Warning: none that I can find
Notes: Jim's p.o.v.
"I hate you, Ellison! God, I hate you, I...leave me alone!" Blair cried, and fell onto the futon, smothering his face in his pillows.
Jim stood there, clenching his fists. White-lipped. Maybe he had misunderstood. Blair had seemed to revel in his touch, to take delight in the feel of his hands reaching across his shoulders, patting his cheeks. When Jim had ruffled and carded his fingers through his curls.
He groaned inwardly thinking about a possible physical and emotional separation from Blair. I need him, I crave him.
Crave, desire, want, must, need, have.
Jim stepped out of the doorway of Blair's small bedroom. No fear. No fear. No fear.
He let his hand fall across the small of Blair's back.
Letting the palm of his hand lightly weigh on the motionless body, Jim could feel immense warmth soaking through the flannel stretched taut by Blair's odd position.
His fingers jerking as if in palsy, he slowly raised the shirt a few inches above Blair's waist. Jim placed that trembling hand on bare skin. Soft skin. Warm skin.
It sent a tingling sensation through his fingertips, down his arm, into his chest. His heart racing from just one touch, Jim felt as if he had begun a 100-yard dash run. His breath caught almost in a sob as his hypersense of touch nearly overwhelmed him.
My God.
Jim massaged the olive skin, gently kneading the silkiness. His calluses padded over the smoothness, his fingers quickly finding a mole. He caressed that mole with the pad of his thumb. Pleased with the soft friction of the tiny growth, his hand stilled.
His fingers wended their way to Blair's left side and touched the rounded belly.
Blair shifted to his back.
Blue, wonderfully deep blue eyes stared up into his face. Silently asking. Blair's beautiful face was blushing and slightly creased from the pilow slip fold.
He's so exquisite. Precious to me. Jim's other hand clenched with the thought: will this be the last day his face shines for me? If he turns his face from me...
"Jim," Blair whispered in a throaty voice that caused tiny shivers to travel down his spine, "you, I...need..."
"You want me to take you, don't you, Blair?" asked Jim. Take you, take you, take you, a beggar's chant.
Blair drew his finger from Jim's hairline down to his chin, then splayed his fingers across Jim's throat, seeming himself to hear the vibrations of Take you, Take you, lodged there...take you, take...
Blair's whispered answer was as beautiful to Sentinel hearing as the rustling of the first fallen autumn leaves. "Just...Jim...I'll do any...anything...you say...just...please touch me and hold me. You don't have to make love to--"
Jim drew in his breath sharply, as Blair softly continued,"...me, no...just touch...hold me in your arms...I need you, man...need..."
Jim felt dazed, his dreams come to fruition, the joyful fulfillent of his fantasy of joining himself with his Guide, loving him, uniting their bodies in passion.
Blair sat up in bed and eased his shirt off, letting it drop to the floor at Jim's feet. He took Jim's hand and placed it over his heart. Jim felt Blair's heart fluttering like a moth trying to escape the death of the flame.
"Shut...close your eyes, Blair," he demanded, but Blair had already done so at the stillness of that first touch upon his chest.
Jim had never touched a man this way before. His legs wobbled, his knees sank onto the mattress, as his hands began touching, caressing, fondling. He felt padded bones, taut muscles under velvet skin, down as soft as newborns' over Blair's chest, the navel quivering, the nipples sharp and the fragrance of Blair.
Wood smoke and new-mown grass and sea-spray and the heady perfume of roses and rich leather and spring rain and burning leaves and home...Blair smelled of home.
Jim smoothed the laugh lines around Blair's lips and joined their breaths, mingling essences and flavors with their first kiss. Blair's lips willingly parted, his tongue touching Jim's--a promise of another joining to come? Oh God, his mouth is a delicious sanctuary...my temple...I worship him...I love him...
His Guide wrapped arms around Jim's middle, tugging him down to lie on top of his body, sighing as Jim's body weighed heavily upon him. An exquisite weight.
Jim left the taste of Blair's mouth to kiss the high cheekbones, the arch of his brows, feathering the lashes with his lower lip. His tongue swiped at Blair's retrousse nose, nipping the upper lip, licking at the stubble on the jaw and chin, nibbled the adam's apple, before reclaiming the man's mouth.
Blair looked into the eyes of a dream come true. "Jim, thank you for being so kind to me."
Jim blushed, his body felt scorched, his skin torched at those awful words. Kind? No!
He levered himself away from the younger man, jumped from the bed, and stiffly walked into the living room and collapsed into the nearest chair.
A moment later Blair was lightly touching his shoulder. Jim had his face hidden in his hands. Blair took those beautiful, gentle, callused, warm, life-giving hands into his smaller ones.
He kissed the palms and the wrists, nuzzling into them as if they were mother's breasts to a starving babe.
Blair seated himself in Jim's lap and kissed his throughly. When Jim opened his eyes Blair had retreated back into his room. He had left the door open, waiting...waiting...for the Sentinel...for him?
Jim's knees creaked as he slowly stood. He could hear Blair speaking so softly, "Come to me, come in me, be with me, fill me...I'm yours."
Crave you, desire you, want you, need you. I must have you...