Spring Fling

by Caro Dee

This story is sheer, unmitigated, unrealistic fluff.

Spring Fling is Part 1 of the Four Seasons Series.

This story was betaed by Bluewolf and the gals at SenBetas.

Naomi is going to be so disappointed. She always told me that pot promotes peace, while alcohol creates violence. She's never met these guys. Bunch of trigger-happy, aggressive, agri-business pot growers. Hey, maybe they're drunk! I make a note to email her about sweeping generalizations when we get out of here.

I'm too busy ducking bullets to notice at first that Jim's stopped firing back. I throw a concerned glance at him and see the glazed look in his eyes. Damn it, not again! I scootch over to him, keeping my head below the large rocks that are our only cover, and begin talking him out of his zone.

His eyes clear, focus on me, and his whole face flushes. He edges away from me, and looks out at the bad guys.

I narrow my eyes. This has been happening a lot during the past week or so. Each time Jim claims he doesn't know what started the zone. Each time his eyes look shifty and I figure he does know. But he's not talking.

"Jim." I'm pretty determined now. "You've got to tell me what's causing this. We're in the middle of a gunfight and if you zone big time, we're both in trouble here."

Jim's face is still red. "It's nothing, Chief."

Uh-huh. "Jim."

"Leave it alone, Sandburg."

Jim's manner is pretty gruff. He really doesn't want to talk about this. "Is this something... embarrassing, Jim? Because I have to tell you, you're like neon, glow-in-the-dark, cherry red right now. I bet I could light a candle off you. You know you can tell me anything, Jim. I'm not going to laugh."

Jim throws me a disbelieving look. Well, okay, he's got a point. Still...

"I can't let this go on any more, Jim. It's dangerous now."

Jim heaves a sigh. He stops to fire off a couple of shots to the right and the guy trying to sneak up on us pulls back. Then he turns to me and says, "Pheromones."

Okaaay. Pheromones. I'm scratching my head here when my eyes drop and I notice that Jim's having a little problem. Scratch that-- a big problem. Whoa! Pheromones, huh?

I look up at Jim and he's noticed that I've noticed, because he's brick red. I'm gonna be worrying about his blood pressure now.

"So, um... feeling a little frisky, are we?" I ask, tentatively.

"Jesus, Sandburg!" Jim's starting to look pissed. "Can't you take this seriously at all?"

I'm struggling not to grin. We're in the middle of a gun battle, Simon doesn't know where we are, and at some point Jim's going to run out of bullets. But our real problem is that Jim's got a boner. Yup, I'd have to say this is pretty... freakin' hilarious!

Jim glares at me with disgust. "When you're done giggling over there, Sandburg, you want to figure out a solution?"

I wipe away a few tears and gather myself together. Right. Jim needs help here. I can do this. "So... you say this is pheromone-related? Whose pheromones?"

Jim makes a face. "Everybody's."

Huh? "What do you mean-- 'everybody's'?"

"I mean everybody's pheromones, Chief. It's springtime and every damn living thing on the planet is pouring out pheromones by the bucket."

"But it's just guys out here. Are you saying guy pheromones are doing this?" Whoa! I'm surprised my hair didn't burst into flames under the force of that glare.

Jim says, through clenched teeth, "It's not just guys, although you're all leaking like crazy. There's a couple of roe deer females in heat half a mile away and a male heading in their direction-- deer pheromones. There's rabbits and gophers and chipmunks and skunks and something I think is a badger-- all spewing out pheromones. There's about fifty birds and a couple dozen squirrels just in these trees right here-- and they're all looking for dates. That make it any clearer to you, Einstein?"

"Animal pheromones? You're reacting to animal pheromones? Jim, that's not possible. Each species has its own distinct pheromone designed to attract opposite members of its own species. Otherwise, mating would continually occur between species. Nature doesn't make that kind of mistake."

"Sandburg, do you see any human females around? Because there aren't any, okay? I know what I know. And I can smell them all."

I'm staring at Jim with horrified fascination. This is incredible. This flies directly in the face of biological science as we know it today. I wonder how I can test this in the lab. Maybe if I get samples of different pheromones and have Jim wired up....

"Chief! Hey, Chief!" Jim's whacking me on the back of the head. "Don't you go zoning here."

Okay. Scientific curiosity later. Survival now.

"Okay. Well, clearly Nature is intending for Sentinels to reproduce themselves. The pressure of reacting to all the pheromones in the environment would drive the Sentinel into repeated, aggressive mating, thereby insuring... lots of little Sentinels."

"Thank you but I already got the birds and the bees lecture from my Dad when I was twelve. What do I do now?"

My turn to throw disbelieving glances. "Well, Jim, I'm pretty sure you can handle this. I'll just, um... turn my back here. Okay?"

Jim turns bright red again but says with stiff (snicker) dignity, "We're in the middle of a gunfight here, Chief. Or hadn't you noticed?"

"What I noticed, Jim, is that you zoned in the middle of a gunfight. Give me the gun and the extra ammo and take care of business. If you give your Sentinel wiring a happy, it'll ease up on the pressure to mate. I'm serious here, Jim."

Jim stares sullenly down at the ground and mutters.

"What? I can't hear you, Jim."

"I said... I can't do it with you sitting there listening to me."

"Shy?" I smirk at his furious face. "Jim Ellison is shy. That's so cute!"

"Yeah? Think so? Let's see you do it if you think it's so easy, you exhibitionistic little shit!"

"I am so not the point here. My hormones aren't running out of control. I'm not zoning at crucial moments. I'm not packing more woodage than the forest we're stuck in."

"Then what's that, Chief?" Jim points down and I look where he's pointing. Well, shit, when did that happen?

Jim grins, sensing victory. "If I've gotta do it, so do you! Or are you chicken?"

I do believe Jim is challenging me here. Ha! Takes more than that to scare me off. It's been years since I was a horny adolescent but I've participated in my share of circle jerks. I call his bluff and raise him.

"Ready when you are, Jimbo." I pull down my zipper and whip it out, relishing Jim's sudden pallor.

He gulps and stares out over the rocks down at the suspiciously quiet, gun-toting pot growers. "They're in a holding pattern," he tells me. "They've sent somebody back to get reinforcements."

"Back towards town? Where Simon and the guys are staking out the ringleader's farm?" Jim and I exchange wolfish grins. "All right! Simon gets to save the day. That always puts him in a good mood."

I suddenly remember that I've got still got my hard-on in my hand. From the flinch in Jim's eyes, I'd guess he just remembered it too. I decide to tough it out. Learning back against the rocks with my head well below the line-of-fire, I say nonchalantly, "Better take care of this then before all the guys get here and wonder what's going on."

Then I begin to stroke myself. It's a totally surreal moment but, you know, the adrenaline of being shot at really is a turn-on. It doesn't take me long to get into it.

I'm watching Jim out of the corner of my eye. His whole body language is rigid and he's pretending he's staring out over the rocks and down the hill, but his eyes are flickering over in my direction. He's shifting around over there and I'm guessing that, if pheromones were a problem before, he's just about to go crazy now.

"Jesus, Jim. What are you waiting for-- an engraved invitation? Don't make me come over there, man!"

That last threat seems to work. Jim brings his left hand down to his zipper and stops... "Don't look at me, Sandburg."

I turn my head away and close my eyes. "Don't worry, Jim. Looking at you is not the thrill you seem to think it is."

It's actually kind of cool. With my eyes closed, I can hear the birds and smell the pines and my hand on my dick feels fantastic. I can hear Jim's breathing get a little rough and if I strain my ears just a little I can hear the faint rhythmic sounds of Jim jerking himself off. A jolt of pleasure hits me and I moan with how good it is.

Jim gasps. I open my eyes and look over to make sure he's okay. He's staring at my dick with wide eyes and his hand is moving at a pretty fast clip at his own crotch. I'm guessing Jim's a little surprised. I'm a grower, not a shower, and let's just say I've got nothing to be ashamed of.

Jim's pretty into it over there. His dick's looking hard and swollen with a drop of pre-come at the tip. His eyes are heavy-lidded and suddenly he looks up and meets my gaze. He jerks his stare away and to the front, watching for sneaky villains. Then he slowly meets my eyes again.

Circle jerk! I grin at Jim and gradually he smiles back at me.

This isn't the oddest circumstances I've ever done this in. I remember the time I got invited to participate in the coming-of-age ritual for adolescent boys in this local tribe in.... Oh hell, Jim's moaning over there. I watch him avidly as he takes one last look at me, checks around for bad guys, and pumps his hips into his fist. Come spurts onto the grass and Jim shudders, gasping for breath.

Whoa! Not getting left behind here. I speed up the action of my hand, enjoying the sweet friction. Jim's shaking over there, feeling his orgasm and still trying to watch for suspicious movements. Still a Sentinel even at a moment like this. A pang of pure affection hits me and suddenly my dick leaps in my hand. I can feel it coming and I work my dick furiously. Oh god yeah good good GOOD! I'm moaning and my dick's spurting and between the two of us we're having a fucking great time.

When I open my eyes again, Jim's got this odd look on his face. "What?" I ask, wiping my hand on the grass and tucking myself back in.

"Nothing, Chief."

"Did it work? Senses behaving themselves? Pesky pheromones under control?"

Jim smiles affectionately at me and shakes his head. "You're such a weirdo, Sandburg. Nobody else would ever do half the stuff you come up with."

"Ah, but I'm your weirdo. And whatever it takes to protect my Sentinel...."

Jim gives me another odd look, then he stiffens like a dog on point. Turning to me, he grins, "Cavalry's here, Chief."

Cool. The gunfight resumes, only this time we're not the ones getting shot at. Jim calmly lays down cover fire and Major Crimes and the local cops scoop up the crooks nice and tidy. Jim gives me the all clear and we stand up and make our way down the hill.

Simon turns and scowls at us. "You gentlemen forget to check in?"

I poke through some bushes and pull out the cellphone. "Lost it during the rush for cover, Simon."

"I suppose you think that's a reasonable excuse. Well, gentlemen, let me inform you...." Simon proceeds to rips us both a new one.

I'm feeling fantastic. I've still got the afterglow, Jim and I are making faces at each other behind Simon's back, and we've survived another day.

Life is good.

Disclaimer: The Sentinel is owned etc. by Pet Fly, Inc. These pages and the stories on them are not meant to infringe on, nor are they endorsed by, Pet Fly, Inc. and Paramount.


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