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This time it took nearly fifteen minutes for Blair to regain the ability to put together a complete sentence. It was a new record, achieved only after three weeks of close attention to detail, and Jim felt he had the right to be a bit smug about it.
He savored every moment of his victory: the long, hoarse, heartfelt "Ji-i-im," the minutes it took for Blair's panting and gasping to slow into normal breathing (hampered by the effort he expended in dragging Jim back up to face level), the incremental mastery of multi-word phrases (from "shit" to "oh man" to "oh my god" to "gonna kill me, Jim"), and finally the return of his usual volubility, signaled by suddenly opened eyes and a still-breathless, "Ah, man, how the fuck did you get so good at that?"
"Practice, Chief," he answered, and even he could hear the smirk in his voice. Blair responded, as expected, by smacking him on the back of the head.
"Well, duh," he said. "That much is pretty obvious. My question is, just where would you be getting all this practice?"
"Hey, you know I was in the army. Look through your books and I'll bet you can tell me all about all-male closed societies."
"Shit, in the army? Really? Would have figured you for the kind of guy that got sucked, not the kind of guy that sucked."
"Sandburg, you watch too many movies," Jim growled. "What, you think there's some kind of height-based food chain or something?"
"Well, yeah," Blair said. "That's the way it always looked from down here, man. I mean, if it had ever crossed my mind to join the army, which needless to say it did not, I gotta tell you that when I was weighing the, like, pros and cons, a permanently dislocated jaw would definitely have been a major con."
"And you figured your jaw would have been dislocated by guys like me because ..." prompted Jim.
"Well, not guys like you, per se," Blair backpedaled. "But guys your size, yeah, I've made it a point to stay away from guys your size en masse because I wanted to avoid, like, getting lessons in something I didn't really want to learn."
"Says the guy who has been working with a bunch of big, bad cops for years now and yet has never sucked cock in his life, am I right?" Jim said. Blair had the grace to blush. "Says the guy who now just might have a reason to reconsider whether or not he wants to learn, am I right?"
"Why, you wanna play like I'm in your barracks and you can teach me?" Blair teased.
Jim sat up abruptly. "No," he said shortly. "I wanna eat some breakfast." And he pulled his jeans on and yanked up the zipper with reckless disregard for anything valuable that might be in its path.
"Jim?" Blair had to walk fast to keep up with him on the way down the stairs. "What did I say?"
"I don't want to talk about it," Jim said, flopping down on the couch and refusing to look at Blair. "I want to eat some pancakes and go buy a new power drill and come home and put up some shelves and I do not want to talk about it."
"Aw, man, you think I think you're some kind of rapist or something?" Blair put his hand on Jim's arm, and when Jim shook it off, he put it back. "Come on. I know you're not like that."
Jim looked at him. "You think not." Then he looked away, and only because Blair was paying close attention did he hear Jim mumble, "thought about it."
Blair took a quick breath. "Thought about ... making me?"
"Thought about ... teaching you," Jim said, still not looking at him, and then he slid down until his head was resting on the back of the couch and stared at the ceiling. "Thought about if you had been there, you know, a new recruit, what, nineteen years old with some stupid haircut and a hole in your ear where they made you take the earring out, and if I did it to you and you liked it then I could tell you how to do it too and I'm sorry, Blair, I know it's ..."
"Jim, man, that's pretty ..."
"kind of gross, when you think about it, that I'd be thinking about ..."
"pretty fucking hot, man, I can't believe ..."
"doing that to you, and I'm ... what?" Jim lifted his head. Blair wasn't looking threatened or disgusted. Blair was looking affectionate and amused and -- oh shit. Hungry.
"So you wanna show me the ropes, huh?" Blair said softly. "Wanna be the one who teaches me how?"
"Oh, god," Jim said. He had seen that look and heard that voice in a hundred surreptitious visions, back when Blair had been his roommate and his friend and his hottest fantasy, and had at the same time been chatting up two and three pretty women a day as though to bring home to Jim just how hopeless his obsession was. But now it turned out it wasn't hopeless at all, he didn't know how, some genie had given him his wish and he could taste Blair any time he wanted, and Blair would touch him and kiss him and jerk him off in any room, any day, twice a day, murmuring soft, obscene compliments and husky encouragements in his ear, and it should have been enough, he shouldn't be dreaming about that next step, but now Blair was saying he might ...
" 's all right, man, I wanna learn," Blair said -- and then, more aggressively, "You think you should be the one to teach me, huh?"
Never let it be said, Jim thought, that I turned down a fantasy when it fell into my lap -- and he looked Blair over, slowly, and said, "You could learn from worse, kid."
"What are you, big guy, some kind of expert?"
Jim leaned a little into his personal space. "Hey, you had a sample. You be the judge."
"Mm, yeah," Blair said thoughtfully. "I could say you had a certain ... skill. 'course I could always do with another demonstration ..."
"Uh-uh," said Jim. "Wouldn't want to interfere with your ... motivation." He cupped a palm over Blair's motivation and grinned. "You hang onto that, kid. It'll keep your mind from wandering."
To Jim's knowledge, Blair had never called him "big guy" before. For that matter, it had been almost a year since Jim had called Blair "kid" -- it began to seem disrespectful to someone who had been in the hospital because of him more than once -- but Blair wasn't objecting. Blair was, in fact, already breathing quickly, his eyes bright with amusement and arousal. "Get up," Jim said, and Blair stood up so fast he swayed a little on his feet. "Come with me." And before his treacherous mind could offer up any second thoughts, he went and stood in the hallway outside the bathroom, leaning his back against the metal door and looking at a confused and aroused Blair.
"Knees, kid," he said, and Blair gracefully dropped to the floor.
The first thing he did was scrabble, with nervous clumsiness, for Jim's fly button. Novices. Jim grinned and reached down to still those hands.
"What?"
"Don't be in such a hurry, kid," Jim said lazily. "We got a nice private place, lots of time ... take it slow. You'd be surprised how much sensation can travel through denim."
That earned him a deep breath and a sudden fisting of the hands on his hips. Before he had time to add any more advice, Blair pressed his face into the warm denim and inhaled deeply, then began to nuzzle Jim's cock through his jeans.
Shit. Kid caught on fast.
Then Jim felt teeth, still dangerous despite the protection of the fabric, and he leaned his head back and closed his eyes and stopped thinking for a while.
Blair teased him with lips and teeth and hands until he was breathless, then leaned back. Jim opened his eyes with some difficulty and looked down. Blair was panting, his cheeks pink. Jim followed his eyes and saw the wet circle just to the right of his fly, where the tip of his cock pressed the denim out, just as Blair moved in and covered the spot with his mouth, sucking on the damp fabric.
"Shit!" Jim's fists clenched against the metal door.
"Gonna let me in now?" Blair said, lips still pressed against the fabric. Jim groaned. Blair evidently took that as a yes, because his fingers went to the button of Jim's jeans. Jim closed his eyes again -- then opened them when the expected rasp of the zipper didn't come. He looked down and saw Blair look hotly at the tiny new triangle of skin exposed by the open button, then press forward and lick him there. He sighed as the zipper went down and warm hands smoothed the fabric aside and stroked back in to tease the hair at the base of his cock.
Blue eyes, dark with excitement, turned up to his. He stroked a thumb against the kid's lips and said, "You do whatever you like," and watched those eyes close and those lips open, and then he closed his own eyes as a strong hand tipped his cock out and a hot tongue began licking wetly up the shaft. "Oh yeah," he groaned. "Good and wet."
The kid took his time wetting Jim's cock down, which was good, and then he took the head in his mouth and swirled his tongue around it, which was even better. Evidently all the attention Jim had lavished on him when their positions had been reversed was paying off now. Suction, gentle at first and then harder -- oh, that was good, that was so good -- and then the kid was taking him deeper, and deeper still, and Jim was losing himself in hotwettight when he was jerked back to earth by a soft choking sound and a sudden chill and a rough voice whispering, "Shit, sorry, sorry --"
"Hey," he said. "You don't have to go all the way down."
"But when you --"
"Yeah, that's where all that practice comes in, remember?" He touched the kid's cheek. "Nobody can do that right off, and some people can never do it at all. It's OK. You can go shallow if you want."
"I want to. I want to do it like you do it. Will you show me how?"
"Yeah," Jim breathed. "God yes. But not now. Later." He reached for the hand that pressed against the front of his hip and pushed it toward the kid's own mouth. "Get your hand wet and slide it up and down. That way you don't have to take it any deeper than you're comfortable with." Then he leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes as wet heat enveloped him again.
A quick hard suck made Jim gasp, and the kid was obviously paying attention, because now he was sucking hard, sliding mouth and hand in unison. "Oh yeah," Jim said thickly, and he began to let his hips move a little bit to show the rhythm he liked.
This was the time when you could tell who was doing you a favor and who was getting into it for its own sake. The favor crowd would pick up that rhythm and run with it, proven moves with mouth and hand, picking up speed, bringing him off efficiently and quickly. But it appeared that the kid belonged to the hobby crowd, because he began to follow Jim through the gentle rocking thrust, refusing the motion that would make Jim come in a minute or so, choosing instead to go back to exploring with tongue and fingertips. Jim had a sudden impulse to grab his head and push hard into his mouth, but he tamped it down. Better this way, better with somebody who could stretch it out, who could ...
"Oh fuck." Half whisper, half groan, because those were teeth, scraping very gently around the crown, oh god, swirl of tongue, soft touch of teeth, swirl of tongue ... Jim hissed through his teeth and the kid stopped and whispered, "OK?"
"Oh yeah," Jim said without opening his eyes. "Very ... very OK ..." and then, when the swirl and scrape came back, "easy, though ... little of that goes ... a long way ..."
More explorations: firm pointed tongue tickling the notch below the crown, sucking kisses up and down the shaft, brief detour to lick wetly over his balls, then tongue back up to the head while fingertips moved down to tickle gently ...
... and those fingertips were moving down, moving back, still moving back ... oh god. Oh shit. This suggested all sorts of intoxicating possibilities: an exploratory spirit, a willingness to take things a little further ... Jim tried to move his legs further apart, give the kid access, but that made the jeans pull up tighter. So he settled for tilting his hips forward so that they fell a little lower on his hips, and was rewarded by a finger brushing tentatively back over his hole, and he gasped, and fingers and mouth both went very still.
"No, 's good, 's good, don't stop," he growled. Two fingers this time, but still brushing lightly, teasing, just the way he liked it. So good. So close ... better warn the guy ...
"Be still a second, don't move," he gasped, eyes still shut, "got to tell you ... last lesson ... you're doing great ..." he dragged air into his reluctant lungs and went on, "about thirty seconds more of that ... got to decide ... whether you want to swallow or not." He made himself say it: " 's OK if you don't want to ... big turn-on if you do ..."
That got him a quick gasp and then a hard suck -- was that a yes? Apparently it was, because all those wonderful sensations started up again, just like before, and this time he didn't have to hold back, it was up to the kid to decide what he wanted to do. He felt the buzz start in his thighs and lower back, all that energy coiling to spring, and he finally allowed himself to take his hand off the wall and reach down and touch the kid's head, and ...
... and that wasn't the prickle of a recent crewcut, it was ... silky curls on his fingers dragged him back out of his fantasy and bang! back into his body in the here and now, back against the metal door of his own apartment, hands buried in the hair of ... oh god oh god that's Blair! and he was coming coming coming and that mouth, that beautiful mouth, was moving to take it all in, and there was some sort of noise coming out of his throat, he could feel it but he couldn't hear it, and he shuddered hard and folded down into his best friend's arms.
And Blair rolled him over on his back and came down hard on top of him, rubbing //when did he get his pants open?// his hot cock against Jim's bare hip and pulling Jim's head up and muttering, "Taste it, taste it" against his mouth until Jim plunged his tongue in, kissing him for the first time since they began this terrifying game, tasting his own ocean-hot flavor in Blair's mouth, and Blair was moaning against his lips and saying, "Jim, Jim" and coming all over him.
It seemed to take forever to get his breath back. The floor was hard under their double weight, he noted with distant curiosity, as though it were something he was seeing on television. Blair's hair curtained his face and Blair's breath blew against his cheek, and it was somewhat comforting that Blair's bellows panting didn't seem to be slowing any, either.
Blair, in fact, seemed to be taking everything in slow steps: raising his head, eyes shut, then slowly opening his eyes, then letting them come into focus on Jim's face, where something he saw made him shut them again for a second. Then he pushed up and gave Jim a long look, and Jim wondered how long it would be before the picture of Blair's face -- glassy-eyed, stunned with sensation, beautiful lips swollen and wet -- would lose the power to make his cock try to stand up all over again.
"Shit," Blair said.
"Yeah." Jim pushed some of his hair back. "So when did you remember it was me?"
Blair flinched a little, guiltily, but he didn't look away. "When you were yelling my name," he said. "When you came. Hottest thing I ever heard." He rolled off, but Jim's arm tightened and kept him from increasing the space between them. "Oh, hey," Blair said. "Did you forget too?"
"Yeah," Jim said softly. "Your hair."
Blair's eyes widened. "Oh god," he said. "Now I get it. I was thinking that was the shortest thirty seconds I ever ... oh god. That really ... that really did it for you, huh?"
Jim closed his eyes briefly. "You have no idea," he said. "Better than I ever imagined."
Blair buried his face in Jim's neck. Jim could feel him smiling. "But not so good," he said, "that I couldn't use a few more lessons?"
Jim had to smile too. "Actually," he said, "I think you get to skip a grade again. I think you're ready for a more advanced class."