STOLEN MINUTES

Nose tickling and twitching, lips twisting under it, Blair jerked awake and tried to brush away whatever it was that was bothering him. Encountering only his own face, he blinked open one eye and peered blearily at the world to find the source of his irritation. Seeing nothing but an expanse of white, slashed with a brilliant band of bright, he closed the eye and wandered back toward sleep.

Only to be hauled back again as his nose informed him with no uncertainty that something was definitely annoying it. Reluctantly, he opened both eyes - or rather, attempted to. One was squashed into the mattress and refusing to lift its lid in protest. Groggily he contemplated what to do about it, received a general suggestion from his memory banks to *move* and gave that a try.

No luck. He was pinned by something heavy sprawled over him; a familiar sensation and not worth worrying about. Swiping at his nose again, he decided to ignore it and go back asleep. With a grunt, he burrowed his cheek into the sheets and determinedly headed to dreamland.

This time there was a very specific complaint. Hot. Very hot. That was worrisome enough that more of Blair woke up than he wanted to, so he could think about the feeling. Giving sight another chance, he looked at the bed, raised his head a few inches to look around the bedroom, let it drop heavily, and thought about what he saw.

Sunlight. Okay, weird for Cascade, but not totally unheard of. Bright, but that was not nose information. But bright can be hot, right? It finally sunk into his muzzy head that a beam from the skylight was falling over his face, and that his hair was shielding all of his features from the warming effects except the end of his nose. Okay, move away, right? Yeah, right. That meant moving *Jim* and that Blair did not want to do, for any reason. The big cop needed his sleep. More than usual, Blair thought dimly, and wondered why.

The memory of last night's phone call hit him, hard, and he turned his head to bite at the fabric to keep his shout of relief at finding Jim in bed with him from escaping. Concentrating on his breathing - in for a long count of 10, out for a slow 5, he calmed himself, knowing that if he got agitated, even if he didn't move, his body's automatic reactions would wake his lover.

When he was sure he had himself under control, he squirmed, giving the careful nudge with his elbow that he had learned would tell Jim he needed to shift positions. With a snoring snort, Jim rolled to his side, taking Blair with him. Waiting a second to be sure he hadn't woke up, Blair gingerly squirmed out of Jim's arms, then sat up, knuckling the sleep from the corners of his eyes.

Moving to lean back on the headboard, he pulled his knees up and brought up a pillow to hang onto. Patiently he waited for the inevitable; within seconds Jim stirred again, flung out one hand, found one of Blair's ankles, latched onto it, and subsided, snoring quietly again. That small gesture made Blair smile; Jim always looked for him if he moved out of reach, coming to full alertness if he couldn't locate him.

He liked it, though it meant that once in a while he was stuck here in the bed, waiting until Jim had had enough rest before they could begin the day. It wasn't as if the time went to waste; he'd organize his notes in his head, plan the day or week, think about the outline of a paper he was working on. Strangely, he had even come to enjoy these stolen minutes, finding the silence and tranquility a different kind of meditation.

Fixing his eyes on his focal point - Jim's serene expression, Blair sighed and let his mind roam. It didn't surprise him the first thing that came to him was the phone call from last night. He could hear Simon's voice, sounding weary, telling him about a couple of gangbangers, only 14 years old, drawing guns on each other, then on the officers who came to investigate shots fired. Jim had had no choice but to shoot one, trusting his sentinel sight to make it a disabling injury, but killing instead when the teenager moved at the wrong second.

Going upstairs and going to sleep had been hard, almost impossible for Blair, after hearing that. But it was the best thing that he could do, he knew, bitter as that pill was. At one time, he would have waited up for the other man, hoping and waiting for his partner to talk to him about what had happened. He would have looked for the first opening given him to pounce on topic, believing that getting Jim to express his reactions was the most important thing. Which the sentinel would always do, eventually, snarling and lashing out before, during and after.

It was only by chance that he learned that he would get better results, faster, if he held back, gave Jim a chance to face his demons on his own, first. He had awakened one night and gone downstairs to find something to drink. Instead he'd found Jim standing on the balcony, fists clenched, his *entire* body shaking with suppressed rage. Fear had frozen Blair momentarily - fear that his roommate would let all that emotion loose on himself. He hadn't; almost as if by magic, the anger had bled away, leaving Jim standing blankly. Slowly, slowly calm had suffused the taunt form, softening it.

Driven by impulse, Blair had moved on cat feet back to bed and waited. When Jim came up a while later, the big man had crawled on top of him and made love to him with an intensity that could make him hard just thinking about it. In the aftermath, petting and soothing, Jim had talked, almost randomly, giving out what had sent him to the balcony in bits in pieces.

He'd hoped last night that Jim would wake him, but guessed he wouldn't. In fact, he'd fallen asleep worrying if Jim to come to their bed at all that night and how long he'd have to wait to hear about the shoot out from him. Miraculously, he'd awakened on his own, barely, at the feel of Jim beside him and had reached for his lover, confident Jim would want him. All he remembered from their loving was sensual bliss and blessed relief that Jim *had* come to him, finding his way through the night yet again.

Here, in the glow of fresh morning light, it didn't seem possible to Blair that he could doubt his lover so much. Or surprising that he could need Jim enough to beg for his caresses while only half aware of himself. Feeling a jolt of desire at the memory of just how sweet those caresses had been, Blair bit on his bottom lip. Sweeping his eyes over his bed mate, Blair thought about Jim's hard and solid mass, pinning him to the bed, surrounding him, claiming him, and got hit with a violent pang of pure lust that was almost painful.

Biting a groan, this time, he mindlessly reached down to comfort the leftover ache from it, giving the hardness a tight squeeze. It didn't help, and neither did the sight of Jim's own beginning arousal. He couldn't help staring at it, mentally encouraging its growth, wanting to see it in its full glory. It didn't take long for it to reach full size, and the tip began to moisten with proof of the hunger underlying it. It pulsed, once, bouncing onto Jim's tight stomach, the stood straight up, as if begging for Blair to touch it.

Not daring, unwilling despite it to disturb Jim yet, Blair stroked his own. He knew that Jim would do this, too, sometimes: watch over Blair as he slept and pleasure himself at the sight. He'd always found it an endearing act of consideration and intimacy. Before now he hadn't understood how exciting it was, too, to have this unconditional access to his lover.

Fighting to keep his moans deep in his throat, he urged himself toward climax. Wishing he had Jim's sense of touch and taste, he daringly delved with two fingers between Jim's lips, stealing some of the wetness there. Covering the head with it, he began to pump into his fist, touching his lips with the fingers he'd given to Jim. He sucked on them, thinking of Jim's mouth, staring at it.

With a sharply in-drawn gasp, Jim's eyes snapped open, finding Blair's by instinct. Licking his own lips, he whispered, "Taste me."

"Omigod, omigod, omigod..." Blair quickly bent over Jim and filled his mouth with the hard flesh of his lover. The world tilted as Jim moved him to his side, then his own need was engulfed in a hot mouth. Until the flavor filled him, he had meant to linger over his task, but he was suddenly voracious and went at it enthusiastically.

Jim flooded his throat, mewling around his own treat. His sucking was sporadic because of it, but that random stimulation was more than enough. Blair shuddered, and gave Jim his seed. Forced to let go in order to breathe, he pillowed his head on Jim's thigh, feeling him match his position. They cuddled, resting and catching their breath.

A peek at the clock told Blair the alarm wouldn't go off for a few minutes, yet. There was no place better to be, nothing more perfect to do. He nuzzled at his living headrest, gave it a kiss, and smiled when he was treated similarly.

"Ever feel guilty," Jim said softly, "for having so much?"

Any residual tension and fear for his partner fled. Jim was going to use these golden morning minutes to gift him with confidences. Content, he opened his heart and took the gift with the faith Jim needed.

The End