Dallas, Texas - September, 1997

Sipping his scotch and soda at the airport bar, James Ellison watched his fellow travelers scurry to their appointed gates. His attention wandered from person to person, appraising and dismissing them in an uninterested but curious way. He was thirty-five with a failed marriage, a long string of ex-girlfriends and an even longer list of ex-boyfriends. No, Jim wasn't lucky in love or relationships, and even his career was questionable; he'd been shuffled from one place to another four times in the last dozen years. Sometimes, Jim thought as he watched a couple sit at a nearby table, it's enough to make me want to retire and give up dating and fucking.

He took another sip of his drink and reconsidered. Okay, maybe not the fucking part. Fucking was definitely one of the things at which Jim excelled. He never left a partner hanging, making sure both of them came, sometimes multiple times. It didn't matter if it was a long term partner or a one night stand, Jim was a courteous and inventive partner. Never had any complaints, thank you very much.

Besides, there was something to be said for having sex with someone you knew you'd never see again; someone you could ask to do all those nasty, kinky things that a steady partner might balk at. Someone who wouldn't slap your face, call you a pervert and run crying into the bathroom just because you asked her to slide a finger or two up your ass while she blows you. Asking for things like that get you slapped with more than an open palm; it doubled the alimony Carolyn asked for just to keep the details out of the newspapers.

With a scowl, Jim finished his drink, dropped a few dollars on the bar and headed to his gate, looking as he went. If a possibility sauntered by, Jim wouldn't hesitate to make a pass and hope it was well received.

***

As the final boarding call sounded, Blair Sandburg broke into a run, waving his ticket at the gate attendant. She frowned at him, but once she got a look at his name on the ticket, she smiled flirtatiously at him and wished him a safe trip. With a wave to her, he boarded the plane.

It didn't matter where he went, Blair was recognized. He'd even arrived extra early to the airport this afternoon, in case, and sure enough, the agent at the ticket counter had recognized him. She had bumped him up to first class, where, she said, he should have been riding in the first place. His natural charm and warmth drew people to him, made them feel like he was a friend.

At security, he'd been recognized again, and under the pretext of searching his bags, Blair was asked to sign a few autographs. He didn't mind in the least, although, he was glad his dirty underwear were in his checked luggage. In fact, he enjoyed the attention, taking extra time when a kid would approach him. The embarrassment usually happened when overzealous female fans made subtle and not so subtle overtures to entice him into their beds; he had been mostly celibate since his sudden rise to stardom three years previous, never really sure if the attention was because of himself or his fame.

Four years ago, he'd been a doctoral candidate at Rainier, drowning in a dissertation that was going nowhere. Somewhere along the line, he'd lost his focus and interest in his subject, unable to find proof to support his theories about the existence of Sentinels. To take his mind off his troubles, he'd taken to playing baseball with some of the guys on the Rainier team. He'd been spotted accidentally by a scout and within a month, Blair was playing in the minor leagues on a team out of Tacoma; two months later he was playing shortstop for the Cascade Timberwolves.

Blair knew it wouldn't always be like this, playing a game he loved and getting paid handsomely for it. As easily as it had come to him, Blair knew the fame and money could be gone in the blink of an eye, and he'd be back trying to finish his dissertation and trying to make ends meet. That awareness made him careful with the money he was making, knowing he'd need it one day when his luck ran out.

Boarding the plane, Blair found and settled himself into his seat. The flight attendant looked at him familiarly and as she walked over, there was something extra in her step.

"Can I get you anything?" Her voice was honey coated and her smile bright.

Smiling at her, Blair answered, "A coke, please."

She nodded and sashayed away; there were definite perks to being recognized.

Waiting for his drink, Blair took a moment to look around and at his seatmate.

Yowzah! Blair thought, swallowing hard. The hunk seated next to him practically overflowed his luxury seat. He was wearing a suit that looked like it had been sculpted to fit his body, highlighting the perfection, hiding, if there were any, flaws. Taking in the wide shoulders, firm chest, flat stomach, narrow hips, strong thighs, Blair shifted in his seat, his cock twitching interestedly, and took a deep breath.

Man, I need to get laid!

The flight attendant brought his drink which he accepted gratefully. Taking a sip, he let his eyes once again roam over the hunk, looking, this time, for a ring or any outward clue as to his status, but there was none. The hunk shifted then, turning his head and Blair quickly averted his eyes, focusing on his drink. He didn't want to be caught staring, especially with a three hour flight ahead and nowhere to hide if his seatmate didn't appreciate his gawking.

***

Jim felt his seatmate's eyes on him, but he was used to that sort of attention, it came with the territory. Keeping his head averted, Jim hoped he could stave off the inevitable... the questions, the supposition, and just complete this flight in solitude. It didn't help that his face had been plastered across the news this last week as word of his very public trade hit the presses.

Jimmy Ellison, star quarterback for the Dallas Cowboys has been traded to the new franchise, the Cascade Rangers.

What wasn't in the papers were the details of the deal, the fact that they had only signed Jim to a one year contract. And even though there had been a huge signing bonus, it came at the cost of signing a moral turpitude clause, a very severe clause. Jim's bisexuality was well known, and while that sort of behavior was not accepted in the sports society, Jim had gotten away with it only because his skills on the field had overshadowed any extracurricular activities he participated in. Unless, of course, a coach made a pass, and not the kind involving a football, and wouldn't take no for an answer; then it was unacceptable and Jimmy was traded as fast as possible.

Never being one to let someone else control his destiny, Jim had called upon his father for help; Jim wanted to work in his home city and retire. Bill Ellison made calls to his old college buddy, Dan Morton, owner of the Cascade Ranger, and the rest was history. Now all Jim had to do was stay out of the public spotlight with his sexuality and at the end of the season, he'd get a nice big check for being a good, if discreet man, and he'd retire. It was a win/win situation. As long as he could keep his dick in his pants when it came to men. It's only a few months, he reassured himself. I've gone longer before without even trying.

With that thought firmly in mind, Jim closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths to relax. He hated flying, being cooped up with so many people and their various sounds and scents bothering him; there were times when it was all he could do to get through a flight. But this time, when he breathed in the scents around him, his eyes popped open and his head spun around to the man next to him. Dear god, he smells like come!

***

Blair had seen his seatmate's head swerve towards him and he wasn't sure why. Taking a sip of his coke, Blair tried to ignore the attention; he was recognized everywhere, this wasn't new. Yet, of their own volition, Blair's eyes rose. The glass in his hand trembled as their eyes locked and Blair saw a hungry predator eyeing him.

Closing his eyes, Blair's heartbeat exploded in his chest and his breaths came shallower. Lust he could handle, desire even, but this... this was more, this was all-consuming. This was something dangerous and exiting and it made his cock sit up and take notice.

Deciding to see just how far he could take this, Blair dipped his index finger in the cool drink and held it up to his lips. His tongue darted out and licked away the sticky droplet and then slid the finger between his lips, making a soft sucking sound.

Hearing a low growl beside him, Blair's eyes swerved to meet his seatmate's. Blue clashed against blue, heat sparkled and sizzled between them. Blair watched as the hunk's hand reached for him...

"Excuse me, gentle-" the flight attendant said, rattling them from their lust induced stupor. "I'm sorry, I... what would you like for dinner? We have-"

"Nothing," they said simultaneously, their eyes still locked.

They pulled away from each other, both a bit shocked and embarrassed by how carried away they had gotten in only a few minutes. Laughing softly, Blair looked back at his seatmate who was smiling and rubbing his eyebrow with a thumb.

"I'm Blair," he said, holding out a hand.

"Jim."

They held hands longer than a proper handshake, but neither cared. What Blair did notice was the way Jim's thumb stroked his pulse point in his wrist. Jim noticed how firm Blair's handshake was, how strong his hands seemed, how long his fingers were; Jim shifted in his seat, drawing Blair's attention to his lap.

"I'd love to give you a hand with that," Blair said softly, his eyes on the staining material of Jim's pants.

Jim growled softly and let his eyes glance at Blair's crotch where the straining fabric gave his game away.

"Only if I could do the same for you."

Looking around, Blair ached for a solution to their mutual problem.

"Mile high club?" Blair asked with a laugh, half serious.

Shaking his head, Jim answered, "Impossible."

"It could work," Blair said.

"It could work," Jim agreed, "but... it would be over too soon."

The heat in Jim's voice made Blair moan softly.

"Wouldn't be enough, would it?" Jim asked, dropping his hand to the front of his slacks and slowly stroking himself once.

Blair slowly nodded, not taking his eyes off Jim's hand.

"Think about how good it'd be if we waited."

Blair licked his lips, nodding, and said, "Delayed gratification. I can handle that."

Wondering if he could handle the situation himself, Jim shifted in his seat and signaled the flight attendant for another drink.

***

The flight was long and uneventful... for most of the passengers, but Jim and Blair were in a totally different, lust induced world. As they got closer and closer to their destination, they stepped up the flirting and seduction until they were both clinging to the edge. At one point, Jim had gotten up to go to the restroom and had stood close enough to Blair to feel the heat of Blair's breath on his crotch. Blair had retaliated by standing up and bending over, his ass mere inches from Jim's hand. Lust coursed through their veins and it was reaching the boiling over point.

Now as the plane started its descent, they grew serious.

"Do you still want to do this?" Jim asked, need edging his voice.

"God! Yes, absolutely," Blair nodded enthusiastically.

"I don't really have anywhere..."

"I do," Blair said, smiling.

***

Blair gripped Jim's hips and slammed into him with all his strength. Over and over again, Blair pounded into Jim's hot hole, rubbing over that sweet spot inside that made Jim's body twitch and shudder. If the sounds escaping the gag were any clue, Jim was in fucking heaven, and Blair was glad Jim had asked to be gagged.

"So fucking tight," Blair moaned as he continued to pound Jim's ass. "Such a sweet ass."

Jim bucked under him and Blair slapped his already reddened ass.

"Don't be a bad boy or I'll have to spank you more," Blair warned, but it had a counter effect; Jim bucked back again. Dropping alternating slaps on Jim's ass, Blair fucked him for all he was worth and came with a yell.

Falling beside Jim's still prostrate form, Blair wiped the sweat off his brow and turned to look at Jim. Still on his knees, Jim's cock hung heavily between his legs, purple and bulging, the cock ring holding him firmly. With Jim's hands bound above his head, there was no way for Jim to get off unless Blair decided it was time. This was what Jim had asked for, to be at Blair's mercy.

Stroking Jim's sweaty chest, Blair pinched Jim's nipples.

"You need some more, don't you?" Blair asked redundantly. He listened to Jim's whimpers as he slowly stroked down Jim's chest and gripped his cock in a tight fist. "What should I do with you now?"

***

The next afternoon Jim was still tingling in places from his hours with Blair. What a joy to find someone who could fulfill his desires and not make him feel abnormal for his tastes. He had slipped out early this morning, leaving Blair sleeping; he had found that the morning after was always awkward and tried to get out without that complication. It would have been nice to be able to see Blair again, but with his strict contract and high profile life, there was no way it was possible.

After signing his contract that afternoon, Jim had gone back to his hotel and slept for a few hours. There was a cocktail party scheduled for that night for the team owner and attendance was mandatory; he didn't want to start out on the wrong foot, so he had his suit pressed and went.

***

Leaning against a pillar, Jim watched disinterestedly as the players milled around. Not only did Dan Morton own the Cascade Rangers, but he also owned the Cascade Timberwolves.

Sipping his champagne, Jim was startled when he heard a familiar voice behind him.

"Fancy meeting you here, Jim." Blair's voice was full of mirth.

"What... what're you..."

Laughing at Jim's discomfiture, Blair said, "I play for the Timberwolves."

"Ohhh..."

"And you must play for the Rangers," Blair said, "because I definitely would have noticed if you'd been playing on our team."

"Oh, I don't know, Chief, I thought we were playing for the same team last night," Jim said softly.

Blair's smile blinded Jim.

"Yes, yes, I do believe we play for the same team." Blair glanced around. "But it's not public knowledge."

Nodding, Jim said, "I understand completely. Moral turpitude."

Accepting another glass of champagne from a passing waiter, Jim asked, "So, what position do you play? Pitcher?"

Blair's eyes sparkled as he caught the innuendo.

"Well, no, actually, but I do pitch really well."

"Yes, you do," Jim said under his breath. "Catcher then?"

"Nope, but I have been known to catch for certain pitchers," Blair eyes gleamed. "Actually, I'm the shortstop."

"Ah," Jim said, licking his lips, "a very important position."

"What about you, Jim? Are you a tight end?"

Laughing, Jim answered, "No, but I'm really glad you didn't ask if I was a wide receiver."

"No," Blair said, heat in his voice, "tight is much more accurate."

They grinned at each other.

"Actually, I'm the quarterback."

"Ah, I should have known I'd score with the quarterback."

Any further conversation was cut off when the team owner took the stage to make his announcements. Finally, the event was over and they were free to leave.

"I had a nice time talking with you tonight," Blair said as they walked outside.

Jim nodded. "Me, too."

They stood there looking at each other, waiting, wondering.

Not ready for the night to end, Blair asked, "Want to do something?"

Jim smiled. "What'd you have in mind?"

"Dinner?"

"Dinner's good."

It was a good start.

The end.

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Acknowledgements: Many thanks to Patt who cheered me to the finish. Thanks to Mary for the swift and sure beta at last minute. Thanks to AngstPuppy and Corinne for the fabulous art. Couldn't have done it without any of y'all.