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Jim lit the wood stove and leaned back on his haunches, watching with rapt concentration the way the flickering flames danced. He knew that by staring so intently at the fire, he was risking zoning out, but tonight he didn't really care. It was happening a lot lately, and in spite of, or perhaps because of, Blair's help, it was getting harder to deal with. He felt unfocused, adrift, out of control. Over the past few weeks, Jim had wondered how much longer he could function in his capacity as a cop, when his senses were betraying him at every turn.
Of course, it had happened to him before, and whether it was drug-induced or a result of simple male hormones, Blair had always found a way for Jim to deal with it. This time, however, there was no dealing, because Blair was part of the problem.
How was he supposed to tell his partner and guide that he found him unbelievably... distracting? When Blair was near, Jim couldn't concentrate properly. His focus became the sound of Blair's heart, or the distinctive smell of his soap. And, of course, if one actually thought about it, this was inevitable. Blair had used the sound of his own heartbeat, or his voice, as a landmark to guide Jim back from zone outs on many occasions. It stood to reason that, eventually, Blair would become Jim's whole focus.
It didn't help that they spent so much time together outside work. Hell, they even lived together. Perhaps they should have seen it coming. The truth was that Jim was afraid to bring it up. The possibility that Blair might suggest dissolving the partnership frightened Jim more than he would have thought possible. Not just because he needed a guide, but because he needed Blair.
Blair had become more than a guiding hand, more than a reliable partner, more even than just a best friend. Their relationship was unlike any Jim had ever had before. Even when he was married, he hadn't felt this connected, this dependent on another person. Being alone again was not an option Jim would consider, so he kept it to himself in the hopes that it would work itself out.
He got to his feet, wiping the palms of his hands down his pant legs to help equalize his senses, bringing up the sense of touch and dialing down the sense of vision until he felt comfortable again. He wasn't sure when the peace would be shattered by the arrival of his distracting roommate, so he made the most of the unaccustomed silence by going over to the window and looking out over his town.
It was early fall - the nights were a little darker, a little colder. Even now, just after twilight, he could feel the cold outside permeating the glass. Lights were coming on all over the town, as people returned home for the evening, or got ready to face the night shift. Jim sighed deeply, his troubled thoughts marring the otherwise perfect moment of peace.
When Blair threw open the door to the loft and bustled noisily into the room, Jim actually jumped. Normally, no one, and especially not Blair Sandburg with his 'irritatingly' loud heartbeat and 'overpoweringly strong' herbal soap, would have been able to sneak up on him like that. It was more evidence that things were not as they should be with Jim's senses.
"Jim, ya gotta help me, man..." Blair had dropped his jacket and bag on the floor as he came in, heading straight for the kitchen cabinets in an almost panicked manner. "...do we have any paprika?"
Jim turned back to the window and gave the cityscape one last whimsical glance before closing the blinds. "We're out of paprika, Sandburg. Why?"
Blair's head bobbed up momentarily from behind the island unit, where he had been rummaging through cupboards. "Shit! I really need paprika, and basil oil too. We can't be out of basil oil?"
Jim's hearing had begun playing up the moment Blair walked into the room. He was fluctuating between having to strain to hear what Blair was saying and having to filter out the sounds of the other man's digestive system gurgling. He shook his head a little and wandered over to the kitchen. "And again, I ask you, why?"
Blair stood, letting the cupboard doors slam, and ran a hand through his hair. Jim was hit with the aroma of Blair's shampoo and took an involuntary step backwards, but the younger man didn't seem to notice. "I promised her I would cook Paprika Chicken." he stated, obviously thinking that it explained everything. Jim raised an inquiring eyebrow and Blair finally made an attempt to make himself coherent. "I met this girl over at Rainier. Polly Stewart, she is THE hottest, most breathtaking, most intelligent, most..."
"I get the picture, Chief."
"Well, we got talking and I invited her over for Paprika Chicken. She said it was her favorite meal, only we don't have any paprika..."
"Or any chicken."
"No? Shit, she'll be here in half an hour."
Jim laid a restraining hand on Blair's shoulder, partly to steady the younger man and partly to keep him from escaping. "Blair, you invited a girl over here on a night when you knew I'd be here? Do we have to go over the ground rules again?"
Blair met his eyes for the first time that evening, with a look of expectant excitement. "Ah... I was hoping you could help me out a little, Jim?"
"Sorry, Blair. I'm not interested in that sort of thing," said Jim shortly, turning back towards the living room. Blair darted around him to block his way.
"That sort of...? Oh! No, no, man. Not a threesome! No, I just hoped you could use your senses to find out if she's really interested in me, because I couldn't tell at the University. See, she's doing a paper on that whole 'thin blue line' thing, but didn't get a ride along within a police force so her stuff is purely theoretical, and she might just have been trying to get information out of me, rather than coming on to me, you know?"
Jim shook his head. Sometimes, it seemed that Blair could breathe through his skin. How else could he squeeze so many words into one sentence without turning blue? This was weird, even for Sandburg. Before he could think of a way to refuse politely, Blair was heading out the door.
"If she gets here before I get back from the Seven Eleven, keep her entertained. Okay?" he spoke over his shoulder while pulling on his coat. "No amusing police anecdotes..." he threw open the door, "...she'll only quote them in her thesis." And with that he was gone, leaving Jim alone to wonder what had ever happened to 'just one week.'
~~>~~
Blair hurried up the stairs, his grip on the brown paper bag just beginning to slip as he finally made it to the top. Clumsily, he braced the bag between his hip and the wall while using his free hand to fumble in his coat pocket for his door keys. He hoped that Polly had arrived already, because that way, Jim would be too polite to call him on his dubious 'plan'. He knew that what he was asking was far from ethical. Jim was his test subject and, as such, should not be asked to use his senses for nefarious purposes, like, for example, to see if a woman has the hots for his guide.
But Blair knew that the minute Jim saw Polly, he would understand. She was, not to put too fine a point on it, *well* out of Sandburg's league. At five foot eight in her bare feet, with a figure right out of Greek mythology, and hair so black that it was almost blue, she was *the* most breathtaking woman he had ever met.
She might have been a little on the young side, at 19 years old, but she had definitely been round the block a few times, so he wasn't that worried about corrupting an innocent. In fact, rumor had it that she could teach the anthropologist a thing or two. She seemed to be giving off all the right vibes, but Blair wanted to be sure before he made a complete fool of himself. Yeah, Jim would understand.
He leaned into the door, pushing it open with his shoulder and froze in the doorway. His partner, his Sentinel, his friend, his clearly insane jerk of a roommate, Jim, had Polly's face pressed up against the wall, with one hand twisted up her back, as he slammed his standard issue handcuffs on her. The brown paper bag hit the floor with a thud.
"Jim?!!"
Immediately Jim whirled to face Sandburg, a sheepish grin slowly taking over his face. Polly was grinning too. He had to assume that things were not quite what they had seemed. Jim unlocked the cuffs and stuffed them into his hip pocket.
"Polly and I got into a little 'disagreement' about the use of undue force in the arrest of suspects. I was just showing her..."
"What it felt like to eat wall?" drawled Blair, bending to retrieve the fallen groceries. Polly hurried over to help, dropping a chaste kiss on his cheek.
"Did you think your pocket cop was arresting me, Blair?" she purred as she stuffed salad greens back into the bag. Blair felt the heat rise in his cheeks. Jim would not appreciate being referred to as a 'pocket' anything. One quick glance at the narrowed eyes and grim mouth pulled into a tight line, confirmed it.
"Ah, Polly... thanks for coming over. You, ah... you wanna give me a hand in the kitchen?"
They got to their feet, and Polly cast a sultry look over her shoulder at the grim-faced cop. "Sure, Blair. Jim was just about to take a shower anyway." Blair let his eyebrows rise into his hairline, but refused to take the bait. Polly was incredibly flirty, so just about everything she said seemed to drip with sexual innuendo. That was part of the reason Blair couldn't figure out if she was really interested in him. She talked like this to everyone.
Jim cleared his throat and nodded towards the bathroom. "I'm going to hit some of the old vice squad haunts. Give you two some privacy."
"Jim, that won't be necessary!" Blair followed his friend up the narrow hall between his room and the bathroom and crowded into the tiny space behind him. Lowering his voice to a whisper he hissed, "...c'mon Jim, please? I need you to help me out here."
Jim braced his hands on the white porcelain sink and closed his eyes. The sentinel could almost *taste* Blair's arousal. The air was thick with it. He wasn't surprised that his roommate had a terminal case of lust when it came to Polly Stewart, but in such a tight space, however, Blair's answering rush of pheromones were making Jim... jumpy. He needed to get Blair out of here... soon. "Alright, Chief, I'll do it this once. But this is the last time. Okay?"
"Thanks, buddy." Blair slapped his friend on the shoulder and headed back to his girlfriend. Jim pulled the shirt off over his head and turned on the shower. It was going to be a long night.
~~>~~
Actually, it turned out to be far worse than he could ever have suspected. Polly Stewart *was* interested in Blair all right, but she was also interested in Jim. Every time Blair excused himself to see to the food, or to use the john, she was all over Jim like a rash. The Sentinel was having a hard time understanding how Blair could be getting mixed signals from the woman. She wanted sex, plain and simple, anyone could see that. And it didn't seem to matter much with whom.
Jim heard the toilet flush, and hastily moved Polly's perfectly manicured fingers from his thigh, where they had been rapidly heading towards his groin. Blair, oblivious as usual, grinned at them happily, and went to check on dinner.
"Well, it's as ready as it's gonna get." he grinned, pleased at how well Jim seemed to be getting on with Polly. Jim slipped into his favorite seat, the one that afforded him a good view of the front door, and Blair took the seat facing him, leaving Polly to sit at the head of the table, between the two men. Jim bit down hard on the inside of his lip, when he felt her foot bumping against his under the table. He was *way* too old to be playing footsie.
The first course was a simple goat cheese salad in some exotic dressing that Jim enjoyed more than he had expected to. Polly behaved herself, and Jim began to think he had been imagining the footsie incident of earlier. But no sooner had Blair gotten up to take the chicken out of the oven, than Jim felt a bare foot running up his calf. He shifted uncomfortably and tried to move his leg out of Polly's reach.
"So Jim," she drawled with an exaggerated Texan twang, "Blair tells me that you won 'cop of the year'. Quite an achievement."
Jim kept his eyes resolutely fixed on his partner who was ladling out the chicken. How was he supposed to get himself out of this nightmare? He was only human, and Polly's advances were having an effect on him. He squirmed in his seat, trying to ease the pressure of his trousers against his fledgling erection.
"Ah, yeah. Th... thanks," he spluttered, as the bare toes made a bee-line for his crotch. Jim leapt to his feet, his chair almost crashing to the floor in his haste.
"Music!"
Blair stopped ladling to stare at his partner in confusion. "What music?" he asked suspiciously.
"We should have music. While we eat. Helps... the digestion, so I've heard. Any requests?"
Jim managed to make it across to the CD player, without tripping over his own feet. His senses were reeling. The amount of pheromones in the air was making him quite dizzy, and he could clearly detect Blair's arousal, now stronger than ever after several glasses of wine. Polly leaned back in her chair. "I don't suppose you have 'Mandy', do you?"
"Barry Manilow?" asked Jim, pleased that he would be able to accommodate her request. He still had some of Carolyn's albums, and he was sure there was some Manilow in there.
"Barry who?" she asked innocently. "It's by Westlife, isn't it?"
Blair snorted and began serving out the brown rice. "Oops, Jim, showing your age now."
Jim glowered and jammed the disk in anyway.
~~>~~
Dinner continued to be a nightmare. Jim really didn't need to use enhanced senses to see that Polly wanted only one thing. He was going to have to tell Blair, eventually, that his would-be-girlfriend was a bit of a slut, but he kept putting it off. He knew this was probably going to hurt Blair and he didn't want to have to do that. By the time they retired to the living room with another bottle of wine, Jim's nerves were twanging.
The atmosphere in the loft was charged with sexual energy as Blair curled up on one couch next to Polly. Jim sat alone in the single armchair, and pretended to be chilling out, listening to the music with his eyes closed. He wondered how soon he could make his excuses, and go to bed.
He tried to focus his hearing on the soft rock music playing in the background, but Polly's giggles, and Blair's attempts to shush her, were simply too distracting. He opened his eyes a fraction and wished he hadn't. Blair glanced his way, obviously making sure that Jim wasn't watching, then leaned over and kissed Polly softly on the lips. Jim felt his groin tighten painfully. The wood stove provided the only light in the room, and its orange glow was reflected from Polly's raven black hair. It seemed almost alive, moving, shimmering in the firelight.
Blair's auburn curls seemed to take on a life of their own too, coiling like snakes around his animated face. His eyes were closed, thick black lashes that would make any woman jealous, ghosting across pale cheeks. Jim chewed on his lip, trying not to zone out on Blair's fucking lashes, because that would be just too embarrassing to explain.
Polly's smile became predatory, and launching herself onto Blair, she knocked him onto his back and straddled him, her lips stifling his cry of protest. Jim couldn't help watching. He bit down hard on the inside of his lip to hold in the groan.
After a few seconds of ineffectual struggling, Blair managed to tear his lips free and he glanced at his partner again. "Polly!" he hissed, "Jim..."
"He's sleeping, Blair. Relax."
"Jim!" Blair yelled, and the Sentinel had no option but to open his eyes fully. This time, he covered his groan by turning it into a jaw-breaking yawn.
Jim hoped that neither of them would notice his tenting trousers, as he got quickly to his feet. "I think I'll hit the sack. It was nice meeting you, Polly." Jim extended his hand politely and she shook it, holding on a little longer than strictly necessary.
"Likewise," she answered. Jim walked towards the stairs but hesitated at the bottom.
"Blair, a word?"
In his room, Jim sat on the bed and waited for Sandburg to appear. The younger man took the stairs two at a time, a broad grin illuminating his face. "It's okay, Jim. I think I figured out that she's interested all by myself."
Jim patted the mattress until Blair shrugged and sat beside him. "Does Polly have a place of her own, Chief?"
"Nope, she stays at the residence. Shares a dorm with five other girls. Why?"
Jim rubbed the back of his neck nervously. He could still smell Blair's arousal. After the scene on the couch, it was almost overpowering to his already sensitive senses. This wasn't going to be easy. "Blair, I need to ask you to hold off on the seduction tonight. No matter how quiet you think you're being, I *am* going to hear it."
Blair paled a little. He honestly hadn't thought about it. Now he could see why Jim had made all those ground rules in the first place. "Okay, sure, Jim. I'll... ah, I'll make some excuse."
"Thanks, Chief."
Jim got up and undid his buckle so Blair hastily headed for the stairs, trying valiantly to hide his disappointment. Jim undressed, determined that once Blair had got rid of Polly, he would have a little talk with his friend about what sort of women he was getting himself involved with.
~~>~~
Jim pulled the pillow over his head and groaned into it. Blair was fighting a losing battle down there. Thanks to his enhanced hearing, Jim knew how hard Blair had tried to hold off Polly's advances but, damn, the woman was good. Jim's own erection rubbed painfully against his boxers and he had no option but to throw back the covers and pull it free of the friction. He groaned again. Even the cool evening air caressing his burning flesh was unbelievably arousing.
Downstairs, he heard Blair moan loudly. He couldn't help himself, he rolled carefully onto his stomach, wincing a little when the action trapped his painfully erect cock against the mattress, and peered down into the living room. Blair was lying on his back in front of the stove, his body bathed in an orange nimbus of light. Polly sat astride him, her thick sweater and slacks were gone leaving her clad only in flimsy underwear. Blair's hands cupped her breasts; his thumbs lightly stroking her engorged nipples through the lacy material. She rocked against him, rotating her hips to grind her ass against his groin and he moaned again.
Jim couldn't have dragged his eyes away from the scene unfolding in his living room if his life depended on it. Blair was still wearing his jeans, but Polly had managed to get his shirt off, and had pushed his undershirt up to get access to his chest. Jim watched her tongue laving Blair's nipples and felt his own nipples tingling in empathy. When Blair arched his back, gasping with pleasure, Jim felt himself harden even further. Polly wriggled down, trailing her tongue over Blair's stomach, stopping only when she reached the button of his jeans.
Jim pulled up his leg, trying to ease the pressure on his aching cock, just as Blair cried out, the younger man quickly covering his mouth with his hand. Jim's eyes widened as he saw Polly unzip Blair's jeans and haul them roughly down his legs. Blair's weeping cock sprang free and bobbed about on his stomach. To his credit, Blair was still trying to get Polly to stop. But it was obvious to Jim that he was failing miserably. His half-hearted protests died in his throat a moment later when Polly swallowed him whole.
Now Jim's hips were moving in earnest, pressing his cock down into the mattress, his heart hammering at the sight of Blair and Polly going for it on the living room floor. He bit down hard into his pillow when Blair's body arched again, his eyes fixed on the exposed expanse of Blair's throat. Polly got to her feet and quickly stripped off the remainder of her clothes then went down on Blair again. He didn't stand a chance.
Rolling onto her back, she urged Blair on top, and Jim got an unobstructed view of his roommate's naked ass, the pale skin contracting rhythmically in time to the motion of his hips. Jim's vision zoomed in and, for a moment, the movement of Blair's hips and the sound of his half-stifled moans were his entire focus. Then, as he dialed it back, his eyes met Polly's. She was looking right up at him, and smiling.
"Come and join us, Jim," she called.
Jim gasped, a sudden and completely unwanted image burning itself into the back of his retinas. He saw himself down there, in front of the fire, with Blair, and he was... Oh, God... he was.... Jim found himself frantically humping the mattress, fueled by a vision of himself and Blair fucking like wild animals. Strangely, Polly didn't figure too much in the erotic fantasy, but Jim was beyond rationalizing. As his cock exploded all over the sheets, he had to stuff the pillow in his mouth again to keep from crying out.
Blair froze. Had Polly really just invited Jim to join them? He stared at her flushed face and wondered what the hell he was doing... He knew Jim had to have heard the offer, but thankfully, the sentinel had remained in his room. Blair had almost been so far gone in his own gratification, that if Jim materialized in front of him with a tube of astroglide and an economy box of 'ribbed ticklers', Blair would happily have rolled over and gone woof. He decided that 'dog' was a very good description for him indeed. But some thread of sanity remained. His conscience raised its head, gave a little whistle, and reminded him that Jim didn't deserve this.
The thought of hurting Jim went a long way towards dousing the flames of passion and once she saw that the 'Sandburg Sex Store' was closed for the night, Polly became disinclined to stick around. Blair called a cab for her and waved good-bye to perhaps the most talented lay of his life, with the possible exception of Adam Forester, his first male lover, who had done things with his tongue that were illegal in several states!
~~>~~
"Jim, you awake?" Blair almost wished that Jim wouldn't answer, so that he could sneak back downstairs with his tail between his legs like the dog that he was. What he had almost done was unforgivable. Jim had practically begged him to get rid of Polly, but like some sex-starved teenager, he had let the woman get the upper hand. So to speak.
And the worst of it was, he had probably just fucked up the best friendship of his life for what would never have been more than a one-night stand. Polly was hot all right, but she was definitely not long-term relationship material. He should have felt used and abused, but to tell the truth, he was a little relieved. She may have looked like a goddess, but she had the habits of a cheap whore.
So now he stood hesitantly at the side of Jim's bed, wishing that he had taken a moment to put his over shirt back on before coming up here. He could make out the contrast of Jim's dark head against the pale yellow pillows, but couldn't tell if his eyes were open. A tiny sigh of resignation gave him his answer. Jim sat up and reached for the bedside lamp, the sudden brightness making Blair flinch. Or perhaps it was the look of barely contained anger in Jim's eyes that elicited that particular reaction.
Now that he was here, Blair couldn't think of anything to say. He felt guilty about what he had almost done, and afraid that Jim might not forgive him this time. Finally, Blair swore, and flopped down on the bed to sit next to Jim. "I'm really sorry. Okay?" There was little point in trying to qualify the apology with excuses.
Jim crossed his arms over his chest. He had heard the front door closing a few minutes ago, and knew that they were finally alone in the loft. What he wanted right now, more than anything else, was for Blair to go away. The guy reeked of sex, and Jim's senses, already on overdrive, were making him feel positively light-headed. But, oh no, that would be too much to ask. Not only had Blair almost single-handedly made him come all over his freshly laundered sheets, but now the kid seemed determined to make amends. Jim shifted a little under the covers in an attempt to avoid the uncomfortable wet spot, and directed the full force of his righteous indignation at Blair Sandburg.
"Do you have any idea how painful it is to lie here listening to my own 'live action porn flick' without being able to switch it off? DO you? Of course you don't, Blair. How could you?"
Blair stared at his bare feet, dangling a couple of inches above the floor, and tried not to squirm. He had taken trips to the Principal's office that were less humiliating than this. Jim slammed his hand down on the bed right next to Blair's, making the younger man jump.
"Damn it, Sandburg... you say you understand my Sentinel abilities but you don't really know what it's like. If you did, you would never have pulled a stunt like that on me."
"C'mon, Jim, I tried... "
Jim's eyes narrowed and he shook his head. "Yeah, sure ya did, Chief. Must have been difficult to call for a cab with your dick in her mouth."
Blair flushed crimson. So, not only had Jim heard the proceedings, he had also seen a fair portion of the action. Tonight just kept getting better and better. He could see that Jim was mad at him, and he had every right to be, but Blair thought he could also detect a faint undercurrent of amusement in his friend's tone. Licking his lips nervously, Blair hitched one leg up onto the bed.
"Are we still okay?" he asked, hoping that he was reading the situation right. If not... Well, he could be packed in an hour. Wouldn't be the first time he had been kicked out of somewhere. Hell, who was he trying to kid here? If Jim kicked him out now... he found he didn't want to think about that. Jim was staring at him intently.
"Why, Blair?"
He couldn't hold the gaze. "I don't know, Jim. I didn't do it on purpose. She just pushed all my buttons."
To be honest, watching Jim's reaction to Polly's antics had pushed a few of Blair's buttons too. He had never officially *told* Jim he was bisexual. He had flirted with his friend outrageously on enough occasions to know that the big guy was as straight as a board. And by now, surely Jim knew that Blair was as straight as a corkscrew? It didn't stop him fantasizing, and it didn't stop him hoping. Seeing Jim getting hot under the collar had been a tremendous turn on for the younger man.
Blair squeezed the bridge of his nose, screwed up his eyes and shook his head. No way was he going to admit to Jim how he felt. That was one sure-fire way of getting himself evicted.
"I'm sorry to have put you through that, and it won't happen again. Assuming you're not throwing me out, that is?" Blair meant for it to come out as a joke, but somehow the nervous catch in his voice made him sound vulnerable.
"I mean I would totally understand if you felt... it's just that this place - " his hand gesture encompassed the whole of the loft. "I didn't know there was such a thing as 'permanent' when I was a kid. Naomi and I never hung around too long in any one place, you know?" He glanced up, and at Jim's nod of understanding, he continued. "When you didn't kick me out after that first week, I figured if I kept my head down, didn't annoy you too much, you might... let me, you know... stay? I guess this place is like... home. I've never had a real home before."
Jim placed his hand over Blair's as they twitched nervously in the younger man's lap. "This will always be your home, Chief. For as long as you want it to be."
Sapphire blue eyes met and held Jim's gaze. The air seemed to be charged with electricity, or perhaps it was just the heady rush of relief Blair was feeling. He still had a home. He still had a friend. Anything else was unimportant. Never again would Blair let his lust come between himself and Jim.
Jim, on the other hand, was not doing so well. He was taken aback at how hot Blair's skin was under his hand. He had the urge to lick his suddenly parched lips, but his mouth had mysteriously gone dry. He had also been staring at Blair way too long, but the moment continued to stretch between them. The sexual tension buzzing in the air was even stronger now, despite the fact that Polly was long gone. He cleared his throat, managing to drag his eyes away from Blair's, to fix instead on their still entwined fingers.
Jim had always been aware of his roommate's 'lack' of sexual preference. He was even aware that in the beginning, at least, Blair had been attracted to him. When he failed to respond, Blair had stopped sending out signals, and they had gone on to forge an enduring friendship, which had lasted much longer than any sexual encounter either of them had ever had... and Jim was including his marriage here too. The friendship was important to Jim, more important that anything.
Jim closed his eyes and squeezed the warm hand under his, feeling the quickening of Blair's pulse. He withdrew his hand, deciding that the deep and meaningful stuff could wait for another time. Blair had forgiven him for being an overbearing bastard, and that was enough to ask for one night. "For what it's worth... my senses tell me Polly definitely wanted you, Chief."
"No kiddin'?" Blair snorted, "But then, turns out I wasn't the only one she wanted. I swear, Jim, I had no idea she was into threesomes." Blair reached out and patted Jim's bare knee, sending tiny jolts of electricity coursing thought the older man's leg.
Jim's eyes flew up to meet Blair's again, noticing for the first time that the blue had been almost completely replaced with black. He gulped... once. Twice. It was no good, his throat remained completely parched. Jim was definitely being affected by the smell of sex that seemed to hang in the air.
Blair noticed too. His eyes caught a movement and drifted down to stare in disbelief at Jim's groin. He blinked in surprise at the very obvious erection trying to escape Jim's boxers. It was bad enough that he had spent the last four hours in a constant state of semi arousal, without having to sit next to the star of his most outlandish sexual fantasies, pretending to ignore his impressive woody. But instead of doing the sensible thing, and heading for his own room, Blair pointed at Jim's groin and delivered an intelligent and witty piece of repartee.
"Say, Jim, is that a gun in your pocket, or...?"
Jim glanced down at his tenting boxers and blushed. "Sorry, Chief, it's the pheromones. I... ah, I'd better go do something about it." As Jim was about to get up and go to the bathroom, Blair impulsively reached out and grabbed himself a large portion of Jim.
"Here, let me get this one," he said softly, watching Jim's startled expression.
Jim was struggling with indecision; on the one hand, it felt *beyond* incredible to be touched like this but, on the other hand, the very fact that it was Blair doing the touching was freaking him out. And, oh boy, Blair knew what he was doing all right.
"Jesus. H. Christ, Blair. It isn't the check at a restaurant; it's my dick," Jim gasped, and then rational thought became a thing of the past. He closed his eyes and let instinct take over. Everything was all right now; his guide would take care of him. Blair would take care of him.
"So it is," said Blair thickly, unable to drag his eyes away from Jim's slightly parted lips. He had no idea what the hell had possessed him, but now that he had Jim's dick in his hand, albeit sheathed in the soft flannel material of the big guy's shorts, he found that he couldn't let go.
Jim's eyes opened again but had lost their focus, and he was breathing a little unsteadily. But more importantly, he hadn't punched Blair in the mouth yet. Which meant he didn't exactly hate this. Blair pressed down a little more firmly, swallowing hard as Jim shivered at the intimate touch.
Blair gently moved his hand in almost soothing motions over the smooth fabric beneath his fingers. Jim wasn't objecting, and now he sat perfectly still, eyes closed, head tilted backwards, finally letting go of his control. Blair tightened his grip a little more, feeling a fresh stab of desire shoot though him at Jim's sharp intake of breath. He leaned down, extending his tongue to swipe over Jim's pebble-hard nipple, then blew on the tight nub. Jim's hips rose slowly, forcing his erection farther into Blair's fist.
Blair couldn't believe this was happening. Ever since that first meeting in his office, when Detective James Ellison had pinned him so effortlessly against the wall, Blair had been fantasizing about this, but never once believing that it could actually happen.
His eyes roamed freely over Jim's chest, his mouth gone completely dry with anticipation. Fingers slipped inside the damp boxers and he stopped thinking about how impossible this was, about how unlikely it was; he stopped thinking about anything at all. And he started 'feeling'.
Jim rolled his hips and groaned. The sound of Blair's heartbeat thundered in his ear as the younger man pressed closer, the smell of his arousal settling like a blanket around Jim. He felt the friction of soft denim rubbing against his legs, and unable to keep still, he raised one hand, sliding it slowly into the riot of soft curls framing Blair's face. Fingers closed on Blair's nape, massaging and squeezing warm flesh, movements mirroring Blair's more intimate touch.
Blair forced his eyes open and looked down at his hand, at the vulnerability he held in his palm. Jim was bent backwards like a bow, the back of his head brushing the covers fitfully. His skin was slick and salty beneath Blair's questing lips.
With a small shiver, Jim fell back onto the bed in mute surrender, and reached out to pull Blair down on top of him. His fingers buried themselves in Blair's thick curls again, making fists in his hair, on the verge of causing pain.
Blair's tongue darted out to savor, lingering on the experience of tasting his sentinel. Moving downwards, never relinquishing his grip, he licked away a bead of creamy moisture from the head of Jim's cock, nearly losing all semblance of control when Jim grunted and threw back his head, his hips bucking furiously into the tightness of Blair's hand.
Blair felt his own desire raging, sweat dripping from his forehead. He moved slowly upwards again, trailing the tip of his tongue over first one taut nipple, then the other, until finally he sank his teeth into Jim's throat, feeling the rapid tattoo of his friend's heart thrumming beneath his lips.
Blair could hear Jim whispering, but couldn't understand the words. Perhaps it was the language of the Chopec. He neither knew nor cared. All that mattered was that Jim was with him; they were finally going to do this, finally going to take the last step. Even if this turned out to be some never-to-be-repeated foray into the guide/sentinel relationship, if this wonderful, magical night was a once only experience, Blair was going to make it one of the best damn nights of Jim Ellison's life.
Finally releasing his grip, Blair moved his hands upwards, fingers trailing languorously over sweat-slicked skin, to cup the beautiful, beloved face of his sentinel. Jim's eyes opened, and Blair held his gaze, with one look, telling Jim how he felt more effectively than a lifetime of words could ever have done. Jim felt small, unworthy, insignificant in the blinding light of Blair's love. For an endless moment, they looked into each other's souls and found themselves reflected there.
Then their lips met. Blair began trembling, every inch of him pressed against Jim, but it still wasn't close enough. He wanted to crawl inside the other man's skin, fuse their bodies together and become one entity. He felt Jim's tongue, hot and insistent against his lips and opened for him, welcoming him in. A bolt of pure lust streaked through him, making him shake. It felt like he was being electrocuted. Every muscle contracted, every nerve ending buzzed.
Then it became impossible for either of them to hold back any longer. Ragged breaths sounded inhumanly loud. Hearts pounded to a rhythm as old as life itself. Mouths gasped half-formed words of need and longing as their bodies writhed against each other in frantic desperation.
Licking a hot, wet trail across trembling stomach muscles, Blair tongued Jim's naval, gasping at the way Jim surged upwards at his touch, babbling and incoherent with need. He felt moist heat against his cheek and turned his head to lick slowly down the length of the leaking shaft pressing against his face. Almost in slow motion, he opened his lips and sunk downwards, scraping teeth gently over sensitive flesh.
"B...lair!" cried Jim, on a rush of expelled air, "Jesus, Blair!" His head rolled restlessly back and forth on the pillows. It was surreal, and yet conversely, so very real. Jim's hands flailed against the sheets, fingers balling into tight fists, the muscles in his forearms contracting powerfully.
A long low moan that seemed to come from the depths of his soul escaped him. He was close, so very close. Jim had been panting, but now only tiny grunts escaped his lips and he thrust upwards to meet the hot wet mouth above him.
"Oh! God, please, Blair... please!" he begged, unsure what he was asking for, only knowing that he needed some kind of connection. Blair redoubled his efforts, reaching down to roll Jim's balls gently, knowing the moment his sentinel was about to come, by their tightening.
Jim gasped, threw back his head and cried out as the orgasm slammed through him, wave after wave of pleasure hitting, fingers twisting in the sheets, head banging against the pillows again and again, until finally he collapsed bonelessly onto the bed.
~~>~~
It took quite some time, but eventually Jim's eyes seemed to regain some focus. He squinted blearily at his guide. "Hi."
"Welcome back to Earth," grinned Blair, nuzzling Jim's exposed throat. He could feel that Jim's heart was still beating too fast. Jim seemed to notice then, that although he was stark naked, Blair was still in possession of his jeans and undershirt. Blair also noticed the imbalance and reached for the hem of his shirt, pleased when Jim's warm fingers reached up to help. Now bare chested, Blair wriggled closer.
"Jim, how would you feel about picking up the next check?" he asked wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. Jim ran his fingers up the soft denim covering Blair's leg, stopping at the waistband to reach round and unfasten the button.
"Let's go Dutch," he growled, gyrating his hips slowly to graphically illustrate not only his readiness and willingness, but also his ability.
"I'm astounded," gasped Blair, eyes wide in surprise, "it takes me at least twenty minutes to recover."
Jim decided not to tell Blair that under normal circumstances it took him an hour. He had no idea why his body was reacting like this, but at his age, it was a blessing to be able to get it up twice in one night never mind twice in one hour.
A moment of sobriety hit the sentinel then. A moment of sanity, in the midst of all the insanity. "Chief, everything's changed hasn't it?"
Blair stopped running his hands over Jim's ass and looked him right in the eye. "Has it, Jim?"
With a great sense of surprise, Jim realized that no, nothing had changed. They would still work together, and still live together. They would still share every aspect of their lives. And they had always loved each other. But there was one thing that *had* to change.
"Blair, this might be a little difficult for you to grasp, but I believe in monogamy. If you and I are gonna...
"Fuck?"
"Make love, then I have to be the only meal on the menu for you. Otherwise..."
"Relax Jim. My diet is strictly pork from now on."
"Hey - Sandburg, I let your mother get away with calling me a pig. I don't have to take it from you."
Blair meshed his fingers with Jim's, and looked him in the eye, all traces of humor vanishing.
"Seriously, Jim? I fell for you long ago but I didn't think there was a chance. For you, I would give up everything. Don't you know that?
The sentinel gazed upon the honest truth shining out from Blair's eyes and was almost blinded by its intensity. "Yeah, I guess I do know that, Chief. But, damn, it feels weird. Those three little words *do* make a difference."
Blair wriggled free of his jeans and directed Jim's attention to the matter in hand. "Three little words - 'Blow Me Jim' - yeah, works for me!"
"Fuck you, Sandburg!"
"All in good time, Jim, all in good time."