Behind Blue Eyes
By Silk
Part 3
All things considered,
when Sandburg was taken at gunpoint to Section One's
headquarters in Europe,
he really couldn't find an immediate reason to
object. He'd spent his
entire life waiting for the other shoe to drop. Now
it had. Big fucking
deal.
It was the interrogation
that gave him his first inkling that things might
not go nearly as
smoothly as he thought.
Michael cut a daunting
figure, all in black. Tall. Like Jim. Strong. Like
Jim. Terse, even silent
at times. Again, like Jim. The long,
cinnamon-colored hair
that curled at his neck combined with those changeable
grey-green eyes made him
look exceptionally attractive to Blair.
Unfortunately, that
wasn't why he was there.
Or was it?
"Mr.
Sandburg...."
Blair noted that Michael
did *not* address him as though he had his
doctorate in
Anthropology. He wondered if a European like Michael read the
Cascade papers. That
struck him so funny, it was all he could not to laugh
out loud. One look at
that stern visage told him that would not be wise.
"Our
organization...." Pause for effect. Michael was nothing if not a master
of the dramatic. Nice
work, man. Blair gave the man a mental thumbs' up. He
made it sound like the
fucking Mafia or something. Heh.
"...is extremely
interested in your...work." Heh. The way Michael paused
over the word
"work" made Blair think, Gee, I wonder what *you* do for a
living. Nope, don't
answer that question. Probably something that starts
with anarchy and ends in
terrorism.
His extraordinary eyes,
the color of dull pewter now, flickered over Blair's
face with more than
casual interest. "We want to know everything you can
tell us...about the
Sentinel you described...in your...dissertation."
"H-he's not. A
Sentinel, I mean. I m-made it up. Didn't you read the
headlines? I'm a fucking
fraud, man. It's all a lie."
Michael gave Blair a
disappointed look, the rise of one eyebrow indicating
his almost palpable feeling
of disbelief. Blair filled the ensuing silence
with almost painfully
bright chatter. "What do you think? It's like a comic
book. It's X-Men stuff,
man. Hyperactive senses. I mean, come on. Get real."
All at once Blair wished
desperately that he were a better liar. He knew he
could never survive a
real interrogation. He swallowed hard, a lump the size
of a peach pit in his
throat now. He had no life anymore. He could handle
death. Hey, God? Been
there, done that. No offense, man. But when he thought
of giving up Jim's
secrets, secrets that had never really been *his* to
tell...well, that would
just be, like, the final violation, man.
As if he were reading
Blair's mind, Michael switched tactics, using his own
very real attraction to
Blair to full advantage. Slowly, inexorably, he
drifted closer to the
smaller man, letting the roughened tips of his fingers
gently abrade his cheek.
Michael registered the other man's sharp intake of
breath as arousal,
automatically cataloguing it along with other thoughts
and feelings he was
picking up.
"You-you're just
doing this c-cause Section told you to, man. You're like a
fucking robot. You're
not g-getting to m-me." Blair clenched his teeth
together so hard, his
jaw began to ache.
Michael smiled
enigmatically. "Section did tell me to use
any...means...necessary."
He tucked a strand of Blair's long curly hair
behind one ear, the
gesture strangely intimate yet not inappropriate.
He leaned close, his
breath whispering across the top of Blair's ear. "But
they don't own me."
"Are
you...um...telling me...you...um...want to do this?"
In answer, Michael
touched his lips to Blair's ear, his tongue flicking out
to moisten, his teeth
seeking to nibble, at that delicious earlobe.