Disclaimer: All pre-existing characters are the property of the creators and producers of "The Sentinel." No copyright infringement is intended.

All new characters and situations are the sole property and responsibility of the author.

Choate entered the office and, in his mind, the surroundings transported him back over ten years.

The man loomed large, larger even than Choate's six feet plus. Brown sat behind an enormous mahogany desk. Its highly polished surface snagged Choate's attention. And for a moment made him twenty-five again, laying face down on the cool, flat surface, his butt high in the air, and Brown. . .

Choate blinked, snapping from his memories, to blink owlishly at Brown. The older man returned the look with a smugness that told Choate he knew exactly what he'd been thinking. The agent blushed, something he hadn't done in a long time. Brown smiled and Choate's blush deepened.

"How's the leg?" the older man finally asked gruffly, breaking the spell.

Choate took a deep breath, savagely willing the color from his face. Damn the man! It'd been two years! Would he always have this kind of effect on him?! "Still attached." The agent mumbled, grateful his voice didn't betray him.

"Only through a miracle of modern science," Brown said harshly. Then stopped and began again in a calmer tone, "It bother you much?"

"Only when I use it," Choate answered wryly.

Brown snorted, but motioned him to the large arm chair opposite his desk.

"Is that why you called me?" Choate asked as he flopped gracelessly into the chair, stretching his injured leg out in front of him. "To ask about my health?" He winced at a cramp and repositioned the leg more comfortably. "I know Mother's been giving you a daily account of my progress since my accident."

Brown didn't miss the little display of pain from his operative. He frowned disapprovingly. The doctors hadn't said anything about discomfort. Which probably meant Choate had said nothing about it. "A report on your health isn't all I've gotten from Mother." Reaching into his desk, he brought out two folders, one blue, one red. He snapped opened the red one. After scanning a few lines, Brown looked back at his agent. "I have a field report of your last mission. You used to be more. . .circumspect."

"I used to be a lot of things," Choate said, not bothering to keep the bitterness from his voice.

Brown frowned again, the café au lait of his skin darkening with anger. Then, just as quickly as the heated flush came, it dissipated. "Team Leader thinks you took a lot of unnecessary chances."

Choate rubbed absently at his leg, just above the knee. "You know what I think of Team Leader." Then, following Brown's intense gaze, he went still, folding his hands tightly in his lap. "The mission was successful. I got my team home."

"And lost your knee."

"I knew the risks--" Choate began and barely kept from jumping out of his skin when Brown slammed his fist down on the surface on the desk.

"Bullshit," he bellowed. "You've handled the last six missions with the same cavalier attitude. I didn't accuse you of being reckless with your team, you're being reckless with yourself." Brown paused, trying to calm himself enough to ask, "Why?"

Choate's jaw tensed as he glanced away.

Brown recognized that sign. The stubborn 'I won't answer your questions because I'm angry' look, complete with a faint pout. The face of that furious, twenty-five year old came floating back from his memory, the one that had stolen his heart all those years ago. Brown didn't know whether he wanted to hug Choate close or wring his neck. Both scenarios seemed equally appealing at the moment. The quiet stretched over several minutes. "Fine." He closed the red folder and opened the blue. "I'm pulling you from the active rosters."

Choate's head snapped back to stare at his boss. "What? Why? Because I won't talk to you?" he asked sarcastically.

Brown just looked at him, wringing his neck suddenly became the favored choice.

"You're not being fair to the team, Winn."

"I'm not breaking up your team, Viper, just reassigning them. You'll still be reassembled and called on from time to time."

"You can't do that!"

Never breaking the visual, Brown said calmly, "It's done."

"If you're mad at me, be mad at me, dammit!"

"You'll know when I'm mad--"

"What's going on between us shouldn't affect your decisions about my team!"

Brown's eyes flashed with fire. "The limit for covert ops team's ten years. You know that! Your team's well past that now. You all are bucking the odds."

"You're saying we've lost our edge," Choate countered defensively.

Brown answered that bit of foolishness with a derisive snort. Rapidly losing patience with the discussion, he asked, "How long did the therapist say it would be?"

Choate sat back in the chair, crossing his arms tightly over his chest. "What's that got to do with--"

"How long?" he snapped.

Choate's glance skidded away from Brown's as he reluctantly answered with, "Eight to ten weeks," then hurriedly added, "but I can do it in six."

"How're you supposed to go on a mission when you can't even walk?"

"I walk fine," Choate responded indignantly.

"You limp like an old man."

The look turned nasty as he sneered, "Do you limp?"

Brown blinked his astonishment at the harshness of that statement. "That's your last free push, little boy," he said, his voice, emerged dangerous and low.

Choate knew he'd stepped over the line before the words cleared his mouth, but with all they'd put each other through in the last few weeks, he couldn't/wouldn't bring himself to apologize. "I'll work the limp out before the next assignment."

Now Brown smiled. "Actually, I have your assignment here," he said as he tapped the blue folder on his desk.

Choate recognized that smile. It caused the muscles of his derriere to tighten. "What assignment?" he asked warily.

"You're to act as liaison, bodyguard, attaché and aide to a new Councilor in Washington. That's the state, not the capital." Brown added smugly.

Sure he'd heard wrong, Choate repeated, "Attaché? I'm an operative, Winn, not an attaché!"

"You're what I say you are."

"No," he said, stubbornly.

"This isn't a debate, little boy." The voice was hard.

Choate's jaw tensed again. "Winn, I--"

The older man cut him off, "You start in a week. Is that enough time to get your things in order here?"

"You're doing this to punish me, aren't you?" Choate asked angrily.

"I'm doing this because I'm the boss and it's where I want you to go." Brown presented the blue folder to Choate, his eyes reflecting the challenge.

Choate stood slowly, his limp more pronounced now as he approached the desk. Brown made a mental note to talk to his doctors again just as the operative took the blue folder from his hand with a little more force than necessary. Choate limped out without another word, each forceful step making Brown wince in sympathy, slamming the door behind him.

"And to save your life, little boy," Brown said quietly, a touch of sadness in his voice.

~~~~~~

He'd been on assignment for a little over a month now. As promised, he had conquered the limp. After scanning the list of activity restrictions: no skiing, no mountain climbing, no sports activities of any kind, no strenuous exercises, Choate fired the therapist.

Councilor Evers turned out to be a decent enough man, although a tad too preoccupied and overly-driven. Brown hadn't lied about the enemies, some from his old days as an attorney, some were from his short time as a Councilor.

So far, the rigors of the job had kept Choate busy, but the lack of his usual level of activity had him bored.

Choate leaned against the railing of the tiny gazebo staring out into the contrived lushness of the surrounding greenery, remembering the steamy site of his last mission. He missed its raw majesty. Yet, in the dark, quiet time of night, this assignment brought some measure of peace. Something he hadn't had much of in his life.

Suddenly, he heard angry voices deeper in the flora. The agent moved cautiously towards the sound.

Choate heard an angry voice hiss, "You bitch!" as he stepped into a small cluster of concealing hedges.

Another voice, rippling with merriment, filtered out to him from the darkness. "If you say, so, man. Everybody has to be something."

The first voice sounded again, now tight and choked with anger, "You were playing with me all along, weren't you?"

"We were playing with each other," the second voice corrected calmly, never losing the amusement it.

Now frustration bled through the anger, "I thought we had something!"

"We did," came the sedate reply.

The first voice hissed urgently, "I love you!"

A tinkling of laughter, then a snort, "Oh, please! We had a good time and we're done! I told you at first, Terry!"

At that accusation, Terry retorted, "Gideon warned me about you!"

"I told him to. But you didn't believe him, did you? You came anyway." The laughter sounded again. "Excuse my pun."

Choate parted the hedge and peered cautiously inside the little clearing. Immediately, the visual confused him. He'd thought he'd heard two distinct male voices. Two figures stood in the open space, both young, one tall, with short blond hair, athletic-looking, definitely male; but the other; small, dark, and a fall of hair that reached down its back.

They were circling each other warily. Choate watched until their circling brought the features of the second, smaller figure into his line of sight. They were both males! The second much too pretty to be a guy.

"Damn you, Justin!" The one Choate now identified as 'Terry' hissed and took a step forward menacingly.

Justin stepped back, but not far enough. Terry caught him by the shirt and drew back his fist.

Just as the fist bore down on its hapless victim, it stopped in midair. Terry turned and looked up into the scowling face of a giant. A grim-faced giant in a crisp white shirt, open at the collar, tucked neatly into a pair of dark-blue suit pants. He held Terry's fist gripped tightly in his mammoth paw. Terry pulled. The grasp tightened and the fist remained a prisoner.

"Let go, man!"

Choate nodded towards the smaller man in Terry's clutches. "You first."

The blond pulled hard again. "This doesn't concern you!"

Choate looked at Justin, his first really good look. He stood only about five and a half feet, give or take an inch, and couldn't weigh more than one hundred twenty-five pounds on a good day. Tiny, delicate-looking, hell, just say it, beautiful! Even in the waning light, he could see the beauty. The little elf wore his hair long, way longer than Choate'd seen in a while. The longest tip reached to the bottom of a high, perfectly-rounded ass.

The young man watched Choate with undisguised interest. The almond-shaped eyes seemed flat black in the pale light. From the description in the dossier Brown gave him, this had to be the Councilor's son. If so, the picture hadn't done him justice.

The blend of old-world European and the Orient gave him the classic tilt to his eyes and golden-hued skin, which Choate found undeniably attractive. But that thick fall of jet-black hair framing the 'pixie' face was, in the agent's opinion, the young man's best feature.

The fact sheet had described Justin as an 'indiscriminate player', Brown's terminology for bisexual. A true statement, from the content of the conversation he'd just overheard. Choate had walked into a lover's quarrel. Since his job description included being bodyguard to the family, and Justin was part of the Councilor's family, he considered this part of his duties.

"Sorry, sport, but it does. You wanna keep this," Choate twisted sharply on the fist in his grip, "you better release the kid."

"Say," Justin spoke for the first time. "Who're you calling a kid?"

Choate ignored the outburst as he squeezed tighter. "Last chance, slick. I'd take it, if I were you."

Terry fought him for all of five seconds more, before slowly, and reluctantly, releasing Justin's shirt.

Choate used Terry's fist to tug him away from his prey. "Now get." He growled, giving the young man a shove in the direction of the opening in the bushes. "And don't let me catch you on this property again or you're lawn food."

Terry cast the pair a hostile glare before heading for the hills.

"And what cave did you just crawl from?"

Choate slowly turned back to face an angry Justin and was once again struck by the imp's exotic beauty. Unbelievably, it seemed enhanced by the flush anger brought to his cheeks. Choate smiled.

"I don't see what's so funny!"

At that moment, Justin reminded Choate of a young bantam cock. Full of spit and vinegar and ready to fight the first things that moved in its line of sight. The smile broadened at the image.

That only made Justin angrier. "Do you know who I am?" he demanded arrogantly.

Choate's smile didn't waver. "You're a brat," he rumbled before turning and slowly walking away. The older man didn't slow his step as he said over his shoulder, "Who happens to be the Councilor's son."

Justin barely restrained himself from jumping up and down in frustration. "And just who do you think you are?"

Choate laughed out loud this time before saying, "I'm the guy who just saved your pretty little," the agent glanced back long enough to let his eyes deliberately wander over young Evers' body, "er, face."

Justin watched, bewildered as the mouth-watering object of his desires vanished into the surrounding shrubbery. He'd been tall, over six feet, broad, but not bulky. His arms, well muscled, his chest. . .that waist! Justin's practiced eye could tell the man worked out. . .religiously. His face had been strong,not the usual type that drew Justin, but compelling nonetheless. The rough-hewn planes of his features excited and intrigued the young Evers. And that assessing look he'd been given already had him half-hard.

The mystery man wore his sandy-blond hair cut short, but, thankfully, not buzzed. His most alluring feature was his eyes, chocolate-brown, surrounded by lashes too long to be real. And his mouth, wide, full, expressive! His hands, large, broad, long tapered fingers. Justin sighed, dramatically, as he started after the retreating figure at a fast trot. He had to meet him. Meet him? Forget that! He had to have him!

Young Evers skidded to a stop. Had the hunk just called him pretty? Did he mean it? Slowly, his face lit with an anticipatory smile.

~~~~~~

The following evening, Choate sat in the well-worn, overstuffed lounger and stared into the fire blazing in the hearth. The file he'd been studying lay forgotten on the floor at his feet. No need to see the pages, he'd studied the lines typed there enough times to know the words by heart.

Justin Evers, now 24, the product of a combination of old money and the nouveau riche. A 'Yang' father and a 'Yin' mother, Justin had had anything and everything he could ever want (or think he wanted) all his life. The Marine knew the young man's mother had died when he was in his late teens and that his father had sent him away to a private academy to complete his degree soon after.

The Councilor had paid very little attention to his son since his birth; his neglect making Justin willful and self-indulgent, the classic brat. From what he could see, Justin carried that badge with honor and worked diligently to raise it to an art form.

Justin's father's passion was politics; his mother's had been music. Justin had loved his mother very much and shared that love of music. His only feat of self-discipline in his life had been to finish college and master a musical instrument. Young Evers' final tribute to her memory.

Soon, Choate's thoughts turned to something stronger, something hotter. . .Choate rose to his feet, reaching for his jacket. Time for another long brisk walk in the chill of the night air.

~~~~~~

At the same time, in another part of the mansion, Justin lay on the bed in his room. With an exaggerated sigh, he flopped over on his stomach, bringing his pillow from against the headboard to under his chin as he remembered the encounter he'd had earlier that day.

Justin stood in the shadows of the foyer watching the man he'd first seen in the mansion garden's last night on the phone by the windows. Justin still didn't know his identity. Sleeping late, he hadn't had a chance to ask one of the staff.

The sunlight streamed through the open drapes, accentuating the harsh planes of that rugged face. The younger Evers found himself drawn to the fluidity of his movements, crisp and concise, no wasted energy.

Justin watched the man's profile as he focused on the sheet of paper in his hand. With his attention divided between the written words and his telephone conversation, he didn't notice his audience. The timbre and tone of that voice were like velvet to Justin's senses. The young man felt he could listen to that voice forever.

The mystery man hung up and Justin started as he heard:

"Justin!"

Young Evers turned to find his father standing behind him.

"I didn't know you were here."

Justin tinged pink, glancing over to find his object of his earlier scrutiny also watching him. "I just got in a couple days ago. You were busy, I guess."

The Councilor finally noticed the direction of his son's gaze and said, "Oh, Justin, this is Mr. Choate, my new aide. He's really been a great help to me over the past few months. I don't know how I managed without him."

Mr. Choate! Now the vision had a name.

Choate smiled a tiny smile and inclined his head to graciously acknowledge the compliment.

"Paddy, this is my son, Justin."

"We've met, Councilor."

Justin felt a moment of panic. This man would tell his father just how they'd met!

"Oh?" the Councilor said.

"Briefly yesterday. Justin must've been coming in from a date." And he smiled a wicked, knowing smile that let Justin know he owed him one.

Justin took a deep, steadying breath. Now, you could add, 'And that killer smile!' to his already long list of gushings. "Yes. . .yes, we did," he stammered. "I was--" Justin' voice trailed off.

Loren Evers seemed oblivious to it all and continued, undaunted. "Justin's been. . .where was it this time, son?"

Justin had been studying the aide so hard he almost missed the question. "Uh, Paris," he said softly, averting his eyes only to move them immediately back again.

"Right! Studying with some of his friends. He fancies himself an artist. Some of his paintings are quite good. Anyway, Justin how long are you home this time?"

Choate returned Justin's accessing gaze with such intensity that both missed the Councilor's question and he had to repeat himself twice.

Finally, Justin mumbled, "I don't know," before excusing himself and fleeing the room.

~~~~~~

Coming back to the present, Justin rolled over on his back and slid his hands down his nude body until his hands encircled the blossoming erection.

Being educated in some of the finest, all male educational institutions in the United States, he learned at an early age he was bisexual (well, leaning more towards the right side of 'bi'). Justin also learned that he had a greater appreciation for male flesh. Justin groaned as he stroked himself. The females of the species were fine, it's just that the male. . .well, is the male! And the one male dominating his thoughts right now was alpha male! The young Evers squeezed himself once more and came with a rush and a name whispered softly, "Paddy." Then curled in the center of the bed, a tight, sated ball.

~~~~~~

A year later found Justin no closer to training his father's aide to take his commands seriously, but still mooning over unrequited love. Justin had told Choate he was ready to leave over thirty minutes ago.

The younger Evers paced the first floor lobby of Cascade Memorial Hospital. Stopping to check his watch, he angrily resumed his pacing. Two minutes later found him angrily pressing the 'up' elevator button.

Lindell Walters, Choate's go-fer was coming from the conference room.

"Lindell, where's Paddy?" Justin demanded in a high-handed manner.

By now well used to the Councilor's son's fits of temper, Lindell calmly answered, "Sixth floor."

"What's he doing on the sixth floor?" Justin asked, exasperated. "I told him I was ready to go."

Lindell only shrugged.

Young Evers fumed the entire four floor ride up the elevator and on the long walk to the nurses' station. Once there, he stopped in front of the counter. Not waiting to be acknowledged by the matronly woman standing there, he announced, "I'm looking for a man, I was told he came up here. Tall, sandy-blond hair, chiselled features, brown eyes. He was wearing a charcoal-grey suit."

Her face brightened. "Mr. Paddy! Yes, he's here. He came late today, the children were restless. They thought he wasn't coming, but I told them he wouldn't let them down."

Stunned, Justin sought verification, "Children?"

"Yes."

"Whose children?"

"The ones in critical care. He comes Tuesdays and Wednesdays to read to them."

"Reads?"

"Yes. Mr. Paddy's wonderful. He very seldom misses a day. There's nothing that can be done for these children except make them comfortable and wait. Some of them don't even have visitors at all. They look forward to him reading to them."

In a daze, Justin walked to the room the nurse indicated. He hadn't even known his father's aide liked children. And, somehow, picturing the large man having the patience to sit and read to small, lonely, sick children, was beyond his comprehension.

Chief Aide Choate sat in a large chair by the window. 'What is it about this man and sunlight?' Justin thought idly as he watched the glow of the outside light surround him like an aura. 'I've lusted for this man so long, I'm starting to wax poetic.'

Choate had two small children on his lap, one on each knee. Neither could've been older than six, both tiny, wan, with IVs in their arms, the bags suspended on metal 'trees' behind them. A red head rested on his left shoulder, tight black curls on his right. There was a large picture book between them.

Justin reached the doorway, ready to screech his anger at his father's employee, when the words he heard registered, stopping him.

Listening, for a moment, he heard his mother's voice. The young man blinked in an attempt to clear away the mental picture of the tiny woman reading to an even tinier child. In his imagination her voice read the words he hadn't heard in nearly a quarter of a century. Then her voice altered and deepened into a rich baritone and the mental image faded into reality, but the words remained the same. Justin wondered if the man in the chair had any idea what he read meant to him. Any idea how that story would effect him.

There were four more children in the room, all in beds against the walls. All too ill to raise their heads, but still their little faces turned towards the figure in the chair. Mesmerized by the cadence of his voice, drawn to the light of his presence like the flowers in a garden to the sunlight,
enthralled by the comfort of his tone, caught in the web he spun until he released them with the magic words, 'Always and Forever.'

When he closed the book, all small eyes closed with it.

Then chocolate brown ones met deep green ones and Justin realized Choate had been aware of his presence all along. That he had chosen the story purposely. That he knew.

Feeling vulnerable and overcome by a sudden flood of disconcerting emotions, Justin turned and fled the room.

~~~~~~

Choate checked his watch, shifting impatiently a moment before willing himself still. 'Technical difficulties' had put the debate behind schedule. Senator Ashe was up next, then Senator Dove, then Councilor Evers. At this rate, they'd be here all night.

"Paddy."

Choate turned.

"Something wrong?"

"Justin's concert starts in an hour, sir."

"Oh, damn!" The Councilor looked around. "There's no way we'll make it."

"He has a solo. He's been working on it for weeks. It was a difficult piece to master. They're going to give him an achievement award. This is important to him."

"I know, Paddy, I know," the Councilor said impatiently. "What do you want me to do?"

Choate waited, watching the Councilor's gaze shift from the podium back to him. "I'll go," he said softly, hiding the amusement he felt at seeing the relief reflected on the Councilor's face.

"Yes, Paddy, someone should be there."

"I'll give Lindell my notes."

The Councilor nodded. "Go. We'll be all right."


Justin had just peeked through the stage curtains at the two empty seats out front. He stormed back to his dressing room and roughly began stuffing his flute in its case. He really hadn't expected his father to be there. Councilor Evers hadn't attended one of his concerts since his mother'd died. But Paddy. . .young Evers wasn't sure why he'd expected the Aide to be there, but he had. And he wasn't.

"Told you!"

"Justin, what are you doing?!"

He turned. Their instructor, Madame Fuentes and, legend in her own mind, Trisha Hart Philips were in the doorway.

"He's leaving. Quitting! I told you not to give the solo to him. That he'd let you down! You should've given the solo to me."

"Hush, Trisha," the madame admonished, her accent thickening when she became emotional. "Justin," she began, then a heavier voice interrupted.

"Justin."

Everyone turned towards the door.

"Sorry I'm late. I had to change and make dinner arrangements. The limo was late and I had to get you these."

Patrick Choate stepped into the room decked out in an exquisitely tailored tux, holding a bouquet of a dozen pristine, white, perfectly-formed bud roses.

Justin blinked. "Paddy?"

"Did you think I wasn't coming?" he smiled as he walked over to stand in front of the flabbergasted young man. "I wouldn't miss this for the world." Then he leaned forward and kissed Justin's forehead lightly.

Justin froze, the contact sending pulses of electricity throughout his body.

When Mr. Choate straightened, Justin staggered slightly. "Are you all right?" he asked, pushing the flowers in Justin's hands.

There was nothing Justin could do to hide his bewilderment. "Paddy, what???"

He touched his fingertips to Justin's cheek. "I know. . ." he paused, "dulce."

The level of intimacy that word and the tone of his voice implied sent the blood rushing express from Justin's head to a point south of his navel.

"Dulce?"

Choate leaned in and whispered in a conspiratory manner. "Sí, mmmm, sweet, dulce. I promise I'll make it up to you. . .later." He smiled an evil smile that left no doubt of his intentions, as he looked back at the women behind him.

'He's putting on a show for them.' Justin thought, but as he opened his mouth to accuse the older man, Choate straightened and swatted him sharply on his bottom causing him to yelp. "Now get moving, imp! You're on next." He gave the club of hair resting on Justin's neck a tug before strolling away, nodding briefly at the two dumbstruck females perched just inside the doorway. "Salud," he said cheerfully. "Madame Fuentes, el concierto estaría un buen éxito, a ciencia cierta." He smiled warmly at her. "Señorita," he said, nodding to Trisha.

One final look back into the room found Justin standing there with a comically clueless look on his face, tightly gripping the roses to his chest with one hand and rubbing the site of Choate's earlier attention with the other.

"Justin," he said sharply. "Concert!" And grinned again as the young Evers scampered into action.

Several minutes later, the curtain opened slowly on a dark stage. The light blossomed slowly on a stool in the center. Justin sat there, holding his flute, one perfectly-formed, white rose bud in his jacket's lapel, surrounded by the long, black cascade of his hair flowing around him, slightly wavy from the braid.

Choate's breath caught in his throat at the captivating sight before him.

Justin smiled, looking down at Choate, and began to play. His full, moist lips moved sumptuously with each exhale of air as his fingers caressed the instrument lovingly. Justin held eye contact with the older man throughout the piece and Choate helplessly sustained a raging hard-on until the concert was over.

Justin received his award graciously, thanking everyone who had helped him achieve his goal. Then, while Choate was locked in conversation with Madame Fuertes, who sang her favorite student's praises to him in Spanish, Justin proceeded to work his way towards the champagne fountain.

An hour later, a swaying young Evers appeared in front of Choate.

"Paddy," he said with a lopsided smile. "There're two of you!"

The Councilor's Aide frowned at him. "Are you drunk?"

Justin frowned, shaking his head negatively. "Not me." He swayed dangerously off balance. "Had one glass."

Choate reached out a steadying hand. "You're this socked from one glass of champagne?"

"No." He made a face. "Champagne is awful, Paddy! Trisha had this little silver flask--" he giggled as he showed the size of the item with his hands. "It's some powerful stuff." He giggled again. "She really isn't as bad as they say--" he stopped talking as he swayed again, this time towards Choate who caught and held him against his chest.

Choate looked over to the farside of the room and saw Trisha, an evil smile on her face that set off all his warning bells. Springing into action, Choate took Justin by the arm and pulled him towards the stairs.

"What?" Justin sputtered as he had to rush to keep up the frantic pace.

In the bathroom, Choate unceremoniously yanked Justin into an empty stall. "I'm sorry," he said, wrapping the fullness of Justin's hair around his left arm. Then the agent used that hand to squeeze Justin's jaw at the hinges and rammed the first two fingers of his right hand down the young man's throat.

Justin barely had enough time to gasp before he choked, his stomach rolling. Choate leaned him over the porcelain bowl an instant before the contents of Justin's stomach spewed like a geyser into the porcelain bowl.

The ride home was quiet and subdued. Justin curled into a miserable ball against the window and answering all Choate's inquiries with a single syllable punctuated by a moan.

When they arrived home, Choate immediately ordered Justin up to bed and then went to his room to change clothes.

A half-hour later, the aide decided to check on his 'patient.'

When his knock went unanswered, Choate quietly opened the door and peered in.

Justin lay half on and half off the bed, sound asleep, fully dressed with the exception of one sock and one shoe. The shoe was on the floor by the bed, the sock being held loosely in an outstretched hand.

Shaking his head, Choate shut the door behind him and went to rescue. "Justin," he said softly.

The young man stirred enough to look up. "I don't feel well, Paddy," he whispered, the pitiful sound of his voice enough to break your heart.

"Do you need to throw up again?"

Justin looked at Choate's outstretched hand, shook his head vigorously, then moaned from the pain the motion caused.

Choate laughed softly. "Then come on, let's get you to bed."

Poor Justin tried to help as Choate began to undress him and only succeeded in nearly strangling himself with his cravat.

"Justin, sit still," Choate ordered after the heavy mass of ebony hair recoiled when both tugged off Evers' shirt and nearly blinded him.

Justin obeyed and Choate quickly got him down to his briefs.

Justin hooked his fingers in the waistband. Choate stopped him.

"That's enough, Justin," the Chief Aide rasped, his voice gravelly.

"Sleep nude," informed him in total innocence.

"Not tonight." He pulled back the covers. "In."

Meekly, Justin lay down and allowed himself to be tucked in.

"Goodnight," Choate said softly, resisting a strong urge to kiss away the infinitesimal frown between the young man's brows.

Great, dark eyes caught his, pleading, "Stay with me a little while, Paddy."

"I don't think that's a good idea," Choate said, wishing he could say yes.

"Why not?"

How could Choate tell this young man his self-control hung by a frayed thread? What did you say, I'm about this close to burying myself so deep in you we'll share the same heartbeat? "Close your eyes, Justin."

Justin watched him a moment, wondering at the dark look on the man's face, but not questioning, afraid of the answer. Finally, he obeyed.

Choate watched the small figure until he saw his breathing begin to slow, then slipped quietly from the room.

~~~~~~

For a typical Autumn day in Cascade, the air wasn't so much cold as it was bracing. The trees were alive with color. A glorious day to be out, if you liked the out-of-doors, which Brown did not. Neither did Justin and both were outside for the same reason: Patrick Choate.

Brown called and asked Choate to meet him somewhere to talk. Easedropping at the study door, Justin heard the aide's side of the conversation.

"Going somewhere, Paddy?"

"Yes," he said, shrugging into his coat.

"I thought you had something to do for the Councilor?"

"I'll be back."

"An emergency?

"You could say that."

And he shut the door. Justin watched him through the window a moment before following him.

Choate saw Brown sitting at the designated site, idly tossing peanuts to the squirrels. He stood a short distance away and observed the man's graceful movements.

"You gonna stand there all day? It's freezing out here," Brown said finally, not turning around.

Choate laughed softly to himself as he approached the older man and sat on the bench next to him. "It's not cold."

"I knew you'd say that."

Choate only smiled and it struck Brown that his ex-lover hadn't done that in a long time.

"Why couldn't we meet at a restaurant?"

"And miss all this beauty?"

"You did this on purpose, didn't you?"

"You mean schedule a meeting outside in the cold knowing you don't like either? Me? Never!" The smile became playful.

"I have a feeling our next meeting'll be in my office, after hours. You're due, you know."

The playful smile dimmed a bit, but didn't vanish. "What was so important you couldn't tell me over the phone?"

"You ready to blow this post?"

"It's been almost four years, why ask me now? You find someone else you want to torture more?"

"No."

"Then you're going to leave the Councilor high and dry."

"You know better than that."

"Then it was just a rhetorical question."

"Humor me."

"This's another of your psychological 'tests', isn't it? What do you expect to hear?"

"The truth."

"My truth or the agency's?"

"Would it be too much to ask they be one in the same?"

Choate believed that was a rhetorical question, so he shrugged. "He's a nice guy."

"And that's an evasive response."

"Do you have something else for me?"

"No."

Choate held Brown's gaze. "What, then?"

Brown smiled a small smile and shook his head.

"What?"

The older man came to his feet slowly.

Choate stood with him. "What, old man!"

Brown leaned forward taking his ex-brat by the shoulders until his cheek rested against Choate's, and his lips were close to Choate's ear. "Remember how you used to squirm helplessly, trying to get away when I had you over my knees blistering that tight, square ass of yours?"

Choate blushed a red so bright, Justin could see it from where he stood. Choate was clearly flustered as the other man walked away. Something Justin would've sworn he'd never see. From his angle, it had been a kiss. Just a simple kiss, dammit! Jealousy raced through him. Judging from the aide's reaction, there was something between the two of them. Or the bigger man must've been some helluva kisser!

~~~~~~

Half-hidden in the shadows on the far side of the banquet hall, he leaned idly against one of the elaborate Grecian pillars that reached from floor to ceiling. Justin stood motionless except for an occasional restless shift, Choate watched him nurse the drink in his hand and scope out the room. The brat had balked at his invitation, saying he hated these boring political social affairs. Choate had handled that by bullying until Justin threw his hands up in defeat, mentally promising to make his father's aide pay dearly for his acquiescence.

For the tenth time that night, Justin caught himself unconsciously tracking the athletic figure of Patrick Edward Choate. It had been almost three years since young Evers' had seen Choate and his lover in the park. Two since he'd fled the hospital room. Successfully convincing himself he could never compete for Choate's affections with the great bear of a man, Justin had spent a good deal of that time out of the country.

But you can't run away from yourself. And Justin found the Chief Aide never far from his thoughts. Justin whistled silently to himself in admiration. . . the man could fill out a tux! (But the young Evers also knew his father's aide would look good in anything, or nothing at all!) For the past year or so, the stuff of his dreams bore a label with Paddy's name emblazoned on it.

Caught deep in an erotic fantasy involving whipped dairy products and the subject in question, he startled when he heard the deep voice purr in his ear, "Bored, Justin?"

Finding the man looked even better close up, Justin barely had enough presence of mind to answer, "Out of my skull, Paddy."

Choate smirked. That's exactly the kind of response he'd expected. Poor, coddled child seemed locked in a constant state of boredom. He had been away for a long time. Wishful thinking made Choate believe the Councilor's son ran from his growing attraction to him. But Choate was too practical to lend much credence to that. All he knew was that he desperately missed the imp in his absence and was glad when he returned.

Justin glanced at him briefly before returning his gaze to the room and Patrick felt pierced by the monetary gaze from those mesmerizing, green eyes. This man was too handsome for his own good.

Patrick smiled as Justin pushed a stray stand of jet-black hair back behind his ear. The waist-length locks had been twisted into a braid then tortured into a club at the back of his head, secured by a wide gold band. Choate hated it that way and he could tell from the triumphant look on the brat's face, Justin knew it too. Young Evers usually wore it loose which only added to his exotic allure. Choate longed to wrap himself in the ebony mass, wondering if it was as soft as it looked.

The diamond stud in his ear mocked him. It had been a 'please don't leave me' gift from Justin's last conquest. The gift had bought the poor girl some time, but, in the end, she went the way of her predecessor.

Justin was a free spirit in search of the next greatest pleasure, the next greatest thrill. And Justin Evers didn't seem to care where that pleasure came from, or from whom. He was looking for something, or someone. Choate desperately wanted that someone to be him, but he wanted to be more than a passing fling. Heaven help him, the Chief Aide'd discovered in the past several months that he loved the brat, not that it'd do him any good. Choate knew Justin only thought of him as his daddy's hired help, when he thought of him at all. Indispensable, discreet, efficient, but still an employee and beneath Justin's notice. Choate sighed quietly as that harmless thought started a well-used drama playing out in his head.

Suddenly, Justin perked up. "Hel-lo."

The Aide roused himself to follow Evers' line of sight.

His eyes almost seemed to glow. "What have we here?"

Choate's gaze fell on the object of Justin's interest, causing his heart to sink. Young, an almost ethereal spirit, beautiful, delicious and. . .young! Justin had nothing, if not good taste.

"Who is he, Paddy?" he all but purred.

Choate briefly thought of ignoring the request, instead, he found himself flipping through his mental Rolodex of who's who. "Sorry," he murmured, not really sorry at all.

"I thought you knew everybody!"

"This one got by me." Choate shrugged, trying to ignore the luscious sight of Justin's lower lip as it crept out into a near-irresistible pout. "He must be someone's date."

"Damn, I hope not," Justin said, looking like a hungry cat. "Looks like he's alone. If he were with me, I wouldn't let him out of my sight."

'Kind of like me,' Choate thought. He had just started to pray for salvation, when a predatory-looking male, filling out a tux deliciously, approached. The two smiled at each other.
'Thank you,' he exulted silently.

"You know him?"

Choate nodded. "Detective James Ellison. Cascade Police. Ex-military. Extremely impressive credentials."

"You think they know each other?"

"If they don't, they will. You can cook meat with the looks they're giving each other." 'Wish you'd look at me with half that heat. I'd have you stripped bare and writhing helplessly under me before you could blink an eye.'

"Who cares about that? I don't want to keep him, Paddy."

The bottom dropped from his heart. "You never do," he whispered.

Evers continued, not hearing, or ignoring the comment. "I just want to use him for this evening."

Choate's gaze shifted to the new arrival. "Detective Ellison might have something to say about that," he said, trying to let his concern reflect in his words.

"Then we just won't tell Detective Ellison, will we, Paddy?"

'Don't let him, you fool!' his mind screamed at him. Choate caught Evers' arm as he started forward. "Justin, no."

The older man's touch sent a jolt of awareness up Justin's arm straight to his heart. But when he looked up into Choate's face, instead of jealousy or lust, Justin saw only stern forbiddance and concern. He raised an eyebrow. "No?" Then, with an exaggerated show of contempt to disguise his disappointment, shook off the contact. "No?" And snorted derisively. "Get real, Paddy." Then walked away.

For a second, just a second, Choate could've sworn he saw. . .no, it had only been a reflection of his own want and desire. He followed at a discreet distance ready to save Justin's bacon yet again and beginning to realize how Brown felt when Choate'd pushed him to his limit. The awareness began with an itch in his right palm.

The smaller, curly-haired man picked something up from the buffet as Detective Ellison surveyed the table. Justin watched the easy interplay between the two. The smaller one took an hors d'oeuvre delicately from his fingers with his teeth and the detective watched helplessly as it disappeared into his mouth aided by an elaborate swirl of his tongue. Still too far away to hear the verbal exchange, Justin could read the seductive body language, and see the smaller man lick cocktail sauce from his fingers like a cat after cream and could see the detective's eyes were glued to the spectacle as he did it.

The officer's professional smile faltered a moment, then righted itself and he leaned in close to whisper something into his companion's ear. Closer now, Justin heard the sharp hiss from the exchange.

Detective Ellison stiffened but didn't pull away when the smaller man answered.

Justin had watched the exchange and felt such a surge of envy for the obvious love shared that he hated them both immediately. "Detective Ellison?" he said softly, when he came close enough to be heard.

Jim straightened abruptly trying to keep the flush from his face. He'd been concentrating on his companion and hadn't heard the two men approach.

Choate saw the emotions play across Justin's face and quickly stepped forward to distract him. "Detective Ellison, this is Justin Evers, Councilor Evers' son. Justin wanted to meet you."

Jim shook his hand. "Mr. Evers."

The little aside had given young Evers a chance to compose himself and get his emotions under control. "I just wanted to compliment you on the fine work you're doing here."

Ellison frowned slightly, as if sensing something amiss, but only said, "Thank you."

But Justin wasn't looking at Jim anymore, his eyes were on the smaller man.

The frown deepened, but the detective took the hint. "This is my partner, Blair Sandburg."

Justin clasped the beautiful young man's hand warmly. "Pleased to meet you, Officer Sandburg."

Choate shook his head at the brat's obvious attempt at flattery.

"Or are you a detective, too? You don't look like a police officer."

He smiled, a radiantly gracious smile. "Blair, please. And actually, I'm not. I'm a grad student."

The Councilor's Aide watched as Detective Ellison stepped a little closer, looking pointedly at their still clasped hands. Blair noticed immediately and his lips curved in a tiny smile as he gently extricated his hand from Justin's grasp. Choate relaxed a little. So they did know one another. Now, if only Justin would take the hint.

"Professor Sandburg is on loan to us from Rainier University in an advisory capacity," Jim explained smoothly.

"Hmmm. You don't look much like a college professor, either." Justin said in an indulgent tone.

"Jim." An officer in full uniform came up on their right. "Captain wants you downstairs."

Relief at the avenue of escape showed clearly on Ellison's face, not that Choate blamed him. "Excuse me, gentlemen. Duty calls."

"Need me to come, Jim?" The radiant smile became mischievous.

"That's the plan, partner."

Blair, clearly delighted with the exchange, remembered his manners at the last minute. "It was a pleasure meeting you."

Justin's envy turned to jealousy. He wanted this kind of play between his father's aide and himself. "The pleasure was all mine, I assure you. I hope I'll see you later, before the party ends."

Blair nodded briefly before racing to catch up to Jim's rapidly retreating form.

For about the hundredth time since they met, Choate regretted his decision not to take this young man in hand, as he so obviously needed. "What're you up to, Justin?" Patrick Choate asked suspiciously, seeing the contemplation of devilment so evident on that pixie face.

"What makes you think I'm up to anything?" Justin's angelic expression still needed a little work.

"I know that look."

"You've got me all wrong, Paddy."

'That's the problem, Justin, I don't have you at all,' Choate thought despondently as he cursed himself for a coward. He never used to be. He attributed it to the continuing fallout from his break up with Winn. "He's taken, you know."

'That's all you've got to say to me?!' Justin thought, his anger causing him to snap, "I'm not blind. Even more reason to have him. No messy entanglements. We have a few hours of fun and we each go our separate ways. No one the wiser."

"Detective Ellison doesn't seem the type to share," he replied mildly, when he wanted to say, 'Lay off, brat, you're mine!'

"I'm not 'sharing'. I'm just 'borrowing'."

"Suppose the Professor doesn't want to be 'borrowed'?"

"Hey, who can resist me?" He smiled brightly before sauntering off.

'I only know I can't,' Choate thought right before turning to go in the opposite direction.

~~~~~~

Justin watched Blair sway on his feet. That gave him a few ideas, so he began plotting. When the young anthropologist started and cast at guilty glance towards his partner, young Evers made his decision. He slipped behind Blair as he began easing from the room. "Sneaking off from the festivities?"

Blair jumped, turning to face Justin Evers.

"Jim's busy talking to his captain. He doesn't need me right now."

"You look tired." 'He's very attractive,' Justin thought.

Blair rubbed the back of his neck. "It's been a long week."

"Not enjoying yourself?" he asked, when he knew the answer.

Blair shook his head. "These things bore me."

"I know how you feel. Say, want to duck out? I know this place that plays great music."

Blair shook his head again. "I'd better not. Jim wanted to go straight home after this."

"Your detective sounds a little over possessive." 'If only Paddy'd care that much about me!' Justin thought forlornly.

Blair shrugged nonchalantly. "I want to go straight home, too."

"He got something special planned for the two of you?" Justin could just guess what that was.

Blair looked at him as if considering his answer carefully. "You'd have to ask him about that."

"No, I don't," Justin replied, barely keeping the envy from sounding in his voice. "It shows on his face when he looks at you, and the way you look at him back."

Blair's look turned from speculative to sly. "Kind of like the way you and Paddy look at one another?"

This shocked Justin. He thought his feelings well-hidden. "Paddy? Me? I don't think so," he said. His father'd taught him, when in doubt, deny.

"Why not? Because you're political royalty and he's the hired help?"

For a moment Justin wondered if Paddy thought he felt that way. "You think I'd look down on him because of that?"

"Do you?"

"No! The problem isn't me. Mr. Choate wouldn't give me the time of day if it wasn't for his job," Justin said sadly, remembering the looks of annoyance the aide gave him sometimes. "I'm just a nuisance."

"I used to think that way about my situation. Wasted a lot of valuable time playing games when I didn't have to."

Justin felt a ray of hope. "So what did you do?"

"I kissed him," Blair paused, smiling shyly, "Then, I told him how I felt."

The hope slid away, quickly replaced by an icy wash of fear. "No. No, I couldn't do that." Choate was across the room talking to his father and the assistant mayor. Justin watched him with hungry eyes.

Tenacious as a bull dog, Blair asked, "Why not?"

Justin looked as young as he felt as he admitted, "I don't handle rejection very well."

Blair almost laughed. "And you think he'd reject you?"

"If I confessed my feelings, Patrick Edward Choate would probably laugh in my face."

"That's a little harsh, don't you think?"

They were getting off the track, here. "Say, I don't want to talk about this anymore. OK?" He looked back at Choate for a moment, allowing himself to wish. Then steeled himself against the disappointment. He turned back to Blair with an overly-bright smile. "I tell you what. I rented a suite on the seventeenth floor, just in case I was too blitzed to drive home. You're welcome to crash up there for a while."

Blair hesitated. "Thanks, Justin, but. . ."

Justin pressed the key into his hand and continued persuasively, "Here, you go on up. I'll find your partner and tell him where you are, then come up to join you. I've got some great music up there, we can listen to CDs and relax until it's time to go. OK?"

Blair hesitated. You could almost see the debate going on inside his head in the expression on his face. Justin could tell the moment his fatigue won out over his apprehension. "OK."

~~~~~~

Justin opened the door quietly and stood there in silence watching Blair explore the suite.
Once again struck by the young man's beauty. He could understand Ellison's attraction, since he felt the same attraction for a certain Neanderthal. Justin smiled sadly, but he wasn't acting on that attraction, he was here trying to seduce Blair. Justin felt a twinge of guilt at using the young anthropologist as a pawn in his scheme to get Choate's attention.

Blair turned. "Damn, man. I didn't hear you come in! You almost gave me a heart attack."

Silently, Justin admitted his attraction to Blair. But deep down, he didn't really want him. He wanted Paddy. He wanted Paddy to stop him. He wanted Paddy to claim him. "Sorry. Your partner said he'd be up to get you when he's done. And that you should stay put."

Blair smiled, the love he felt shining brightly on his face. "That sounds so like him."

His face lit with love, as well. "Yeah, Paddy orders me around like that sometimes." Justin laughed, for once, in complete accord with Blair. "So, take your coat and shoes off. When I left he was getting very heavy into that police thing so it might be a while."

Blair shed the articles of clothing and sank deep in the plushness of the couch. He moaned with pleasure.

"Blair?" Justin said softly, offering something guaranteed to loosen up his guest. To Justin's complete and utter surprise, Blair freaked.

"Whoa, man, are you out of your mind?" He held both hands in front of himself defensively. "My partner's a cop, remember? A highly anal cop! A big, highly anal cop with a short fuse about this kind of stuff! If he even gets a whiff of that--"

"Blair, chill! He's seventeen floors below us. . ."

"He might as well be in the next room. Jim's got like finely-tuned radar when it comes to me, truth, man. Come on, Justin, get rid of that! With my luck, he's zeroing in on us right now."

"Are you paranoid, or what? Don't worry," Justin said placatingly. "So what if he catches us, Paddy'll take care of it. Paddy always takes care of it."

"That may be fine for you, but it won't help me! Put it away, OK? WAY away. Like next county away!"

Justin never thought of putting someone else's feelings above his own and it surprised him Blair would be so concerned about what his partner thought. But this was about seduction, not fear. For what young Evers had in mind to work, he had to have Blair's trust. So he took his stash to the other room.

When he returned, he'd taken off his coat, shoes and unbuttoned his shirt, pulling it from his trousers. "Do you want a drink, then? He won't mind that, will he?"

Blair shook his head. "Had too much already."

Justin had to get him to drink or eat something. "Coffee?"

"It's kinda late."

"I have this Turkish blend you've got to try." He paused, assessing his guest, maybe, if he offered something sweet. "Or, maybe a latte?"

Blair brightened. "Latte?"

'For the inner child', Justin thought, "Mocha, extra cream?"

"I don't want to put you to any trouble."

His prey showed signs of weakening. "No trouble at all, Blair."

~~~~~~

Justin watched and made small talk. It took an hour before Blair began to show the effects of the drug.

"I must've been more tired than I thought."

Justin slipped from the chair and moved to sit close to Blair on the couch. Slowly, he leaned forward and began unbuttoning Blair's shirt. "It's all right, Blair." He said soothingly as he began kissing down his jawline.

Blair pushed feebly at the chest before him. "No, Justin." His words slurred. It slowly dawned on him, "You drugged me!"

Justin had just put a drop in Blair's coffee. He wanted him relaxed, not unconscious. "Just a little something to help you relax." He said as he kissed down his neck. "You are so beautiful. We are going to have so much fun."

"Aww, Justin." He pushed at him again, more weakly than before.

"Come on, Blair, you can't tell me you don't want to."

"Yes, I can."

"I don't believe you." Justin said, as he maneuvered Blair prone on the couch.

"You don't want to believe me," Blair stated as he squirmed to escape Justin's grasp.

"Is it about that feral cop of yours? Are you afraid of him?" And he'd understand if he said yes. Justin understood fear.

"Yes, it's about Jim. No, I'm not afraid." Justin could barely understand the word. "We are committed, Justin."

"You don't think he cheats on you?"

"I KNOW he doesn't!"

"Bull! Nobody's committed anymore," Justin exclaimed as he stretched out over the top of Blair's body, settled between his legs and tried again to nibble down Blair's neck. "They're in it for what they can get out of it."

Blair still struggled, although his thrashing became weaker. "Paddy wouldn't cheat! He would commit! And so could you, if you gave it a chance."

The grad student's words made Justin uncomfortable. He tried to shut him up with kisses, but Blair turned his head to the side. "Come on, Blair!" he said as he took him by the chin and tried to turn his head back to face him.

"No. . ." Blair strained away. "Jim. . ."

"Jim's downstairs." Justin said, seeking to reassure him. "Don't worry! He's doing his cop thing. It'll be hours before he even misses you. He'll never know what you've done!"

"He'll know! He'll see it in my eyes! He'll smell you--" Blair stopped talking as he felt fingers at his zipper and panicked. "No, Justin!" He began to squirm, fear lending him strength.

Thoughts of his father's aide kept creeping into Justin's mind. Paddy would not approve, the little voice inside quietly informed him. Justin shook all thoughts of guilt aside. But, even as beautiful as Blair was, his body refused to react to him. Paddy! The little voice mocked, 'It's because you want your father's Chief Aide!' To have him here, now. . .if Justin tried hard, he could almost imagine him here instead of Blair. And Paddy would be on top, Paddy would always be on top! And that's where Justin wanted him.

Picturing that sculptured body covering his, those strong arms around him. . .just the though caused his cock to fill with a rush--

Blair's struggles allowed Justin's body slip between his open legs. His erection brushing against the crotch of Blair's trousers. Blair tried again to appeal to Justin, "Why are you doing this?! If it's to make Paddy jealous, there are other ways that don't involve hurting me."

This time Justin froze. "What?"

"I don't want this," Blair panted out the words, achingly slow and carefully. "Neither do you," he scolded as he struggled to sit up.

Justin slid off Blair's prone body and helped him rise to a sitting position.

Blair's power of speech faltered. "Wrong," was all he could say.

"But, I--"

"Think, Justin." Blair breathed deeply, trying to clear his head. "If Jim doesn't kill you, Paddy will," he said as he began pulling his clothes back together.

Without thinking, Justin began to help. "No, Paddy doesn't care, Blair. I told you. He never has."

"Then try telling him how you feel. Now. Before you do something stupid. . .criminal."

Suddenly, the suite's door separated from the frame like it was made of balsa.

When the two men entered the room, both saw Justin leaning over Jim's partner, struggling with Blair's clothes.

Jim took one glance at the stricken look on Blair's face, caught Justin by the scruff of the neck and threw him aside before Choate could stop him.

Young Evers landed hard against the opposite wall with a resounding thud before bouncing off into a crumbled heap. Choate reached young Evers' side before he hit the floor.

"Blair?" Jim hesitated less than a second before gathering Blair into his arms.

Blair dissolved into tears, an angry expression on his face. "That wasn't necessary." He sobbed against Ellison's chest. "What took you so long?"

Jim crooned softly, stroking his fingers through Blair's hair, "Sorry, love. I must be getting slow in my old age."

Blair weakly punched him in the shoulder. "Not old!" he mumbled.

Jim chuckled. "OK, tough guy."

Choate listened to the rest of their conversation with half an ear as he checked Justin for injuries. He found him shaken, but not seriously hurt. A thin trickle of blood trailed from his left nostril. Choate reached into his inside pocket for a handkerchief.

Behind him, Jim comforted his lover.

Blair sobbed again. "Almost had it under control."

"I know you did. Shhh, it's all right now."

"Patronizing!"

"No, imp, I've seen you in action before, remember? I know what you can do. He didn't stand a chance."

"Seemed so nice! Was so tired! Said I could come up here. Listen to music. Said he'd tell you! Put something in coffee. Didn't know, Jim."

"I know, Chief. Shhh." Jim pulled away and began straightening and refastening his clothes. "Let's get you fixed so we can get you home."

Blair tried to button his shirt. "Told him, no. Told him, NO! Told how I feel 'bout you!"

Jim finished buttoning Blair's shirt and stood him up to tuck it in his pants and fasten them. "Maybe he did it because you did tell him no, babe." He took Blair's shoes and slipped them on his feet.

"No! Did it to make him," He said as he glanced over at Choate, "jealous. Didn't want to hurt me. Had stopped. . .was helping with clothes. . ." Big, watery eyes searched Jim's for an answer, reassurances. "So sorry, Jim."

'What?!' Choate knew he hadn't heard them correctly. He stopped listening after that, and concentrated on pressing the cloth hard to Justin's nose, tilting his head back.

They were leaving.

"Paddy," Justin finally, spoke, his voice muffled and petulant. "Call security, I want him arrested."

Jim stopped, Blair wrapped restraining arms around his waist. "No, Jim, please, want to go home."

"He drugged you, Chief. Tried to rape you."

Blair began pulling him toward the door. "No, Jim. . . he had stopped! Swear!"

Jim hesitated a moment, then opened the door.

As much as Choate disapproved of what Justin had done, he felt compelled to defend him. "Detective Ellison, he didn't mean any harm."

Jim turned back into the room, eyes blazing. "He would've caused it whether he meant to or not, Choate. He's done this kind of thing before, hasn't he?" Jim watched the grimace.

"Seduced them, yes. He never hurt anybody."

"That depends on how you define 'hurt'. If he'd finished what he'd started. . ."

"I'm not a rapist! Blair, tell him!"

Jim took a step back in the room. "I don't care what you call it, anyone who doesn't take no for an answer is a rapist!" Then to Choate, "And I wouldn't have been responsible for what I'd have done to him."

Jim noted the way Choate stroked Justin's hair, held the handkerchief to his bloody nose. The way Justin clung to Choate, snuggling into his embrace. "You ever think one of the reasons he does this is to get somebody's attention?"

Choate glanced up to blink stupidly at the detective. "I don't follow."

Jim decided to approach the issue from a different angle. "Maybe it's time daddy took some interest in his son."

Choate shook his head. "The Councilor's too busy with his. . ."

"Then you'd better check him, now, before he does something daddy's money can't get him out of."

"Paddy, stop him! Did you see what he did to me?"

Choate touched gentle fingers to Evers lips to silence him. "I told you to leave them alone, Justin. You can't have everything you want." Then to Jim. "What do you expect me to do, I'm just the hired help."

"From what I can see, you're a lot more than you think. If Blair's right, and all this is to make you jealous, you're halfway there. And if you love him as much as I think you do, make him take responsibility for his actions. Because if you don't, I will. And I guarantee neither of you will like it."

Evers pushed the fingers away from his mouth. "Paddy, I said. . ."

After exchanging a long, meaningful look with the detective, Choate finally nodded as he made a decision. "Shut up, Justin," he commanded in a soft, yet firm voice.

The young man pulled back from the embrace to stare at him disbelievingly. "What did you say to me?"

Jim gathered Blair tight up against him and left the room, closing the door, as best he could, behind him.

Paddy pulled Justin roughly to his feet.

He tried to free himself from his grip and found he couldn't. "Owww," Justin said, even though the grip didn't hurt, then asked indignantly, "What do you think you're doing?"

Making sure the two men had gone, Choate turned his attention to the small figure huddled against him. Setting him back at arm's length, Choate shook him hard once. "You and I are going to have a serious talk."

Justin'd seen Paddy angry before, but this was different. The tone of his voice, plus the look on his face, made Justin afraid. "Paddy, let go of me," he said as he pulled at the Aide's grip again, testing it.

Instead of releasing the young Evers, Choate began drawing him towards the bedroom.

Justin's heart began to race. "Paddy!"

The Chief Aide sat on the edge of the bed, and for one wild moment, Justin believed he was going to pull him down and they'd make mad, passionate love.

Instead, Justin found himself prone, his face in the mattress, draped across Mr. Choate's left thigh, his right leg across both of his, pinning them down.

It took Justin a second to recover his wits enough to realize this wasn't foreplay. In fact, it felt suspiciously like--

"Don't you dare," Justin screeched when he realized what was happening. By then, Mr. Choate had his hands at the closure to Justin's trousers and had worked them loose. With more bluster than he really felt, Justin shouted, "My father'll have your job," squirming to get away. This action only helped Paddy to pull his pants down his thighs.

The first spank hadn't hurt. Hell, he was too shocked for it to. But, as Choate quickened the tempo, Justin thrashed from side to side, his ass beginning to warm from the impact of the blows, truly beginning to hurt now. This was not happening! Choate smacked him really hard once more and Justin cried out in pain and surprise, lurching forward on his lap, "Paddy, no!" kicking clumsily, his legs tangled in the pants of his tux.

"If you can't take no for an answer, why should I?" he said as his hand connected firmly with the back of Justin's silk briefs. "I've watched you try your damnest to destroy every good thing you find!"

His hand descended firmly on young Evers' flesh about every other word. Right cheek, left cheek, alternating back and forth. The spanks increasing in intensity until, now, the pain began to register.

Scissoring his legs, beating his fists on the bed, Justin howled. "Stop. . .Do you hear me? You can't do this to me!"

"I should've done it the first time you smarted off to me. You've been asking for this for four long years, Justin," Choate said angrily as he paused long enough to yank the briefs down to Justin's knees.

Now Choate had added the center of Justin's butt to his attention. Flopping around his lap like a fish, Justin put both hands back to protect the target.

Paddy swatted Justin hard on the back of his thighs, right where they met the curve of his butt. Damn! That hurt worse that anything he'd received before. The Chief Aide smacked his brat about four more times, causing Justin to screech like a banshee.

"Move it," Choate ordered in a quiet, no-nonsense voice.

Then three more.

"Move the hand, Justin," his voice rose a little in volume, but still remained quiet. "This is my last warning."

The eighth thigh spank convinced him, but as soon as Justin moved his hands, Choate attacked the round flesh of his ass with a vengeance.

"You have no right," Justin shrieked. Were those tears he heard in his voice?

If Choate heard them, they made no impression. The angry aide continued spanking him relentlessly. "Just like you had no right drugging and trying to rape Blair earlier this evening."

"It wasn't rape!" Justin protested and as his reward, the next half-dozen landed harder still causing him to scream, then choke as the impact increased even more with the next flurry of swats. "Stop it! Damn you!"

"You act like a spoiled little boy then you get treated like one." Now Choate's hand contacted Justin's butt with every word. "Somebody should've done this to you a long time ago."

Helpless! For the first time in his life Justin had lost control of a situation. He had tried threats, bullying, whining, nothing worked. His ass blazed! Mr. Choate's hand felt solid as stone and the spanks came harder and harder. Paddy was really angry with him this time. He had crossed some invisible line the Aide'd drawn. The last thing Justin wanted to do was lose this man. Hell, lose him, he never had him! Young Evers wanted his attention, but not like this! He had messed this up, really badly, and he didn't know what to do.

"I'm sorry," he wailed.

"Liar! You're not sorry yet."

Now Justin really got scared. "Paddy, please, enough!"

That hand never stopped.

"You don't give the orders here, little boy."

"I AM sorry!!!"

"You're a liar. You've done nothing but lie all your life, and you expect me to believe you now?!"

"I'm not lying! Oh! Owww! Paddy, please!"

"I hate liars, do you know that, Justin?"

Justin wailed pathetically, certain Choate would never stop, "I know it now! I won't lie anymore!" His backside had to be purple by now. "Please, Paddy, I won't! Never!"

"I don't believe you."

Justin's mind whirled. Damn, he felt genuine pain! He couldn't remember anything in his entire life hurt this much. He could picture himself, draped across Choate's lap, being punished like a naughty schoolboy, when what he really wanted were Choate's arms around him, Choate kissing him, fucking him. . .if he didn't stop soon, Justin was going to empty his bladder all over his leg. The thought of the angry Aide's reaction to that really started the tears.

By now, Justin's voice sounded harsh and raspy from his exertions. "Please! Stop! Whatever you want! I won't lie to you again! I'll behave! Paddy, please! I promise!" His voice broke with a sob. "It hurts! Don't spank me anymore!" Then the floodgates opened and Justin wailed helplessly into the bedclothes beneath him.

It took a few minutes before Justin realized Choate had finally stopped. The spanking had ended, but the tears continued. Justin cried as though his heart was breaking.

Suddenly, he felt himself being lifted and turned. Paddy sat him in his lap, put his face in the crook of his neck, and wrapped his arms around him.

Justin really started bawling then. First, because his bottom blazed and contact with Choate's thighs didn't help; secondly, because Paddy held him. His arms strong around him, making his feel safe. The warmth, the security, Justin pretended Choate did it all out of love.

Then Choate started rocking him gently stroking his soft hair, breathing soft, nonsense words into the young man's ear. Justin cried even harder.

Finally, when the bundle on his lap quieted into small, hiccuping sobs, Choate asked: "Why, Justin?"

Justin put his arms around Choate's neck and held on for dear life. That was the one question he didn't want to hear. Lie! The little voice inside told him, then Justin shifted and the pain lanced through him, reminding him of his promise.

"Please don't make me tell, Paddy," the weeping young man begged softly, the voice sounded small and pitiful even to himself.

One of those big hands moved to cup the heated flesh of Justin's posterior. He flinched, hissing.

"I guess I didn't get through to you," Choate said, as he began peeling Justin away from his body.

"Yes! Yes, you did!" Justin tightened his grip, although, in his mind, he knew there was nothing he could do if Choate decided to put him across his knee again, but Justin knew he'd do anything not to be spanked anymore. Even tell the truth! the traitorous little voice screamed. Justin took a deep breath to fortify himself, but the sound still came out in a whisper. "It was like Blair said. I did it to make you jealous. Everything. It was all to make you jealous."

Choate sat Justin up. Peering deeply into his eyes, the frown on his face had the young man so certain he'd be face down again, his eyes again filled with moisture.

"What?" Choate whispered in surprise.

Justin tried to tunnel his face back into Choate's neck. "Ever since I first saw you years ago. I've been trying to get you to notice me." he said as he wiggled uncomfortably. "This wasn't exactly what I had in mind though."

He looked deeply into the woe-filled eyes before asking, in astonishment, "To make me jealous?"

Justin could only nod.

"Jealous? Why would you want me jealous?"

The murmured response, uttered so softly, Choate had to strain to hear it, "So you would want me."

"Why?"

"Why?" Justin echoed, not knowing how to answer the question.

"You want me?"

So Justin nodded a third time.

"Why didn't you say something?"

"I don't take rejection very well."

"What makes you think I would reject you?"

Justin blinked. "You wouldn't?"

A kiss was all the answer I got. A beautiful, tender, forceful, mind-blowing kiss. When Choate released him, Justin sagged against his chest.

"Fuck me, Paddy," he whispered, looking longingly up into his face.

Choate's brow furrowed deeply and he frowned. "Excuse me?"

"Remember at the recital? It was years ago, but you hinted that we were lovers. You were so good I almost believed you. All that couldn't've been acting."

"No, I wasn't."

"Then, we both want the same thing."

Confused, Choate prompted, "And, that is?"

Justin's confidence slipped. "To fuck."

"Like what you did with Terry?"

Justin smiled impishly. "You'll be better than that, I hope."

Choate's frown deepened. "If you're looking for a quick fuck, Justin, I'm not the man."

Surprised registered on Justin's face. "You don't want to fuck me?"

"I don't like that word, Justin."

"Why not? Is it the word or the act?"

"Both."

"You're sure not a virgin, Paddy. Did I misread the signals? Is it you don't like dick?"

An indulgent, half-smile and Choate said, "I like dick just fine."

Justin sighed deeply, now feeling he knew the reason why, asked, "You just don't like mine?"

The large Marine shook his head. "How did you decide that, little boy?"

And young Evers exploded with, "I'm not a little boy, Paddy! I'm a man and I know what I want."

Amusement sparkled in Choate's eyes. "You want to 'fuck'."

"Yeah."

"Well, let me explain 'fuck' from my dictionary, little boy. Fuck is 'I'm so horny I don't care who you are, where we are, what you want or if you cum.' Fuck is no kissing, no cuddling, no foreplay. Fuck is yanking down your pants just enough, turning you around, opening my fly and ramming it in regardless of whether you're ready. Fuck is damn the lube, damn your pain, damn the blood that's bound to follow. Fuck is about my nut, your pleasure doesn't enter the equation.

"Now, I don't know, Justin, but from the way you reacted at the recital, I'd say you like romance, seduction. . .definitely foreplay. I'd say from the way your eyes glazed over when I smacked your rump, that you like a little dominance, like it just a little rough, but I know you don't like pain. If you did, you'd be rock hard by now. Am I right with that, little boy?"

Justin nodded his head.

"Good. Because I will never, ever 'fuck' you, Justin Evers." Choate kissed him gently on the forehead. "Now, go get cleaned up. Ralph's probably long gone by now. I'll call us a cab."

"I. . .I don't want to go home just now, Paddy. You go," Justin said sadly as he went into the bathroom and shut the door.

"Okay, Justin," he told the image in the wall-sized mirror. "You said you were a man and here you stand, tears in your eyes because your father's Chief Aide told you he didn't want you and you still want him more than anything."

Justin ran a sink full of cold water and began bathing the puffy flesh around his eyes.

Smoothing back the loose hairs from his face, he tucked them back into the clasp. Buttoning his shirt, he turned, lifting the shirt's tail and glanced at his butt in the mirror. Quickly releasing the cloth to cover the red and purple swollen flesh, he took a deep breath and opened the door.

Choate stood there holding his clothes. "I don't expect you feel like putting these back on." More a statement than a question.

Justin shook his head.

Choate held out his own trench coat. "Well, at least slip this on."

Just moved forward. "Why?" He asked, sliding one arm into a sleeve.

"The hotel management frown's on half naked patrons in the hall, even if they were the victim of a B&E."

Justin slid the other arm into it's sleeve and slowly turned to face Choate. "B&E?"

"I had to explain the door somehow. The manager's graciously given us another suite. He apologized that it wasn't as opulent as this one, but, hopes we'll accept it, with compliments of the hotel." He moved the door aside and waited.

Justin stood where he left him, staring in confusion. "Us?"

Choate smiled and held out his hand. "It's a pronoun."

"Us? You and me?"

"The very one."

"You're staying with me?"

"You don't want me to?"

"I was under the impression you didn't want to."

"I'll show you when we get to room 1217." Belting coat tightly, pulling Justin into the hall, elevator, down to 12, down the hall, into the room, locked the door.

The Marine slid the coat off Justin's shoulders and threw it into a chair.

"You said you didn't want me."

Choate unbuttoned the cuffs of his shirt, sliding off the suitcoat. "I said I wouldn't fuck you, Justin," he said, taking a step forward until he stood directly in front of the young man. "But I will make love to you so completely you will never mistake the two again."

"Love?"

"Amor. Sí, dulce."

"You said that meant sweet? You think I'm sweet?" Justin's heart slowed.

Choate smiled. "Let me see." He kissed the center of Justin's forehead, between his eyes. "Yes." Then took Justin's face in his hands and tilted it slightly so he could brush his lips lightly across Justin's. "Yes." He pressed his lips against Justin's. "Better." Then licked them lightly.

Justin stood, transfixed, not daring to open them, wanting more than anything to. Then he felt Choate's fingers tight against his jaw hinge, pressing until his mouth opened slightly. And he sealed their lips, his tongue invading the inside of Justin's mouth. He felt his very essence being drawn from him until he was weak.

When Choate released him, Justin moved back and nearly fell. Choate reached out and caught him, sweeping him easily into his arms and into the bedroom.

He set Justin gently on the bed.

"Sssst, owww, Paddy."

"Sorry," Choate whispered as he pulled him to his feet. "We have to be more careful, don't we?" he asked as he began divesting Justin of his clothing. "And you have such a lovely ass," lightly smoothing his hands over the mounds, barely touching. "They fit so perfectly in my hands." Choate moved his hands slowly up Justin's back until they tangled in his hair. "But what I truly love is this," he said, flexing his fingers in the mass. "It is your glory. Such a shame to imprison it." Skilled fingers found the clasp to the band and it fell with a muffled thud into the carpet beneath them. Then Choate began working at the tight braid until Justin's hair fell in a waterfall around his shoulders and down his back. "I want to wrap myself in this, like a blanket." Taking Justin by the scruff of his neck, he pulled him up sharply, off his feet until he could take his mouth in a kiss.

Justin's arms flailed for balance at the abruptness of Choate's move, then found purchase on his shoulder. The Marine's tongue stroked the inside of the smaller man's hot mouth, finding his tongue, mating with it, wrestling for dominance. Justin leaned in to the strong muscles of Choate's upper body and capitulated.

"When you make love, dulce," Choate said when he took his mouth away, "you care enough to find out what your partner likes." He supported Justin's weight with his body as he stripped his own clothing away.

"I like everything, Paddy," Justin said clinging to that body anxiously.

"Greedy imp! I'm sure you do, but what do you like more? Soft butterfly kisses?" Finally, naked flesh on naked flesh, Choate placed several on Justin's face, along his jawline and neck. "Or, would you prefer long, open-mouthed, lingering, soul-stealing kisses like this?" He demonstrated until he felt Justin sag against him. He released him.

Justin only had enough breath left to say, "I--"

"And are your ears sensitive? The lobe?" He took the right one into his mouth and sucked on the stud he found there.

Justin shuddered.

"Or," Choate whispered directly into the ear, "Do you prefer the inner ear stimulated." He traced the whorl with the tip of his tongue, dipping briefly into the canal.

"Not so much, ears. Neck?" He nuzzled at the flesh directly under the ear and followed the path the blood took down the jugular.

Justin shuddered again and moaned. Choate found the site that caused the moan and sucked hard.

Justin gasped and the Marine had to brace him with an arm around the small of his back.

By the time he released the young man, he was whimpering.

"Yes, the neck. And the nipples?" Choate leaned Justin back over his arm as he touched his tongue to the left nipple.

It contracted to a tense point immediately and Justin sagged further. Choate took it into his mouth and Justin purred.

By the time the older man moved on to the right nipple, Justin had to brace himself with his hands on Choate's forearms.

"You like that?"

Justin's erection pressed into Choate's thigh and had begun to weep. The younger man pressed forward. "Paddy, please."

"More?"

"Inside me."

Choate gently took Justin's ass into his hands.

"Owww, shit, Paddy!"

Choate kissed him hard, "I'm afraid inside'll have to wait until next time, dulce. But we can do other things." And Justin felt himself falling.

He landed on top of Choate on the bed.

Justin found the aide's body was as hard as it looked. Choate opened his legs and Justin sank between his thighs, their erections moving against each other. Choate moved his hips and caused friction. Pressing gently down on the small of Justin's back while pushing up against him.

"Feel me, dulce?"

"Yesss," Justin hissed, moving his own hips in counter rhythm, pressing down to increase the pressure.

"What do you feel? You feel this?" He pressed upwards again. "You feel this?" He moved his hands lightly over the mounds of Justin's butt, barely touching, over the small of his back, all the time moving his hips in counter rhythm to the movement Justin made.

Young Evers had started making a sound deep in his throat, it slowly grew in intensity as his movements became more powerful, more frenzied. And Justin's breath started coming in labored puffs.

"Paddy, ummm."

"Ummm? Is that a word?"

"That feels so good."

"This? Or this? Or this?"

All the Councilor's Aide did was simple pressure, friction and manipulation. Movement Justin had experienced countless times before, and not really cared for. With many partners both male and female. It smacked of simple masturbation. Something he could just as easily accomplish alone with a pillow against any hard surface. But this man made it different, better, magical somehow. Now, it was no longer just friction, it was. . .sweat-slick, heated flesh gliding over hot, pulsating muscle. There was rhythm, there was music, there was passion!

There was love--

Choate placed tiny kisses down Justin's jawline, down his neck to tease at the juncture of his neck and shoulder. With a tiny corner of his mind still functioning, Justin realized Choate had picked up the pace.

The Marine added a rocking, undulating motion to his thrust. . .and Justin was lost.

The young Evers felt his climax begin at his scalp and the soles of his feet when in the past it had always started in his groin.

All orgasms with previous partners had been a burst of electricity coming and going in one moment of completion leaving him feeling vaguely short-changed. This one began with the heat of a fire storm, traversing his body in a trail of molten lava. Tracking from the north and south of his body, it raced insanely towards his center.

Justin's power of speech deserted him, reducing him to a precivilized growl, and animalistic thrum.

He dug his fingers into Choate's shoulders and held on for his life as the magma in his veins tore savagely towards the only opening available to it.

"Paddy!" Justin drew a deep breath, trying vainly to form another word. "Oh!"

Choate had been listening to the sounds his lover made. Beautiful sounds. Bewitching sounds. Sounds he wanted to hear again and again and again for the rest of his life.

When he felt the bruising grip of Justin's fingers, heard the change in pitch of his purring growl, instinctively, he knew his lover was close to the edge.

Relaxing into the sensation of Justin's body, Choate began to move faster, adding a roll to his thrust.

Then, Justin called his name. Just a soft, breathless whisper against his chest, but the heat of that softly-spoken word ignited the fuse of his climax and sent it rocketing through him.

One last thrust as he pulled Justin tighter to his body and they came together with the force of an erupting nebula, in a flash that seemed to light the room.

Justin shouting his lover's name in a strangled moan, Choate weeping with the joy of love fulfilled, quietly within his heart.

~~~~~~

Justin came slowly awake. His senses telling him he wasn't in his own bed and that he was alone. Turning over on his back the previous evening's activity came back to him in a rush of clarity as his bottom contacted the mattress.

"Shit! Damn! Hell!" he yelled as he launched himself off the bed. Dancing a few feet around the room, Justin tried to sooth the ache from his ass with his hands.

"Damn, damn, damn, that hurts, Paddy!" he said aloud as he finally danced to a halt. The rubbing only made it worse. Then he looked around. Choate's clothes were gone. Starting to sit on the side of the bed, he remembered just in time to straighten. "He left me?" he muttered unhappily, then spied a small package resting on the pillow. Crawling up the bed, he stopped, resting on his knees and began opening it.

The first thing was a short note from Paddy.

Dulce -

Didn't leave you. Tried to wake you to have breakfast, but you growled at me. (Not a morning person? We'll work on that.) I decided to let you sleep.

Had to go with your father. It couldn't be helped. Ralph is standing by for your call to take you home.

An icepack will help.

See you later this evening. We'll talk.

P-

Justin folded the note. He took out the other item in the package, a small, leather-bound book with a note in Choate's hand taped to the front. Peeling it away, Justin opened and read it. It said only: 'Turn to page 33.'

Turning to the specified page, Justin found a poem:

Sonnets from the Portuguese XLIII
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.
I love thee to the level of everyday's
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.
I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;
I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.
I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints--I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life!--and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.

Young Evers smiled. "I never would've pegged you for a romantic, Patrick Choate," he whispered as he reverently lay the book on the nightstand and walked to the bathroom to take a shower. "Maybe there's something to this 'love' thing afterall."