The Guide Series by Lisa, Duncan's Twin

The Guide Series - Lisa, Duncan’s Twin

The Guide by James Ellison

I knew from the moment he walked into that hospital room that he would play an important role in my life. What I didn’t know was that he would become the center of my universe.

The ratty tennis shoes were only the first clue that he wasn’t who he said he was. It was his voice and his eyes that held my attention though, and as long as he didn’t stop looking at me or talking to me, I would’ve listened to anything he had to say. When he said he knew someone who could help me, I hoped he meant himself, but anybody, anything that would have helped, would have been welcome.

It was him. The beautiful hair, mesmerizing eyes, teasing lips, great ass...yeah, it was him. And I did want to shove him up against the wall, not to threaten, but to take, possess, fuck. He pushed buttons in me that I didn’t know I had. Something in him called to me, and I couldn’t refuse it. Didn’t want to.

After he saved my life, I would have given him anything, and I guess I did. I gave him free rein. I needed help and he was it. It didn’t hurt that he was easy on the eyes. In fact, he was easy on all my senses. He soothed me in a way nothing else did.

After smelling the roses and lying about what I’d overheard, (can you blame me?) I took him to lunch. That was when I realized how smart he really was, and not just book smart. His sense of humor was compelling, and his laughter was full and rich. He made my head spin and sent my common sense right out the door. I just came right out and asked him if he was bisexual, and that stopped him in midsentence. He only hesitated for a second before he said he was and then threw the question back at me. I was caught, and glad for it. I said I was, and then before my courage could slink away, I told him I was attracted to him. Understanding what I meant, he stood, paid the bill and waited for me to catch up.

His place was closest, and we made it there in record time. A warehouse of all things. That was the only thing I noticed before I lost my mind to his mouth on my bare skin. The thing I remember most about that afternoon is the way he screamed when I made him come, and the way it reverberated in the large space. I carried that sound with me for days, relishing it.

He became an addiction, a need that couldn’t be filled. I couldn’t get enough of him. We took each other at the loft, in his office, in both of our cars (which was a feat in and of itself). I learned what made him crazy and what made him insane. He drove me to the brink of madness and then pulled me back, releasing me from myself. I’d never known that kind of freedom before and didn’t want to lose it, but I feared I would.

We had never spoken of love or even feelings deeper than friendship, and I refused to be the one who broke the spell around us, so it was all left unsaid. But it was there. I felt it even if he didn’t. I wanted more, knew I could give more, if only he would ask for it, but he didn’t.

Things came to a head, pardon the pun, when his warehouse blew up. He needed a place to stay, and looking into those sapphire blue eyes, I couldn’t say no. I had to say no to something else instead. We couldn’t live together, be partners at work and in his research, and also be lovers, there were too many variables. Our lives were already so complicated. It just seemed like the right thing to do, even though it hurt like hell. Blair took it in stride, he understood, and life when on. I tell you, the first night was the hardest, knowing he was there, remembering how he tasted, how he sounded. It took all my willpower not to walk down those stairs and take him again and again. But I couldn’t. I was the one who made the rule, I had to keep it.

The second hardest night was when I rescued him from Lash. That was the night I thought I was going to lose him forever; it was also the night that I realized I was in love with Blair. I was holding him, cradling him in my arms as he slept off the drugs in his system, and it hit me right between the eyes. How could I have been so blind?

He recovered, I recovered, and we went on. I never said a word to him about my epiphany. I kept it tight inside my heart and hoped that one day I would be able to tell him. There were so many times when I could have, probably should have, but his work, his dissertation was always between us.

I remember the night I realized he wasn’t working on it anymore. He said that if he finished it, we wouldn’t be able to work together anymore, and that was the last thing he wanted. I think it was then that I realized that he loved me too. Why I didn’t pull over and take him in my arms, I don’t know. I just knew that it wasn’t time yet.

The time came in the hospital after Blair nearly died. Did die. I got him back, and I wasn’t gonna let him go again. I told him I loved him and that I would never leave him. Except he was unconscious at the time. I vowed to do whatever it took to get that damned dissertation out from between us, so that we could be together. I only hoped that he still loved me, wanted me, when all was said and done.

I don’t know when it was that Blair realized I was pushing him to finish the diss, but one day he called me on it. Just flat out asked me why I was pushing so hard. He even asked me if I wanted him out of my life. I ached to tell him the real reason, but settled for half truths. I told him that I didn’t want it between us anymore, and that no, I didn’t want him out of my life. That silenced him, and I knew he wanted to question me further, but I didn’t give him the chance. There would be time for questions and answers later.

I rarely underestimate people, but Naomi Sandburg never fails to surprise and shock the hell out of me. “The Sentinel.” I saw it on the headline of the Cascade Times. She had good intentions, I understand where Blair got his from, but his brains and common sense must have come from his father. My life--our life was in turmoil. As much as I hated that the whole world knew who and what I was, I was glad the diss was done. Blair repeatedly apologized and tried to make it up to me, but I was more worried about him and how this would affect us. I think he knew that, and that’s why he made the decision he made.

He told the world that he was a fraud, that it was all a lie. He lost his career, his doctorate and his reputation, but he didn’t lose me. He could never lose me. I stood beside him through all the hardships and heartaches, and I held his hand when he needed my strength. And after it was all over, and we were alone, I held him while he cried for everything that was lost to him. Everything he lost because of me. Because I am his Sentinel. His Sentinel. His.

That brings us up to date. Blair’s asleep in my arms here on the couch. I’ve been holding him since he fell asleep a few hours ago. I can’t seem to let him go. When he wakes up, I’m gonna tell him that I love him. No more hiding. I want to be with Blair Sandburg for the rest of my life, and then some.

I feel him move, shifting in my arms. His head lifts and his enormous blue eyes lock with mine. It’s time.


The Cop Guide by Blair Sandburg

So you want to hear my side of the story now? Good, cause I really want to tell it.

Sneaking into that hospital room was the best, and worst, mistake of my life. Best because he was everything I ever wanted; he was a Sentinel, he was buff and beautiful, and I drowned in his sky blue eyes. I wanted him, mind and body. Worst because I knew it could never work out; either I would get my doctorate or I’d get him, and I wanted both. I jumped in, tennis shoe clad feet first, and never looked back.

When he asked me over lunch if I was bisexual, I knew I had him. He was interested and I jumped again. I’ll never forget the way he touched me that first day, the way his hands memorized my body. I came so hard, I think part of my brain was lost in the ejaculate. That’s the only way I can explain why I let it continue. He was my research subject, and it wasn’t Sentinel sex patterns I was studying; although after one particular night when he made me come four times, I almost did change my topic!

But I digress.

Moving in with him put an end to our sexual escapades. I didn’t fight it because I knew it was the right thing, only I didn’t have the strength to end it myself. We could have kept on the way we were, and maybe everything would have worked out, but it also could have screwed things up even worse. And things were okay. We caught the bad guys (mostly); we went on trips together; worked side by side. We became friends, best friends. Hell, Jim became my family. Maybe a distant cousin, because of how ‘close’ we had been.

Anyway, one of the hardest things I did over the last three years was watch Jim get hurt by all those women. And there were more than a few. I admit, I had more than a few, but I never let them get close enough to me to hurt me. He let each of them in, inside his heart and head, and they screwed him, both literally and figuratively. If I’d been any other type of man, I would’ve hunted them down and killed them. In some cases, I didn’t have to. It’s harsh to say, but I don’t fucking care.

It was a Thursday when I cornered Jim about my dissertation. It was like putting the pieces of a puzzle together, everything finally clicked, all the prodding and questioning. I realized that he wanted it finished. I just didn’t know why. When he said it, actually voiced the fact that he wanted it finished, I almost couldn’t get my next question out, but I had to know. I felt so relieved when he said he didn’t want me out, I almost hugged him.

So I finished it. Well, finished the first draft, and the rest, as they say, is history. Let’s just suffice it to say that all hell broke loose and only by the skin of our teeth did any of us survive.

But back to Jim and me. Bet you wondered when I’d get back to that! The morning after the shootings at the police station, I woke up in Jim’s arms on the couch. He was looking at me with such love in his eyes, and then he whispered that he loved me. You probably think I melted in his arms, and we made love all afternoon, but you’d be wrong. How dare he tell me that after everything that had happened! I just gave up my career, my life essentially, and here he was making that declaration, thinking that it was gonna make up for what I’d lost. Jim Ellison loves me. Big fucking deal. He sure didn't act like it earlier when he'd been so certain that I'd betrayed him--again! It was like with one side of his mouth he was saying ‘I love you’, and with the other, he was saying he didn’t even know who I was. Kind of like getting stabbed in the back while someone is hugging you.

I rode that wave of anger, never stopping once to let anything sink in, until I had to clean out my office at the university. Everything I had worked so hard for since I was sixteen was gone. Sure, I had my degrees, my wallpaper, but I no longer had a reputation in my career field. Well, not a positive one anyway. I would never teach again at this university, would never be called Professor Sandburg, never head an expedition to Borneo. On the plus side, I would never grade another paper, proctor another exam or give a lecture to a room full of sleeping freshmen. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

I headed to the station house afterwards, why drag out the torture? I walked through the break room where I had taken out my first bad guy, where Jim had overlooked procedure to protect me, where we had had lunch so many times and laughed and planned camping trips. I remembered every time I signed Jim’s name to a form and the first time I truly felt accepted by these men and women. I was standing in Simon’s office remembering the first time he took my advice about something, when Joel interrupted my reminiscing.

Me, a cop? Okay. The academy? Sure, I can do that. Firearms training? I don’t know about that one, but I’ll do it if they think I can. Hell, even my mom is okay with this. I can do this. Officer Sandburg has a nice ring to it; Detective Sandburg sounds even better.

I’d like to tell you that everything worked out and we all lived happily ever after, but I live in the real world, and it’s never that easy. Naomi disappeared the next morning without a word, just a note saying that she’d call. Simon and Megan returned to work part time, declaring loudly to anyone who’d listen that they were ready for full time duty, but Joel made sure they took it easy. Rafe and Henry took on extra work to make up for it and complained the entire time until Megan promised to never wear her pink dingo coat again. (I think I need to test her hearing.) And Jim? Jim returned to the streets alone while I went to the academy.

And us? We continued to live together, why wouldn’t we? He still asked my opinions about cases, and I still gave him my advice about his senses. But it was different. I was no longer the researcher, and he was no longer the subject. We were two friends helping each other with things we couldn’t do on our own. Friends who were in love with each other. Bet you thought I forgot about that, but how could I? His whispered words were with me every minute of the day, along with the memories of when we had been lovers.

You’re asking yourself why I didn’t say anything to him, aren’t you? Maybe it was revenge. Maybe it was justice. Maybe because carrying our love got me through all the shit I went through during the six weeks of the academy. Maybe I’m just a sadistic little bastard. Whatever.

Quit your pushing, I’ll tell you what happened.

After graduation, Jim threw me a little party at our favorite restaurant, just the Major Crimes crew and my mom. Having her showing up was a surprise, but Jim pulled it off. Never doubt the abilities or loyalties of a Sentinel, of a friend. There was something in the air that night, maybe cause I was finally one of them. I was no longer an observer, I was a brother, I was a fellow cop, and I could shoot the cap off a bottle of beer at fifty feet without breaking the bottle or spilling a drop. Okay, that was the beer talking, but what happened next was truly me.

I pulled Jim aside, ostensibly to thank him for the party, but I’d decided that it was time to tell him that I loved him too. He took it like a man; he swept me up in his arms and kissed me. Right there in front of the everyone, including my mother; and they all cheered.

Somehow we managed to get untangled (how did my hand get on his ass?) without making complete fools of ourselves. There was a round of handshakes and well wishes as Jim shepherded me out the door. I’m sure my face must have hit the spectrum of shades of red, but I didn’t care. Jim was taking me home. Taking me. Home.


The Concupiscent Guide Revealed by The Sentinel

Concupiscent: sexual; desirable; lusty; sensual

He finally said it. Blair finally told me that he loves me. Blair loves me; and I kissed him in front of all our friends and his mother. What the hell, they all knew that I loved him anyway.

He’s practically dragging me out of his graduation party, looking at me like I’m gonna be the main course for the next week, not that that’s a bad thing. Maybe if I could feel something besides his hand in mine, I’d help.

Oh shit! He just slammed me up against the truck, and now he’s kissing me like a starved man. Wait a minute, I’m starving too.

He tastes like beer and strawberries, but under that he still tastes like my Blair. His whole body is pressed against me, and if didn’t already know what he felt like, I might have passed out. He’s grinding his hard cock against mine, and the material between us is driving me insane. I need more. More—him.

How does he do that? How does he read my mind? Jesus, he’s unzipping my pants. I have to, oh god, think, stop him. No, slow him down. I so don’t want to pass out here in the parking lot with my dick down his throat.

I push him back gently, shove my hand in my pocket, thankful of the extra room, and fumble with the keys. His lips are parted and I can hear him breathing--he’s raring to go and I can only hope I survive. Do I really want to survive his passion? Stupid question.

I finally manage to get the door open, and he’s shoving me inside. I like this strong, confident new Blair. He makes me want to devour him whole. I think I heard the door slam, but the next thing I know, his hands are back in my pants, teasing my overheated skin as he slides them down only as far as necessary.

His mouth is a volcano; this is what hell must feel like, except I know I’m in heaven. His tongue is everywhere, tasting, teasing; he’s got one hand wrapped around my throbbing erection, pumping me without mercy, enticing me towards the edge of oblivion. It’s a trip I can’t wait to take.

Cool air hits my hot swollen flesh, and I look down to see him blowing on my cock. He smiles wolfishly and then he’s swallowing me. His hands are under my ass, and he’s making me fuck his mouth, encouraging me, until my brain can wrap around the idea. My body takes over and my hands are in his hair, in that beautiful, silky mane, and I’m pumping in and out of that incredible mouth. It’s so good, I couldn’t stop if he begged me. His hands are squeezing my ass, and he’s swallowing around me and I’m coming, I’m screaming, I’m dying.

I must have passed out, because when I come to, he’s driving and my head is resting on his lap. I sit up slowly, feeling almost hung over, definitely groggy. One look at him and the fog lifts; his lips are swollen and red, his skin is flushed, and his cock is about to split the seam of his jeans. I reach for him, but he takes my hand, heading off my intended destination. His will power must be stretched to the limit.

We wait for the elevator, cause I know he can’t make it up the stairs in that condition. He’s standing a good distance away from me, like he knows that he won’t be able to stop once he starts, and I’m starting to shake, imagining the rest of the night. I know he notices the tremors, but he doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t have to, he’s starting to tremble also. It’s been so long since we’ve been together, and the anticipation might just kill us before we can get naked and inside each other.

The keys jingle in his hand as he unlocks the door and goes in. I follow, unable to take my eyes off him as he heads towards the stairs. He stops at the bottom and looks at me.

“Hurry.” One simple word and I’m right behind him.

We stand a foot apart, eyeing each other, appraising each other. He kicks off his shoes, and I repeat the gesture. Smiling, he tears off his shirts; I imitate the action and up the ante--I open my jeans. Arching his eyebrows, he jerks open his own, each button slipping free soundlessly, and shoves them down; he went commando, and now he’s beautifully, gloriously naked and erect in front of me. My heart pounds so loudly that I think he can hear it. He stretches out on the bed as I dispense with my own jeans and socks. I lie beside him, not touching yet, just looking.

He’s... words can’t do justice to describe him, beautiful doesn’t even come close. He makes me... feel. I don’t have words for this.

He looks at me with those all-knowing eyes and speaks softly.


His voice is quiet, soothing, and I listen to his body. I hear the blood rushing through his veins, his heart pounding like it does when he is aroused. I hear the hairs on his legs as they rub together. I hear him swallow, and it draws my attention back to his lips.


I watch his tongue slowly trace his lips, wetting them to ease the dryness. His eyes are dilated. They are almost black when they look at me, see me. I feel like they could devour me with their hunger. My eyes travel down, watching his heartbeat at his neck, his wrist, his groin. His cock hardens further under my eyes, and I smile in anticipation.


My nostrils flare as I take him in. His arousal is a drug to me; I can’t live without it. I continue to inhale as long as my lungs will allow me, until he is the only thing inside me. I can smell other things too, his shampoo, what he had for lunch, the underlying smell that is his signature. He smells of sex and heat and desire, and it sings though my body as an answer to all my questions.


I softly touch his burning skin, trailing a single finger from his head to his toes, avoiding the hottest spots, saving those for last. His cheek is rough with stubble, but his soft lips sooth my finger. His chest hair is silky, and my finger glides through it as I seek the hardened nubs, first one and then the other, but only with the lightest of touches. I am a musician and he is my instrument. I follow the natural trail down his chest, avoiding the temptation of his navel, and head further south to the hottest, hardest, silkiest skin on his body. I can’t touch him with only a finger, my whole hand aches to feel him. His dick throbs in my hand, building a corresponding tempo in my own body. I reluctantly release his erection to cradle his heavy balls in my hand. They are the softest satin, and I gently squeeze them, eager for this game to move on.


A reward for my patience. I move between his legs as he parts them for me. With one hand cupping his balls, the other wraps around his shaft, and I finally take the head into my mouth. His flavor hits me hard, singing though my veins, and I take him deeper inside. My tongue does a dance across his slit, and fresh arousal explodes in my mouth; he is close and I am the one that will take him all the way. I release his balls, and slip a finger into my mouth. I hear a tiny sigh as he anticipates my actions. Never one to disappoint, the slick finger lightly touches his spasming hole. I don’t enter, won’t until he spills his precious juice, but I softly massage it, pushing ever so gently against it, teasing him with a promise.

I see his head fall back, hear his increased heartbeat, smell his arousal renew, feel his cock swell, and I taste his come as he pulses in my mouth.

I wait for him to open his eyes, to invite me further into him. In anticipation, I move to get the lube from the drawer and return to my space between his legs, careful not to jostle him from his pleasure induced euphoria. His eyes open, and I am drowning.


Is what I want, what he wants? Is that how he always knows? I’ll think about that later, right now he’s mine.

Lethargy has set into his bones, and he is pliant in my arms. My fingers, slicked with lube, slide easily inside him, opening his passage to accept my burning erection. His moans are the only encouragement I need. I spread the cool lube over my swollen flesh, taking care not to touch myself too firmly. Lifting his legs over my shoulders, I pause at his entrance, waiting for the one word I need to continue.


And I am inside him, part of him. I pause, letting both of our bodies remember this, and then I thrust, angling to brush his pleasure spot, making him howl in response. I feel his passage tighten around me, caressing me with its velvet walls, and I know this union can’t last. He is burning and I am melting. I see his dick rising, invigorated by the constant massage against his prostate. His eyes are clenched tightly shut, concentrating on our pleasure. I know he wants it, and I want to give it to him. I slam into him one final time, banging into his prostate with all my strength, and grasping his turgid erection tightly in my hand. I stroke him firmly, almost roughly, dragging him to the completion we both need and want. Then I feel it, his come on my fist and stomach, the muscles clenching furiously around my cock, and I shudder and release my seed deep inside him, finding my pleasure in his release.


I wake up by degrees, hearing, sensing Blair moving around the loft. I smell the vanilla candles, their soft scent hanging in the air. I feel his weight back on the bed beside me and open my eyes. Handing me a glass of water, his fingers brush mine. He smiles broadly and it’s infectious. I can barely drink the water because I’m smiling so widely. I set the glass down, preferring a bed wet with bodily fluid rather than plain water, and his eyes grow serious, darker, more intense. He speaks softly.


Just the one word, and I know what he is asking of me. He’s asking me to join him, to share with him, to take him, to make love to him again. The word makes my mouth water because it knows what he tastes like after he has already been loved once before. I know how the sweat that has dried on his neck will taste when I lick and nibble at it, how the dried semen on his stomach will taste as my tongue samples him. I know what my own come will taste like when I kiss him. I can slip my fingers inside him easily, feeling my own semen easing the way. I smell the way he wants me and my own reaction to him. I see his fingers, light upon his own nipples, made tender by our previous loving. I take him in, one sense at a time and know that there is nothing in this world that I will not do to or for him.


It’s barely a whisper, but I have heard it. He can wait no longer for my touch; he has felt my eyes caress him, and now he wants my fingers and tongue to return to his body, to travel the path of most pleasure. My tongue leaves a wet path down the broad expanse of his chest, into the shallow depression at his navel, over his rising erection and down between his legs where his sweetest spot tries to hide from me. His body is mine, and I have tasted every inch of his skin. I know where to kiss him to drive him crazy, and I know where to lick him to drive him insane. He is a continent that I have discovered, mapped out and now own. He is mine, his pleasure is mine, and nothing can stop me from tasting the sweet nectar that is Blair.


He is barely clinging to his sanity. I hold him right on the edge of pleasure, not withholding it, just delaying it, for my own pleasure. I could make him come a dozen times a day, and each time would be different. Perhaps he would moan the first time, and then gasp the second. With him, I never know what to expect, except complete submission to me and the pleasure we create. He’s allowing me to control this night, control our lovemaking because he knows that it brings me pleasure to make him moan and gasp and writhe.


It’s the softest sigh, more breath than actual word, and it releases both of us. He’s sobbing as he spills his ejaculate over my fist. I continue to pump him gently, pulling every ounce of pleasure and semen from him. The hot liquid drops into his pubic hair, its creamy color clinging to the wiry tendrils. His body trembles, and the after quakes roll through him. His eyes remain shut until he can focus further than the moment. When they finally open, the blue is nearly nonexistent as he watches me slowly lick his essence from my hand.

He growls and throws his arms around me, squeezing me tightly against him. His whole body is trembling in my arms and it scares me, until I hear his fervent prayers.

“Love me, love me, love me, love me.”

And then it scares me more. He’s chanting it, and I know he doesn’t mean literally. I’ve loved him until I can’t even remember my name, and there’s no trace of erection left in either of us. He needs reassurance, and nothing can stop me from giving it.

“I do, I do. I always will,” I murmur into his hair, and his trembling stops. “Look at me.”

His eyes, wide and sparkling with unshed tears, meet mine; my own sting, but I blink it away.

“I love you, Blair. I will love you until the day I die,” I vow.

He clings even tighter to me, no longer trembling, but needing me to be close nonetheless. His need becomes my own, and I cling right back. We hold each other against the world outside and everything that kept us apart for more than three years, until eventually, fall into a peaceful sleep.


The sun is starting to rise when I wake with Blair still asleep in my arms. Or am I awake in his arms? It doesn’t matter, we’re together. Blair shifts, and our morning erections slide together. My shuddering is probably what wakes him. His exquisite baby blues open, and he smiles and rubs against me, sending delicious shivers down my spine. Using his sinewy strength, Blair flips me onto my back and hovers above me, his faces inches from my own.

“Show me,” I beg.

Laughing, he kisses my throat, his teeth nipping lightly at the tender flesh, and I can’t help but arch into his touch. His fingers have a life all their own, stroking me everywhere, leaving no space untouched. One nipple is tortured by his teeth, while the other is pinched wickedly. I hear moans and don’t know, don’t care, if they’re coming from me or him. I just want him to keep touching me.

My belly button must be an oasis, because he spends a lot of time laving attention on it, constantly dipping his tongue into its depths and circling the outside. I lift my hips, encouraging him to venture lower, silently begging again. He doesn’t leave me hanging long. His strong fist wraps around my dick and strokes slowly, once, twice, and I can’t help myself.


Wet heat envelops me, and my hips buck against him, trying to go deeper, but firm hands hold me in place as he devours me. His tongue circles the head, spiraling my desire higher with every sweep. My head thrashes back and forth as he sucks me hard, stroking firmly, pulling my orgasm closer and closer, but then he backs off, letting my erection slip from his mouth. He moves further down, his nose nudging my balls out of the way as he seeks the smooth skin behind them.


His hot tongue bathes the area. Then I feel a stream of air hit, and my body clenches tightly. Sweet Lord in heaven, he’s going to kill me. His tongue, it’s... oh god... it’s pushing against my hole. He’s never done this to me before. I can’t think, I can’t... oh jeez, he’s fucking me with his tongue. I hear myself praying, hoping he won’t stop. This is the most erotic thing I have ever... his fingers are in me... oh god, oh god.


I don’t know where he got the lube from, I don’t care. I just wish he’d hurry and fuck me. I think he’s got two in there, oh jeez, he’s twisting them. My... I forgot how this felt... my body is bucking against his fingers, encouraging him to fuck me with them. I have no shame, and I don’t give a damn. I need him, need him now. It’s the only thing that will complete me.


He’s there, I can feel his hard cock pushing at my hole--oh please, yes!--and I try to move to impale myself but he won’t let me. I open my eyes, frantic that he’s gonna stop. He smiles then, a smile reserved only for me, and it calms me, it makes me focus on him.

“I love you, Jim.”

And he’s inside me, searing me, loving me into oblivion. I can’t think, my senses are all over the place, but not out of control. Maybe for the first time they’re exactly the way they should be. He is my Guide after all, and he’s the only one I can let the barriers down with. Every sense is filled with him—I smell our sex, the semen, the lube, the lust; I can still taste him from last night, and with one quick swipe of my tongue against his neck, it all comes back to me; I can hear his moans, my moans and the way our flesh is slapping together; I can see our bodies joined, see him moving in and out of me, his hand stroking my cock in time with his thrusts; I feel... oh, god yes, I feel. He’s thrusting harder, hitting my prostate, hurtling both of us right up to the edge, and then over. I’m coming, exploding in his hand and across my stomach, and I can feel him flooding me with his white hot cream. Nothing has ever felt this good.

He collapses on top of me, and I gladly bear his weight. We’re gonna be stuck together later, but I don’t care. I need this. I’ve never felt so alive, like I’m breathing for the first time, seeing amazing new colors. I can’t even describe it; I just know that I’ll never let him go again. I couldn’t survive it this time, if we were separated.

He shifts in my arms, and I turn us so we can get some rest; we have a lot of time to make up for. I listen to the world going on around us, but he is the only thing I am truly aware of. We are part of the same soul, two equal halves dancing in time. He fills me--heart, soul and senses-- completely, effortlessly, with his spirit and light and goodness. Sentinel and Guide, bound for all eternity, through time and space, always seeking, always finding. Destiny may sometimes get delayed, but it can never be denied.

The end.

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Acknowledgements: Many thanks to Diana who originally betaed the three stories that make up this series. And additional thanks to Kelly for a "fresh pair of eyes" beta. Thanks to Patt for art, and pushing and shoving. :)