This is the sequel to Track 3: You Mean The World To Me.

Words and Music by Whitney Houston, L.A. Reid, Babyface, and Daryl Simmons. Vocals by Whitney Houston.




Blair sent Jim into the bathroom for a hot shower, while he went to his room to change into something dry. Good thing he hadn't taken everything with him when he'd left earlier. He'd left. And maybe fucked up things permanently with Jim. Worse, he'd come back only to find Jim zoned on the balcony, nearly frozen in the icy Cascade rain. Shit, man. You put the "f" and the "u" in fuck up, don't you?

He gathered up his wet clothes and wondered what to do with them. Wash them, he thought. Better than wetting everything in the hamper. He left his room, then detoured toward the bathroom, figuring he may as well pick up Jim's too. The lavatory was toasty, the steam rising from behind the shower curtain and being gently tugged out by the ventilating fan. "Jim, I'm going to stick these wet things in the washing machine."

"Okay," came the muffled reply.

He leaned over to pick up the clothes which, even though they were soaking wet, were folded up on a towel on the toilet lid. Neat freak, he muttered to himself. He frowned, noting a rusty-looking spot on Jim's shirt. Uh oh. Had he remembered to get a new bottle of stain remover? He was supposed to.... The thought left his head as he realized what the stain was. Blood.

Without stopping to think, he pulled back the shower curtain. "Sandburg!" Jim yelled, more startled than embarrassed.

"There's blood on your shirt, Jim. Are you hurt? Damn it, man, tell me where you're hurt!"

Jim had noticed the scratches on his chest, but hadn't thought much about them. "The frame was broken and I guess I held it too tight," he admitted. "But look, Chief. It's nothing. See?" he pointed to his soapy chest.

But Blair had already seen the chest...and everything else. He debated his next action. He could walk out...or he could walk in. The debate was brief.

Don't make no difference if I'm wrong or I'm right.

I've got the feeling and I'm willing tonight.

Well, I ain't nobody's angel....

What can I say? Well, I'm just that way.

"Sandburg, what are you--" Jim began as Blair pulled his T-shirt over his head and dropped the sweatpants. "Chief--" he tried again, his voice oddly hoarse.

"Shh," Blair said, stepping into the shower as nude as the day Naomi had given birth to him. "I need to be punished, Jim, for walking out on you. How better to punish me by showing me what I'm losing, huh? Like you did with that kiss? Let me find out what I'm forfeiting, baby." He smiled as Jim backed up against the wall, unwilling but not escaping either. Then he looked down, and saw that Jim wasn't as unwilling as he thought. "You're so beautiful, man. Sculptured perfection." His hand shot out, stroking whatever was within his grasp. Hardness, softness, warmth. All his...if only for this moment.

"Blair," Jim moaned as his partner touched him in places that hadn't been touched for quite a while, at least not with such care. Because he had been chilled, he'd turned up his tactile dial in order to appreciate the warm water better. Now, he couldn't turn it down. He didn't want to turn it down.

I got the stuff that you want.

I got the thing that you need.

I got more than enough,

To make you drop to your knees.

'Cause I'm the Queen of the Night, the Queen of the Night, oh yeah.

"I want you, Jim," Blair whispered, knowing the sentinel could hear him. "I want you like I've never wanted anyone...woman or man." He pulled him closer, feeling Jim's cock rub against his belly. He grabbed the firm buttocks, then raised his head to capture the mouth directly above his. The kiss was long, deep, possessing. Jim gave a smothered gasp as he felt Blair's fingers knead, then part him to lightly stroke the puckered flesh between the cheeks.

Blair knew he was rushing it, but he was afraid if he slowed down, if he gave Jim time to think, his opportunity would be gone. No, he couldn't risk that. When breathing became too difficult, he reluctantly broke off the kiss, then trailed his lips down Jim's throat, to the chest, and finally to the nubs standing at attention...looking for attention. They got it. His hands skipped lower, encountering a straining erection. When his hands finished, he dropped to his knees and continued the worship. He was already so familiar with Jim's body, he knew when his partner was close to falling over the edge. For a just a second, he paused. Then he flicked his tongue a certain way.

Jim cried out as the explosion came, then felt his bones turn liquid.

You got a problem with the way that I am?

They say I'm trouble, and I don't give a damn.

But when I'm bad, I know I'm better.

I just wanna get loose, and turn it up on you.

Blair climbed to his feet, pleased with the utterly destroyed look on Jim's face. The enemy was defeated. Now came the time of pillage. With the gentlest of prodding, Jim was turned to face the wall. He mumbled some protest about weakened knees, but Blair pressed against the solid back, telling Jim in a low whisper that he knew how strong he was, how much those legs could hold. While he gave his encouragement, his fingers explored the cleft that took perfection, and made it times two.

The wet fingers found the opening they sought. Even as spent as Jim was, he stiffened and the digits found resistance. Blair smiled. Good ol' Jim. He had defense down to an art form. But he was about to learn there was a time when every man had to give up self, and become one with the stronger forces of nature. He dropped his voice to guide-timbre, a tone that Jim instinctively obeyed. "Relax, Jim. That's right." The fingers slipped right in, and he closed his eyes to memorize the tactile map they created. Pressure here caused Jim to shudder. Pressure there caused him to moan. The fingers were removed. The ass wriggled slightly at the loss. Blair pressed his lips against the spine arched beneath them, knowing Jim could feel the vibrations as he spoke. "I'm your guide. I will never hurt you. But I will have you. Do you understand?"

Jim gave a little nod and Blair entered him slowly, aware that his sensitive partner could feel every contact point along the way. Yes, Jim. That is my skin you feel inside you. If I twitch, you twitch. If I angle just a little, you.... What was that sound, Jim? A mewl? My fierce kitten liked that, did he? He stuck out his tongue to lick the muscles along ample expanse the position afforded him. Jim shivered and Blair found more muscles to sample. Touching Jim on the outside and the inside. It was happening. Finally. All those fantasies he'd lain in bed and dreamed of, had sat across from Jim and daydreamed of, all were becoming reality. He frowned as he realized all the time that had been wasted. His partner had wanted him, but hadn't told him. Some stupid excuse about having the power in the relationship. He laughed as he sank further into the man he loved. "Who has the power now, Jim?" he demanded softly. When Jim didn't respond, he nipped him on the back, almost coming when the action caused Jim to clench the muscular cheeks together. Had he ever really noticed what a beautiful ass he had? He had looked, but usually at the whole package, not the individual parts.

"You do," Jim panted, his hands pressed against the tile as he pushed back against his partner, wanting him, all of him.

Blair complied to the silent request, burying himself into the tight orifice as his hands reached around to cup Jim's genitals. The flesh beneath his fingers was burning, engorged with blood, straining for release as it had before. He ran a finger experimentally around the base of the head. Jim quivered around him "Who has the power?" he repeated, heady with the control he wielded.

"You do, Chief. Always you."

Blair nodded, and gave his subject a lesson in proper dispensation of power.

I got the stuff that you want.

I got the thing that you need.

I got more than enough,

To make you drop to your knees

'Cause I'm the Queen of the Night, the Queen of the Night, oh yeah.

Blair stood defiantly before Jim as they dried themselves off. Yes, he had taken what he wanted, and hell, it had been worth it. No matter what Jim was going to tell him now. No matter what Jim was going to do to him now. Of course, whatever it was, he deserved it. He had used his knowledge as a guide against the sentinel. He knew how sensitive Jim could be, how his voice could control him.... He had used it all against him, bending him-- literally-- to his will. But, God help him, even if Jim saw it as a betrayal, he still thought it had been worth it.

Jim eyed the smaller man with a predatory glance. "You're feeling pretty smug about what happened, aren't you, Sandburg?"

"Smug, no. Satisfied, yes." It sounded good, reflective of his newborn power, and he was more than satisfied. Twice he had brought Jim to a climax, and then he... Oh, my. He had come inside of Jim, and whatever fantasies he'd had, had paled to a faded sepia compared to the color-intensive experience of the real thing. Thank goodness his Blessed Protector had still been on the job, despite his own post-coital shakes. Jim had grabbed his arms, gripping them tightly around his waist, and literally holding Blair up until the colors faded, and earth finally coalesced around him. Blair figured he was going to have bruises where Jim had held onto him, but that was much better than cracking his skull against the slick, white porcelain.

Oh, yeah, he was satisfied, but he was also nervous, something his pounding heart was telling the sentinel as they squared off in the small room. In all honesty, he wasn't frightened that Jim would physically hurt him. Even when he'd jacked him against the wall that first day, he hadn't hurt him. Jim was strong, and he knew it. When necessary, he could cause considerable damage, but otherwise he took great pains to be gentle, especially with his friends. His mind went back to a football game they had played at the last police picnic. He'd arranged it so that he and Jim would be on different teams-- the better to be tackled by him. But he'd only had the pleasure once, because it seemed everyone wanted to be tackled by Jim. Every time he brought someone down, he bore the brunt of the impact, then quickly helped them up. Watching closely, Blair had noticed that Jim also checked them out with his sentinel senses, making sure nothing had been damaged. Good thing he'd chosen the Army over the NFL. Delay of game penalties would have piled up as he checked everyone out. But he did have a hell of an arm. Would have made an award-winning quarterback.

"I didn't stand a chance, did I? Everything you have ever learned about a sentinel, you used, didn't you? I was putty in your hands."

The voice came from behind him. How the hell had Jim circled him without his knowing? His stealth always amazed him and...oh shit. No, Jim wouldn't pummel him. And Jim wouldn't play psychological games with him. Well, not the bad, emotionally crippling kind. His soul, beautiful thing that it was, wasn't sadistic enough. But...but Jim possessed the spirit of the jaguar, a sleek black hunter who stalked its prey-- often toying with it before the final, fatal pounce. Uh oh. Laws of the jungle, Sandburg. Bravely, Blair turned to face the predator. He nodded, then smirked. "But the hardest damn putty I've ever seen. Hot too." On occasion, the prey could bluff its enemy with a show of spirit.

Feral eyes burned into him. "And you're not the least bit sorry, are you?"

"No." He wouldn't give anything for those precious moments when he was one with his sentinel. The memory may have to last a lifetime, which could be rather brief if he correctly interpreted the look in Jim's eyes, but hell, life hadn't begun until that moment any way.

"I have three things to say to you, Sandburg."

Blair froze, ready for his punishment. Eat, or be eaten. That was the number one law of the jungle, and although he had dined quite well, cats had nine lives. "I'm listening."

"One, turn about is fair play."

Well, that had interesting connotations, considering the sin he had committed. Did that mean...? "Continue."

"Two, payback is a bitch."

Ah. Jim was brawn, but he had an incredible brain. His mind could be dangerously creative at times. How intriguing. "What's the third, Jim?" he asked, trying not to sound to eager. It would mess up his image of complete power.

"Get your ass up to my bed."

Image be damned. The guide obeyed.

'Cause I'm the Queen of the Night, the Queen of the Night, oh yeah,

Say it, say it, say it again,

I'm the Queen of the Night, the Queen of the Night, oh yeah.

The End