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Summary: A missing scene (actually, more of a "what really happened" scene ;) set in the episode "Rogue", in the restaurant where Brackett scanned Jim and Blair for bugs and tracking devices.

Warnings: Mild nonconsensual sex.

Brackett stepped close and ran the detector over Jim's groin, smiling a little as it beeped. Jim met the rogue agent's eyes and felt a wave of tension wash through his muscles as he recognized the gleam of real pleasure in the cold gaze. "I wondered if you'd bait me that way," Brackett said softly, stepping back and strolling around the table, laying the detector down. "Bad idea, Ellison --" and the thin smile Brackett flashed him then had all his instincts screaming, "--or was it a good one?"

Brackett sat down and leaned back in the seat, blatantly running his eyes over Jim's body. "Not quite as straight-arrow as you like to pretend, maybe?" His smile widened as Jim's face remained stony. "I did mention that I read your dossier, didn't I? Your full dossier." Brackett turned towards Blair. His voice deceptively pleasant, he said, "Mr. Sandburg -- would you kindly drop Mr. Ellison's pants?"

Blair jerked his worried gaze away from Jim's face to stare blankly at the former agent. Seeing no reprieve in Brackett's face, he turned back to Jim, eyes mutely asking for direction. Jim clenched his jaw and gave Blair a quick, tight nod, stepping slightly back from the table to give his partner room. Blair stepped close, his hands tentatively resting on the waistband of Jim's pants, his fingers holding still on the top button.

"It's to get us off-balance, Chief," Jim murmured through unmoving lips.

Blair met his eyes gratefully for a moment, then dropped his gaze. "I hear you," came the barely-breathed response. The secret communication warmed Jim through, like the gentle touches Blair used to ground him during their tests, and some of the tension left his body even as Blair unzipped his pants. The strong fingers trailed heat over his hips as Blair guided the khakis down and let them drop to the ground.

Blair reluctantly moved away at a word from the agent. Jim felt his skin crawl as Brackett eyed him, mockingly doing a once-over of his bare thighs and calves, then lingering on his snug briefs. The tension flooded back into him, and even though he knew Brackett was just trying to provoke a reaction, he was almost at the point of giving the rogue exactly what he wanted.

"This gives a whole new meaning to the saying, 'wear clean underwear in case something happens to you,'" Blair whispered, sentinel-soft, and Jim felt his mouth twitching with sudden amusement, the tension defused.

Brackett's mouth tightened as Jim failed to react. Grabbing up the detector again, he got up and pushed back into Jim's personal space, running the device over Jim's crotch and even reaching between Jim's legs. Jim clenched his hands into fists and stared at a spot of peeling paint on the far wall as Brackett's hand moved between his thighs.

Jim braced himself as the detector beeped again, since the wire was tucked inside the waistband of his briefs, anticipating Brackett's next move. The rogue didn't disappoint him.

"Well, looks like you're going to be colder before you're warmer, Ellison." Brackett backed away again and gestured at Blair. "Take the briefs off." He turned back to Jim with a smirk. "I hope you haven't hidden it somewhere more personal than that."

Jim stood stiffly, fighting down embarrassment, trying to keep his head. A warm hand rubbed his back comfortingly for a moment, then Blair slid the briefs down and let them drop. The restaurant was warm enough, but it took an effort of will not to shiver as Brackett practically leered at him. The agent pulled on a leather glove and deliberately cupped Jim's balls, lifting them and his cock forward. Pride kept Jim's face a rigid mask as Brackett ran the detector obscenely close to his organs. He could feel the agent's eyes on him, avidly searching for humiliation, for weakness, and that kept him stiff and unmoving, unyielding, even when Brackett squeezed down, just to the point of pain.

He heard the soft intake of breath as Blair winced sympathetically, saw Blair twitch forward out of the corner of his eye, then subside, blue eyes angry and resentful as they fixed on Brackett. Brackett had caught Blair's movement as well, and he smiled even as he let go of Jim and stepped back.

"I guess it was in the briefs, then," Brackett said. "Hand it over, Ellison."

Clumsy with the pants pooled around his ankles, Jim reluctantly bent over and pulled the wire from where it lay, trying not to let the unpleasant feeling of exposure get to him. He tossed the wire on the table with a clink as he straightened up. "Can I put my pants back on, or do you still need to get your rocks off some more?"

Without answering, Brackett picked up the wire and dropped it to the floor, grinding it to dust with the heel of his boot, his lips still stretched in a humorless smile. Jim cursed himself as he took in the expression, knowing with cold certainty that he'd misplayed the situation badly. _I should've caved, yelled, something_ he thought grimly.

He stiffened as Brackett walked around him and lifted the back of his shirt up. The muscles of his ass wanted badly to clench shut under the almost palpable weight of Brackett's inspection. His sense of touch spiralled upwards involuntarily, tracking Brackett's every move by the shifting air currents.

So he had some warning, but he still wasn't prepared when the gloved hand smacked against his ass, hard and punishing. The blow caused more shock than pain, and he managed to recover without taking a step forward. Even though he knew that he should capitulate, give Brackett what he wanted, Jim found that he couldn't bring himself to cry out in front of the bastard.

Gritting his teeth, Jim held himself ready for another blow, when Blair burst out, "What kind of sick asshole are you?" He felt Brackett turn sharply towards his partner. Glancing over, he could see faint tremors of anger shaking Blair's body. "How the hell did a psycho like you get into the CIA to begin with?" Blair went on. "I'd think even they had higher standards. You got rid of the damn wires. Why are we still sitting here?"

Brackett's mirthless laugh stirred the hairs on the back of his neck. "You know why, don't you, Ellison?" he said. The gloved hand rose up to rest on the back of his neck, the thumb lightly stroking up and down. "Your partner here understands the value of control, Sandburg. And what both of you need to understand is that *I'm* the one with the control here."

Abruptly, the hand left him as Brackett stepped away, setting the detector back down. The rogue agent spread his empty hands wide. "You two could walk out of here any time you want. I don't have a gun. I don't have a gang of thugs. I don't even have handcuffs or chains. I don't believe in working with crude tools like that."

"No, you like threatening the mass murder of innocent people," Blair shot back.

"The mass murder of thousands of innocent people, to be exact," Brackett said, his words made even more chilling by the utter lack of remorse in his tone. "And I will follow through if you two don't obey." The mocking smile was gone from his face completely. "There's no room for debate on this little adventure. And the two of you had better get it through your heads that I'm in charge, no matter what I tell you to do -- unless it seems worse to you than the deaths of thousands of men, women, and children."

"We get the point," Blair said.

"No, I don't really think you do," Brackett said, tilting his head consideringly. "But let's give it a shot. If either of you have any other bugs or wires on you, drop them on the table now."

Jim resisted the impulse to look at Blair, feeling the soft lump of the piezoelectric bug tucked inside his cheek. "You found them all."

Brackett picked up the detector again. "We'll just have to see about that."

Jim felt his gut tighten as the detector beeped noticably when Brackett ran it over Blair's face, then again as the device skimmed a few inches away from his own jaw.

After quickly checking the readouts, Brackett looked up. "Surprise, surprise," he said mockingly. "Let's have the protein trackers."

Jim exchanged a grim look with Blair, then took the capsule out of his mouth and handed it over, as Blair did. Brackett crushed them in his hand, then dropped them to the floor and stepped on them for good measure. The rogue walked around to the far side of the table and resumed his seat. He reached out and caught the corner of the table, spinning it so that he faced them over the narrower portion. Hooking a chair from a nearby table, he set his beer on the seat and hung the shabby tablecloth over the back, leaving the table bare. Finished clearing the table, Brackett looked across it at Jim and smirked, beckoning with one hand. "Bend over the table, Jimmy. It's time for a lesson in control."

Jim stood stiffly for a moment, hands clenching and unclenching, but the inescapable truth was that the agent held all the cards. He stepped forward and leaned over the table, bracing his palms against the surface.

"Uh-uh." Bracket shook a finger at him. "Chest flat on the table, and grab hold of the edge here with your hands." He tapped the edge of the table just in front of him. "Otherwise it would be hard for Mr. Sandburg to really fuck you properly."

Jim's head jerked up, and he met the other man's viciously amused eyes with shock. Behind him, he heard Blair say in a stunned voice, "You are totally out of your mind." Brackett didn't acknowledge the protest from Blair, just smiled at Jim, the thin curving line of his mouth saying that he knew, knew that part of Jim wasn't horrified by the idea in the least.

"Flat on the table, Jim," Brackett said softly. "And pull the shirt up higher. Unless, of course, you'd rather let all those poor little innocents die."

"Don't, Jim. I'm not going to do it," Blair said.

"Oh, I think you will, Mr. Sandburg--"

"Before you try to feed me the line about the 'poor little innocents,'" Blair interrupted, "This isn't a matter of choice, here. The idea of raping my best friend in front of a psychopathic voyeur with delusions of grandeur isn't exactly calculated to make me get it up."

Brackett laughed, a chilling sound. "I've seen men forced to rape their own daughters, Sandburg. Believe me, the equipment can work even when you don't want it to." He shrugged and added with deliberate crudeness, "If you really have a hard time, I'll just have Ellison blow you for a while." He turned back to Jim and tapped the edge of the table meaningfully. "I won't tell you again, Jim."

Jim swallowed hard and lowered himself to the table, staring down at the faint gouges and scars on the wood as he reached out and curled his fingers around the edge. His waist pressed against the edge of the table, his cock hanging just below the top.

"Now the shirt."

Jim flashed Brackett a glare, then dropped his eyes back to the table top. He reached back with one hand, tucking the hanging ends of his shirt around his waist, letting his weight pin the cloth to the table. He couldn't help shivering just a little at exposing himself so completely, knowing that Blair was right there, right behind him, seeing his naked thighs and buttocks, the balls hanging heavy between his legs...

"Come on around, Sandburg," Brackett ordered. Jim felt the dragging reluctance in Blair's gait as his partner walked around the table to stand stiffly next to Brackett, just in front of Jim. "Drop them," Brackett added, gesturing to Blair's pants.

Blair shot Jim one quick desperate glance, then slowly unfastened the pants and let them drop, followed by the flannel boxers he wore underneath.

Jim bit his lip to keep his nostrils from flaring as the hormone-laden musk from Blair's body hit his senses, fresh and stronger than the frequently maddening traces that lurked at the loft, in the bathroom, in the small bedroom, tantalizing hints of how Blair would taste. Jim clutched the edge of the table so hard he wouldn't have been surprised to hear the wood crack, desperately trying to control and conceal his reaction from Brackett.

"Time to 'close your eyes and think of England,' Ellison," Brackett taunted, standing up and shoving Blair roughly towards Jim. "Open your mouth."

"No!" Blair resisted. "I'll... I can... let me at least try before you make him...!"

"You should of thought of that before you started whining about how you weren't going to do it. I'm getting tired of teaching you two this lesson, but let's try it again," Brackett said. "When you try to say no to me, things are just going to get worse."

Brackett reached out and cupped Jim's chin, forcing the detective to look up at him. "Or better, depending on your perspective," he taunted.

He released Jim's head and backed a few steps away. "The sooner you get started, Sandburg, the sooner it'll be over. And if Ellison's not sucking your cock in," he glanced at his watch, "thirty seconds, he's going to have to beg for it first." Brackett folded his arms over his chest as he leaned back against a nearby table and stared at them.

"Oh god," Blair muttered under his breath. "Jim? What do you want me to do?"

Jim closed his eyes and swallowed. "Come closer," he said tightly.

Blair obeyed, coming to stand just in front of Jim's face, his soft cock level with the tabletop. Jim blew a hard breath out, then leaned forward and awkwardly tried to get the limp cock into his mouth. He could hear Blair's heartbeat skipping wildly as his lips fumbled over the soft skin, sucking the head into his mouth.

Jim wrapped his tongue around the head, coaxing the rest of the shaft into his mouth. The soft member started swelling in the moist heat of his mouth, the head bumping at the back of his throat as Blair choked down soft, frantic noises. Jim knew he was revealing too much now as he used mouth and lips and tongue and teeth to bring Blair to full hardness, as he accomodated the growing shaft. He slid his head back a little, letting the shaft slide partly out, his tongue dipping into the tiny slit. The salty-bitter taste seemed to sizzle on his tongue, and he shuddered all over as it hit him suddenly that this was real, this was happening, and that was Blair who was trembling under his mouth.

He eased back down on Blair's cock, swallowing the thick length of it, feeling the soft pulse against his tongue. He'd all but forgotten about Brackett's presence. The touch on his ass came as a surprise, and he instinctively tried to pull away. But there was nowhere to go, trapped as he was against the table, and he only managed to drive Blair's cock deeper into his throat. He felt the low moan that shook Blair's body trembling down the shaft, and he found himself gripping Blair's hips as one leather-covered finger, slick with some kind of oil, pressed into him.

He gasped for breath as he was probed and stretched, a second finger entering him now, more oil lubricating his entrance. He squeezed his eyes shut and concentrated on the scent, the taste of Blair in his mouth, even as his balls were gently squeezed and rolled in Brackett's other hand. His cock began to harden involuntarily under the onslaught of stimulation.

Blair moaned again, his hands cupping Jim's head, fingers stroking and petting as his hips started to thrust shallowly. Jim leaned into the caresses as he sucked, his hands sliding around to cup Blair's ass and pull the warm body closer. He could feel cool rivulets of oil dripping down his thighs as Brackett finished prepping him and pulled the gloved fingers out, and he grew tense with anticipation at the sudden sensation of emptiness.

"Well," Brackett mocked, coming back around and making a show of inspecting Blair's cock. "Looks like you managed to get it up after all, Sandburg."

Blair staggered as Brackett pulled him away from Jim, his cock jutting out, gleaming wet and achingly hard. He clutched the nearby chair and hung on just to stay upright, trying to catch his breath. Jim gripped the table again, knuckles white with tension, torn between hating Brackett and desperately craving more of Blair's touch.

"He's prepped, Sandburg," Brackett said. "Get to it." The rogue agent pulled his chair over, right in front of Jim, then sat down and leaned back in his chair, taking a pull from his beer. He reached out and cupped Jim's chin, the glove still smelling of his body and olive oil. "I'm going to enjoy watching your face while he sinks into you, Ellison," Brackett whispered in a parody of intimacy.

Blair just stood there, not moving, until the agent half turned towards him. "Get a move on, Sandburg -- or do you need another taste of what happens when you don't follow orders?"

Jim wanted badly to clench his jaw as he heard Blair stumble around the table, but he refused to give Brackett the satisfaction of feeling the grimace as long as the other man held his face. Blair's hands rested lightly on his waist, tentative and questioning, the reluctance plain to Jim's senses. Brackett looked up, then back down, forcing Jim to meet his eyes. "You know, Ellison, it looks like your partner needs a little encouragement."

Jim gritted his teeth, forcibly restraining himself from grinding them together. Brackett's hand tightened on his jaw, and he forced the words out. "It's all right, Chief. Go.. go ahead."

Brackett leaned close. "That wasn't all that encouraging. I think you can do better."

Jim felt Blair's misery like a palpable thing, even mixed with the potent scent of arousal and the echoes of Blair's cries of pleasure still in his ears. He shut Brackett out, blocked the situation out of his mind, and spoke only to Blair. "It's okay. It's okay. I... I want you to. And I'm not saying that for this scumbag, and I'm not even saying it because of the virus. I'm saying it to you."

"Jim." Blair whispered his name softly, reverently, and he felt warmed through by the sound of it on those lips and the heat radiating from the sturdy body standing so close behind him.

Blair's hands cupped his buttocks, pressing the cheeks open, and he felt the tip of Blair's cock nudging at his entrance. Then the shaft was pressing in, stretching him, and he found himself clutching at the table like a lifeline. He could feel Brackett's eyes on his face, knew that the pleasure igniting in his body was blazoned across his features, but the agent was suddenly overwhelmingly unimportant in comparison with the ecstasy as Blair slowly sank into his body. His back arched as Blair fully penetrated, his head flung back. Blair's hands came around him. "Jim," Blair gasped. "Oh god, Jim..." The breathless voice broke off in a strangled moan as Jim pushed back.

Blair thrust forward in response, and they built a rhythm together, neither of them caring now that Brackett was there, that they were fucking on a rickety wooden table in the middle of a dingy restaurant, that the entire city was being held hostage with a deadly virus, that their backup and support were gone... Nothing mattered except the heat, and the pleasure, and they were dissolving together, falling together, and Jim gave a shout and came for what felt like forever while Blair kept pounding into him, thrusting into the tight, clenching channel until he suddenly crumpled against Jim's back and exploded deep inside him.

They just lay there for a while, flat on the table, dazed and panting. Blair half-snuggled against his back, Jim stretched a little under the warm heavy weight of his partner and sighed deeply, relaxed and comfortable in the glow of satisfaction even though the table was still hard underneath his chest.

He finally mustered the energy to raise his head when he heard the sound of gulping. Brackett was standing several paces away, facing away from them, all but pouring the rest of his beer down his throat. Jim's nostrils twitched as he picked up the third scent of completion filling the air of the room, his fists clenching with renewed anger as he realized that the jerk had gotten off on watching them.

Blair picked up on his cues, and the two of them struggled off the table and started putting themselves back together, grabbing napkins off another table to clean off with and pulling their underwear and pants back up.

Blair glanced over at Brackett, who hadn't turned to look at them and was standing with the empty bottle pressed to his forehead. "What's with him?" he asked softly, for Jim's ears.

"The son of a bitch came," Jim said tightly as he zipped up his fly, rolling his hips a little as faint twinges ached through him, not unpleasantly. He wasn't sure why he hated the fact of the other man getting off more than almost anything else about the whole thing, but somehow it felt like more of a violation than the rest, an invasion of something that belonged to him and Blair alone. Blair snorted with suppressed laughter, puzzling him. "What's so funny about it?"

Blair's smirk was faintly touched with malice. "He didn't take off his pants before he came."

Jim's mouth twitched as that sank in, and their eyes met in mutual amusement at Brackett's expense. Then amusement became something else, something more, and Jim leaned forward, meeting Blair halfway, and Blair's mouth was sweet and hot and promising all at once.

Their lips parted reluctantly, and they stood close together for another lingering moment, hands clasped, foreheads pressed against each other, stealing a few fragile moments of peace.

They stepped apart just before Brackett turned around and dropped the bottle on the table, grabbing his jacket from a chair and turning to face them. "Let's get going, gentlemen," he said, his voice controlled and emotionless. "The timer is ticking, after all."

The partners shared another silent glance, then preceded Brackett out of the restaurant.

// The End //