted away from his unsettled state of mind, Jim sat back in 
the seat and closed his eyes, letting his sense of touch take over.  
The wind was soft, not hard, and even the tiny particles that it 
carried caressed him rather than abraded him. 
 
"You always like this?" 
 
"Like what?" 
 
"All quiet and, uh, introspective.  Or whatever." 
 
"Some might call it stoic." 
 
"Only those that know what stoic means.  Okay, so I know I'm prying 
here, but I don't think you'd be in this car if you didn't need 
someone to talk to.  And hey, what's a twin *for*?  Obviously I've 
got nothing better to do with my night." 
 
"No hot date I'm keeping you from?" 
 
"If I did, buddy, you wouldn't be keeping me from it.  Twin or no."  
He flashed a grin as he slowed down the car and pulled over to the 
side of the road near a small bluff.  "Hop out and I'll show you the 
sights."  The irony of his statement was made painfully clear as he 
tripped blindly over a patch of uneven dirt and went sprawling to the 
ground. 
 
"Hey, you okay?" asked Jim, kneeling at his side almost immediately. 
 
"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," Mack assured him with an embarrassed groan.  
"Nothing bruised but my ego.  There's a path over here...you see so 
well in the dark, you find it for me."  He accepted Jim's hand to 
help him up from the ground, then placed his own hand between Jim's 
shoulder blades to follow him until they found the path. "You even 
feel like me," he murmured, not knowing that Jim could hear him. 
 
They reached the bottom of the bluff and hit a small, sandy cove that 
couldn't be seen from the road.  Mack led him to an old fallen tree, 
victim of the soil erosion above, and they sat.  It was hard to keep 
from looking at one another--even staring--as the similarities 
between them were still too many to be believed.  "I'm sorry," said 
Jim, turning away abruptly and shaking his head.  "I'm not usually so 
much of a jerk. It's been a hard day." 
 
"That why you were walking alone on the beach?" 
 
"Lots of people walk alone on the beach." 
 
"Well...you don't look like the kind of guy who does it often." 
 
"'Look' like?" said Jim with a smirk. "Interesting choice of words, 
don't you think?" 
 
Mack seemed a bit stunned for a moment.  "You're right," he said 
finally.  "*I'm* not the kind of guy who does it often." 
 
"Well, you're right, I'm not," he replied finally.  "I couldn't 
sleep.  My partner wasn't back." 
 
"What, you can't sleep unless your partner is there?" 
 
Jim frowned.  "No...it's more complicated than that." 
 
Mack chuckled.  "What, you in love with him or something, man?" 
 
Jim was silent. 
 
Mack's face fell and his eyes widened.  "Oh, Jesus, I was just making 
a joke!" 
 
"Hey, wait, I didn't say..." 
 
"Jimmy...you didn't have to."  He got up and paced back and forth a 
little bit, not quite knowing what to say.  "I take it that he's 
not...shit. That's gotta be hard."  Jim didn't answer, just looked at 
him levelly. "There's this...woman...here..." 
 
"Huh," said Jim neutrally.  "I guess you can relate." 
 
"Guess I can."  He sat back down a little nervously, hitching one 
knee up and placing his hands on it.  "I try not to think about it 
much, you know?  I'm not her type and I know it.  But hey, there are 
plenty of other fish in the sea, my friend." 
 
"Not my sea." 
 
"Well yeah, sure, not if you scare them away," he scoffed, looking at 
Jim 
askance.  "You think you got a real chance with this, uh, guy?" 
 
"No," said Jim simply, looking down at his hands.  "He knows how I 
feel, 
and I know that we're never going to be anything but best friends.  
Let's 
not talk about this, all right?" 
 
"Look, Jim," said Mack seriously. "I'm not the kind of guy that goes 
around 
and bares his soul.  Maybe tonight's just the night for it or 
something.  I 
met you, didn't I?  I mean, what are the odds of *that*?" 
 
"One in a million.  A billion," he said. 
 
"Genetically...impossible..." 
 
Jim smiled a little.  "I hesitate to say *anything* is genetically 
impossible," he muttered. 
 
"Huh?  How come?" 
 
Jim shook his head.  "Long story." 
 
Mack shrugged.  "Holli, she's a doc.  She'd probably be giving us 
some big lecture on this right now." 
 
"Like Blair.  He's an anthropologist...and you have no *idea* the 
stuff he'd be thinking about this..."  Jim chuckled to himself a 
little, thinking of all the tests his partner would dream up on the 
spot. 
 
"Anthropologist?  I thought he was your partner." 
 
"He is.  It's...it's another long story." 
 
"Ah," he said knowingly, though he didn't understand it one bit.  
"Didn't anyone tell you you shouldn't date a co-worker?  Messy," he 
muttered.  "Messy." 
 
"I'm not dating him," said Jim with a sigh, his already-quiet mood 
becoming even more introspective. 
 
"Hey, chin up," said Mack, drawing closer and throwing a 
companionable arm over his shoulder.  "I won't have anyone upset on 
my watch."  Before Jim could even make a motion to stop him--a rare 
thing indeed--Mack swung over and latched his lips onto Jim's. 
 
After a wide-eyed moment of startlement, Jim pulled away.   
 
"Mack, what--?" 
 
"Beggars can't be choosers," he said, his lips a mere moment's motion 
away.  "Call it narcissism, but I think I can give you what you need 
tonight...and I think you can do the same."  His intense blue eyes, 
the mirror of Jim's own, bore holes in him.  "Can you honestly say 
you aren't curious?  That you don't want to try?" 
 
Jim shook his head and tried to answer.  "I don't..." he began, then 
closed his eyes.  "I don't do these things out of curiosity," he said 
stiffly. 
 
"All right," said Mack quietly, pulling his arm away.  "I won't do 
anything you don't want, buddy." 
 
Jim took a couple deep breath. "Wait," he said finally, lifting his 
head and letting his eyes fall upon Mack again.  What he saw this 
time wasn't any different than any of the other times he's looked.  
He saw his own face, his own body.  Maybe the hair was a shade 
different, and maybe there was a bit of a different curl to the lips, 
but it was still him. 
 
Maybe, just maybe, Mack was right.  Maybe being with him tonight 
would help.  It wouldn't fill the space in his soul that he'd somehow 
still been reserving for Blair, but it would be something more than 
what he had now.  And, truthfully, who hasn't looked in the mirror at 
least once and seen themself and wished, just for a moment, that it 
wasn't just a mirror, and that they weren't really alone. 
 
"Wait," he repeated, then leaned over and returned the kiss. 
 
"Change of heart?" murmured Mack in the single moment his lips were 
free. 
 
"Something like that."  Jim didn't let him go, his clutch almost 
desperate.  "It doesn't matter."  Mack didn't argue with him, caught 
up in the moment as much as Jim was.  The subtle, reciprocal energy 
between them was coming to a head here and now, and whatever happened 
afterward didn't matter anymore.  "Is this place as private as you 
say it is?" 
 
"Unless we have an unexpected chopper," he quipped,  clawing at Jim's 
shirt as though he'd forgotten how it unfastened.  "And even 
then...who's going to be looking for two guys fucking on the beach, 
huh?" 
 
Jim's lips were claimed again and again and he gave up trying to 
speak.  What was there to be said?  That's all they were going to do-
-have a good fuck on the beach.  There was no need for seduction, nor 
rhyme nor reason to it. 
 
Mack did his damnedest to remove his clothing without breaking off 
that incredible kiss, but it proved impossible.  He moved away for 
the briefest of moments, but long enough for Jim to dive in and latch 
onto one of his soft, warm nipples.  The texture was odd under his 
tongue--warmer than the rest of his skin and almost swollen.  He 
realized with regret that he'd never really taken the time to explore 
his lovers with all senses--a situation he intended to rectify. 
 
"God," gasped Mack.  "I didn't expect that to feel so damn good."  
Naked, his body fully exposed to the ocean breeze, he let Jim have 
his way with it. 
 
The detective couldn't respond--not just because his lips and tongue 
were busy but because there was still nothing to say.  He wanted to 
make this a night to remember, for both of them; he didn't expect it 
would ever be anything more.  Mack's body was hot to the touch, 
despite the fact that the damp air around them had chilled under the 
night sky. 
 
"You're way too dressed," Mack gasped out as Jim switched from one 
nipple to the other and back again.  "This is Hawaii...get 
natural..."  Anything else he might have said was drowned in the moan 
that erupted from his lips as Jim blew lightly over his saliva-slick 
flesh. 
 
He wasn't quick to take Mack's advice, undoing the top two buttons of 
his shirt but paying far more attention to Mack's body than his own.  
Taking one of the lieutenant's hands, he sucked each finger into his 
mouth in turn, laving them and teasing each with his tongue.  Mack's 
eyes grew wide, then closed altogether after he caught the dilated 
blue of Jim's own. 
 
Mack reached out with his other hand, caressing the patch of chest he 
had been gifted access to and blindly fumbling with the rest of the 
buttons.  Jim finally took pity and helped him, undoing the buttons 
but leaving the shirt frustratingly tucked into his jeans. 
 
"The good thing," babbled Mack between gasps and moans, "about being 
with a guy, is that he knows *exactly* what to...OH!"  His fingers 
tightened on Jim's nipple as the other man swirled patterns into his 
palm with his tongue.  "...*exactly* what to do," he repeated, 
relaxing a little as Jim pulled away from him for a moment, long 
enough to pull his shirt off and drop it to the nearby sand. 
 
"Come here," he said, his first words since they'd begun.  Mack was 
in no state of mind or body to disobey, standing and drawing closer 
to the other man.  Jim stood on the sand, taking both of Mack's hands 
into his and pulling their bodies so tightly together they had no 
choice but to let their lips meet once again. 
 
"Incredible," whispered Mack, his fingers clutching Jim's tightly, 
then freeing themselves and wrapping around the mainland detective's 
back.  His grip was strong, no hesitation in him and he began to 
stroke up and down Jim's spine, then dipping down the back of his 
jeans as far as he could go. 
 
"You've done this before," murmured Jim against his cheek.  It wasn't 
a question, merely an observation made while the last of his neurons 
still fired.  It wouldn't be long before all questions, all language, 
became irrelevant to them both.  He felt the constriction of his 
clothing, but didn't remove the tightening jeans. 
 
He traced the line of Mack's back and sides with demanding 
fingertips, reaching the curve of his ass and pausing there for an 
agonizing moment.  Mack's throaty moan wasn't enough to prompt him 
further, though it was enough to draw the first, small, noises from 
Jim's lips. 
 
"You want it," encouraged Mack.  "Go for it.  It's there for you." 
 
In a single smooth motion, Jim dropped to his knees in front of the 
other man and planted a fluttery kiss on the end of his cock. 
 
"Tease!" he gasped out, his hand's dropping down to tangle in Jim's 
windblown hair.  Jim's lips returned again and lingered this time, 
his tongue darting out to tease the slit before taking the whole head 
into his mouth.  Mack's sounds were incoherent as he threw his head 
back, his fingers painfully tight against Jim's scalp. 
 
Jim's tongue swirled against impossibly sensitive nerve endings 
before he moved his head forward and took more and more into his 
mouth.  Mack's cock was rigid and hot to the touch, even more so as 
it seared the lining of Jim's mouth.  He moved his lips up and down 
its length slowly, sensually, ignoring the cries for more as he took 
it at his own pace. 
 
"God, Jimmy, you're driving me crazy here!" 
 
He knew it, and did his damnedest to bring Mack to the brink again 
and again, pausing each and every time he was ready to go over.  The 
other man clutched at him convulsively, first his hair, then his 
face, then his shoulders. 
 
"Jimmy!  I'm gonna...I'm gonna..."  Jim took a deep breath, then slid 
the cock all the way down his throat until his nose was nested in 
Mack's hair.  As the other cop cried out, echoing off the cliff 
behind them, Jim cupped his balls in one hand.  He felt them tighten 
as Mack came hard into his throat. 
 
It was a long moment before he slid his lips off, his tongue flicking 
across the head again and drawing a sharp gasp from his companion.  
He lightly kissed the crease joining Mack's leg to his torso, letting 
his tongue run down it and taking each of his balls into his mouth in 
turn, gently tonguing them then releasing them again. 
 
"Jimmy...God, Jimmy..." 
 
Jim stood up limberly and claimed Mack's lips, mildly surprised again 
that they were at his exact height.  Closing his eyes, he didn't see 
his own face in front of him and, for a brief moment, could imagine 
another.   It wasn't enough, but at least it was something. 
 
Mack's breaths were still coming in gasps as he planted kisses on 
Jim's throat, his hands roaming the hard body in front of him and 
tugged at the waistband of those cursed jeans.  His hands met at the 
button and he tried to open it, but Jim pulled his hands away.  Mack 
looked at him curiously, but the detective just shook his head. 
 
"Have it your way," said Mack with a lascivious grin, not letting 
himself be deterred by the fabric separating him from Jim's groin.  
His hand cupped the bulge he found there, stroking it surely with his 
thumb. 
 
"Feels good," mumbled Jim, continuing to kiss Mack's face.  More 
often than not, his eyes remained closed. 
 
"Your turn, buddy," was his reply as he squeezed gently, then resumed 
his stroking.  "There'll be no debts left unpaid here."   
 
With subtle nudges, he maneuvered both of them onto the thin grass at 
the base of the cliff and away from the abrasive sand.  While one 
hand continued to caress the bulge in Jim's jeans, the other pushed 
gently on his shoulder until the were both down on the ground. 
 
"Much better," he murmured as he continued his ministrations.  
Without further ado he leaned down over him began to mouth the denim 
crotch of his jeans.  He bit down on the button and tugged teasingly 
on it but didn't undo it.  What Jim wanted, Jim was going to get, in 
spades. 
 
He licked along Jim's length through the already damp fabric again 
and again, knowing how the tight clothing must feel by now even 
without the additional stimulation.  He watched for signs that he was 
getting somewhere, but for the longest time Jim was deathly quiet.  
Then, all at once, he took a huge gasp of air and let out a short 
cry, clutching at the grass. 
 
Mack grinned and started sucking in earnest, his saliva soaking 
through the jeans, right through to Jim's flesh.  He reached up 
blindly and let his fingers dance over Jim's nipples before pinching 
them and twisting lightly. 
 
"God..."  He was getting close, he could feel the tightening going 
through his body and centering just behind his cock.  The sensation 
of the wet denim stroking across him was both unusual and erotic.  
His nipples stood out from his chest, reddened from Mack's 
attentions. 
 
The lieutenant was unrelenting, twisting, licking and stroking until 
Jim let out as long, low groan and a stain began to spread over the 
remaining dry spots on the front of his jeans.  Their fingers twined 
as they both caught their breath, and he rested his head on Jim's 
stomach for a long while. 
 
"I have to get back to the hotel," whispered Jim as their sweat-slick 
bodies began to cool in the ocean breeze.  "Blair will be worried." 
 
Mack didn't argue, for once didn't say a word.  Slowly he got up then 
helped Jim to his feet, brushing the stray grains of sand off his own 
body as well as his companion's.  Dressing was a quiet affair, and 
neither bothered to try and conceal their disheveled look. 
 
Jim let his shirt hang loosely over his jeans, only bothering to 
button it halfway up his chest.  He looked himself over, then gazed 
up and down Mack's body as though still trying to pick out the 
differences.  Had he really wanted to he could have, could have found 
different lines in the skin, could have found a hairline just 
slightly to one side or the other, but when it came down to it he 
found he really didn't want to. 
 
"Come on," said Mack with a smile, reaching out a hand to him.  
"Let's get you back to your partner." 
 
Jim smiled in return and followed him back up the steep path to where 
the vehicle waited for them, standing sentinel over their secret 
tryst.  Before they got inside, Mack pulled him close for one last 
kiss. 
 
"Take care of yourself," he said, holding Jim at arms length and 
grinning at him.  "And remember me, would you?" 
 
Jim knew he would. 
 
--THE END--