Dream, vision or hallucination - Jim didn't know and didn't really care. All he was certain of was that he was in the jungle again, running through it bare-chested with a wild abandon that had nothing to do with reality. He didn't need the dark blue that outlined every thing around him or the excruciatingly sharp clarity of his senses to tell him that while he rejoiced in his freedom here, his physical self lay elsewhere, empty of what made it valuable.
Dismissing that shell, not letting himself consider what may have or might happen to it, he ran full-out, effortlessly dodging and leaping over obstacles in his path as if he were the two-legged incarnation of his spirit guide. What mattered in this eternal 'now' was the chase, the pursuit, and this hunt was far more important than another meal or repulsing an enemy. Somewhere ahead his partner laid hidden, the traces of his passage destroyed in an attempt to prevent Jim from finding him.
And when he did, no power in either the spirit world or the real one would stop him from claiming his Guide, Shaman and Love as his own.
First, though, Jim had to prove himself as Sentinel, Warrior and Lover *by* finding, then winning Blair, and it was not a given that he could. Sandburg knew what a sentinel could do better than Jim did himself, and would be turning every scrap of his knowledge and not inconsiderable brain toward thwarting the pursuit. Nor did he think the dreaming shaman would meekly submit to Jim's passion, however illusionary it was. Blair had rightly decided long ago that Jim didn't deserve the honor of being his lover. There was too much blood on Jim's hands, too much taint on his soul for him to be a suitable mate for someone an intrinsically decent and good as his partner was in heart and spirit.
What happened here didn't count in the physical world though, and would never touch his partner in reality. Jim could strive by this ancient ritual to at least earn the shadow of what he needed, and maybe, just maybe buy a reprieve from the slow trek to madness that he'd been on since his gifts re-awakened in Cascade.
Pushing aside that thought as unimportant, he glided to a stop and cautiously opened his senses, seeking some hint of his Guide. He caught the barest suggestion of scent; Blair's normal fragrance, adrenaline tinted with the excitement/fear of the chase and the faintest hint of arousal. That surprised Jim for a second, even as his own body responded to it with a surge of blood to his manhood. Then he shrugged it off by reminding himself that Blair's version of what was happening would be dovetailed naturally into whatever wet-dream the younger man had been in originally.
That wouldn't make the search any easier, but Jim did have one advantage that his Guide might not be able to compensate for. As well traveled as Blair was, he had only been a visitor to the jungle, not an inhabitant. Nor had his life depended on how well he could survive on hunting and tracking skills with barely controlled sentinel gifts.
Reluctantly, Jim brought all the dials down, past even what could be considered normal. Oddly, it took away the blue filter he had been looking through, making it easier to forget that this was all in his head. Letting that thought slip away, letting everything slip away but instinct, skill and need, he cautiously crept in the direction the tantalizing smell had originated.
The terrain was unfamiliar, but the way it sloped made a logical path for someone wanting to make speed and distance, and Jim traveled beside it looking for snares and booby-traps. He found two within a mile. The first was a rope studded with shiny metal bits that twisted and spun in the breeze, the reflections trying to drag him into a zone despite his sight being down. The other was as subtle; Blair had taken sturdy fern fronds and turned them so that the currents of air from a small waterfall made them whisper like voices. Before Jim figured out what was preying at the edge of his hearing, he had nearly given up his pursuit, worried that enemies were near.
As frustrating as it was, it was also a sign that he was on the right trail and using the right method to hunt. Grinning, not only at that, but at his Guide's cleverness, he doubled his caution and went on. Two miles later, he stopped, wearily acknowledging that he must have gone past Blair's hiding place; there had been no other signs of him.
Refusing to be discouraged, Jim back-tracked, mind furiously turning over the question of how Blair would hide from him when the other man expected him to be using the full array of his senses. Climbing over a small crest, he paused at the edge of it, looking down into the abundance of orchids cupped in the center of the depression marked by the rise. On the way past the first time, he had skirted the area because he was allergic to the flowers and didn't want to have to fight off a sneezing fit.
Which, now that Jim considered it, would be the perfect way to distract all of his senses at once. Afraid of being too cocky and losing his target that way, he sent his nose down to nothing at all and let his eyes roam over the blossom shrouded trees and rocks at the heart of the tiny hollow. Blair would be meditating, probably, to remain motionless and thus nearly invisible amidst the dense foliage, not to mention a shaman's paint was intended to be camouflage as well as decoration. With both scent and sight eliminated, his best tools as a hunter, only sound was left, and the fast running stream that ran down the opposite side of the glen made for natural white noise.
On the chance he'd been spotted, Jim trudged past the glade as if disheartened but still actively looking for spoor. Then he circled around, moving over the rough landscape nearly effortlessly, his army fatigues and painted claw marks allowing him to blend into the background. When he found a good spot that let him see the entire area but left his back protected, he hunkered down, turning his hearing up to filter out the sounds of nature to pinpoint those a human made.
Within moments Jim found the steady, rhythmic breathing of his Guide, and piggy-backed sight onto it to find the faint trail of disturbed blossoms and carefully re-arranged vines that marked Blair's hiding spot. Jim's heart kicked once at his chest, resumed its normal beat, and he couldn't scrap off the victorious grin on his face.
Sentinel had succeeded in the first part of the ritual; now Warrior had to fight for the right to woo the reluctant Shaman. For a moment Jim considered sneaking up on his partner, sure that Blair wouldn't have set any more surprises for him in case they gave away his location. That didn't seem... right... somehow. They should meet as equals, so he stood and ran at full speed toward the spot where Blair was nestled.
It felt great to be stretching out his muscles, giving the power of his body full rein, and a rush of sensation to his groin made him want to roar in both challenge and warning that he was attacking. When he was a little more than halfway across the clearing, Blair bolted from concealment, moving at an angle to Jim's path.
Sure that the route had been chosen in advance, Jim matched care to speed, and was proven right almost immediately. The foliage was thick and the footing slippery, slowing him down while allowing his smaller, sure-footed partner to make the best of his head start. There would probably be another hiding place just far enough away to take advantage of that, too.
Absolutely not willing to start the hunt over again, unsure he could safely maintain his senses at their current low level, Jim recklessly put on another burst of speed and caromed down the nearly invisible trail. Built for endurance, not speed, he couldn't possibly maintain it long enough to catch up with Blair if the Shaman decided to turn it into a footrace. A fact his partner would be counting on.
That gave him the incentive to add just a little more effort, and Jim actually began to catch up to the fleeing man. Realizing that, Blair put on his own burst of speed, but whatever instinct for self-preservation that drove him was no match for the need fueling Jim. He drew within an arm's reach of his partner, but still would have not caught him if the other man hadn't chosen to try to use his superior agility against Jim.
Blair caught a vine with a strong hand, used it to change his direction without changing speed, whipping himself onto a new trail that was nearly ninety degrees to his original. It would have been enough for him to make his escape, if the treacherously soggy ground underneath hadn't caused him to skid, almost falling to his knees.
As small as the slip was, it was all the advantage Jim needed. The next minute he rammed into Blair, knocking him off his feet and sending them both tumbling down the slight slope. Almost before they stopped rolling, the Shaman was fighting with all he had, not pulling his punches in the slightest. He kicked, bit, and gouged, but oddly didn't actually punch. Instead he slapped at Jim's bare skin open-handed, as if intending to hurt as many square inches as possible.
Ignoring all of it, blocking what he could and simply absorbing the rest, Jim grappled with the smaller man, eventually forcing him to his back. Once there, he used his weight to his advantage and sat on Blair's midsection, pinning him with knees and thighs and capturing flailing hands in his own. Not surrendering in the slightest, the shaman continued to buck and writhe, but bit-by-bit Jim pushed the wiry arms to the jungle floor until they stretched straight out at an angle to Blair's body.
Taking a split second to make sure that nothing was dangerous under them or on either side - snakes, poisonous insects or plants - Jim decided he could make do with this spot. Using a move he'd been taught as a Ranger, he used his elbow to hold one of Blair's arms in a savagely painful pinch while he tied one of the wide braided fiber cords he carried in a pocket around the wrist of the other. That done, it was easier, though not by much, to do the same on the other side.
Cautiously he shifted his weight, not surprised at a new flurry of squirming from Blair to get free, and he silently fought with the powerful legs for several minutes before he could secure them as well. It left the shaman staked out spread-eagled on a bed of bannock leaves, his limbs securely attached to small trees and bushes. Given time, it he could unearth them enough to free himself, but Jim had no intention of letting him have it.
In fact, now that Warrior had proven himself worthy to Shaman, it was time for Jim to woo his Love, and if he did it right, it wasn't likely that Blair would be able to muster the concentration necessary to undo his handiwork. The problem was, Jim didn't have a clue about how to proceed.
When he and Incacha had tried this, hoping that it would remove the last barrier between the awakening sentinel and the Chopec, they had gotten exactly this far. Then Jim had sat up, all trace of sexual interest in his friend completely gone, leaving him feeling oddly sad and alone.
Incacha had smiled his wonderful, enigmatic smile and told him solemnly that he *would* find his Guide. It was only a matter of time because he sought Enquiri already, and all the sentinel must do was be patient. Not his best trait perhaps, but he was able to be the chameleon and imitate it.
At the time, Jim had laughed and helped the Chopec to his feet. Now, Incacha's words softly whispered in his ears. "If he is willing, Enquiri, you must show him you honor him by putting his needs first. If he is not... you must allow him to keep his honor by taking responsibility for his passion. It must be your fault that he could not help but respond. Do you understand?"
Nodding as if Incacha were there to see it, Jim stood over his captive, holding his gaze while he stripped off his pants and boots. His crossbow he set nearby, in case of need, but he kept his knife in hand. The jungle was no place to be totally unarmed, even when making love.
Blair's eyes widened dramatically, showing an unexpected glimmer of fear, and Jim frowned, not wanting to admit why his partner would suddenly be afraid. Sitting astride Blair's hips, keeping his weight on his knees, he drove the blade into the ground near his own leg and said quietly. "I'm not going to hurt you, I swear. As many times in the past as I've failed you, I can see where you might not believe that, but I won't. Pain has no place in what needs to happen here."
"Jim, man," Blair said earnestly, "That would be a lot easier to buy into if I weren't tied up, and you weren't naked. Look, whatever's wrong, I know I can fix it if you give me half a chance. Much as I have to improvise sometimes, I come through for you when your senses screw up, right? Let me up and *talk* to me, telling me what's going on with you."
Hardly hearing the words, Jim stared as his partner's lips, absently thinking that that mouth was made for sin. It was made for deep, hungry kisses, for tiny delicate nips, for being wrapped around a man's cock, sucking it right down to the root.
Already half interested just from the fight, his own dick hardened at that image, and Jim wrapped a hand around the base to stave it off. Not yet, not yet - even without Incacha's instructions, he would never simply fall on a lover like an animal. No matter how long he'd been denied, how badly he needed.
Seeing that, Blair went into verbal overdrive, not that a single syllable made any sense to Jim. All he could think about was the flickering dance of his partner's tongue, the wafts of moist heat coming with his breaths, and how that would feel on his hard-on. He actually leaned forward to find out, his erection brushing over Blair's stomach before he caught his control by his fingernails.
"Damn," Jim muttered to himself, closing his eyes to shut away the sight of a temptation that he couldn't afford to fall prey to. Under him, Blair wriggled in another attempt to get away, his Chopec style loincloth dragging over Jim's bare skin as he did. That gave him an idea, and the sentinel retrieved his knife, ignoring his partner's quiet gasp, long enough to cut a strip of it free.
Not giving the other man a chance to react, Jim quickly pounced, loosely stuffing the fabric between Blair's teeth. "Sorry," he said sincerely, tying the improvised gag in place. "But that mouth of yours is more than the pope himself could say no to. It's hide it or do something neither of us are ready for."
Yet, he added to himself hopefully.
Despite the barrier, Blair cursed him soundly, assuming Jim could understand every word, and he doubled his efforts to get loose. Turning up his hearing and shaking his head in admiration at the inventiveness of the invectives, Jim looked down at the thigh he had bared by cutting the loincloth, fingers lightly tracing over the springy hair on it. The contrast between the texture of the hair and the satiny skin under it was intriguing even with his sense of touch turned down, and without intending to, Jim stretched out over Blair's lower body, gently exploring it while he peeled away the garment.
Under his curious fingers muscles jumped and flexed, but the combativeness in Blair slowly gave way to a sort of subdued wariness that Jim could sympathize with. It was a sort of a 'this isn't so bad so save my strength 'til I need it' thing that every good fighter knows practically instinctively. The single drawback was that the adrenaline didn't stop pumping right away, and, with nothing else to do with the wild flow of energy, Mother Nature commanded that it be used for sex.
Slowly Blair's maleness hardened, stretching out impressively until Jim was nearly eye-to-eye with it. Judging by the flush of embarrassed red accompanying it, Blair wasn't happy about the automatic response, and he went very still under Jim's questing hands. Noticing, but too absorbed in his attentions to stop, Jim ran a single finger down the length of the erection into the thick thatch of curls at the base.
"Beautiful," he murmured. "Just like you. Perfectly proportioned, strong and sturdy, softness and steel." Jim gently rolled the sac underneath with his palm, hefting it once to feel its weight. It was solid, drawn up close to his partner's body as if climax were needed.
Suddenly hungry for the sight of Blair giving into that need, Jim groped at his discarded pants with his free hand, coming up with a tube of KY. "Can't wait to feel you," he said huskily, and looked up at the sharp grunt from his partner. "Oh, yes - I want you in me. Still rape, I know, but it's worth the price of being damned to have it, this once. I'll make it good for you."
Shaking his head violently in denial, Blair mumbled something that Jim didn't bother to translate. He knelt up, intending to ready himself, but something about Blair's abruptly intense focus on him reminded Jim that, from all he'd seen, his partner was probably a natural voyeur. Hiding a small grin, he turned so that his back was to him, and slipped a lube-covered digit slowly down his cleft and into his opening.
He sighed at the familiar intrusion, greedily soaking in the tiny hitch in Blair's breathing from the sight of him preparing himself. Taking his time, as much to arouse his lover as to ready himself for something much, much bigger than the occasional finger he used on himself when jerking off, Jim gingerly worked his finger in and out until Blair began involuntarily pumping his hips in time with it.
Eagerly he turned and was greeted by the sight of eyes nearly black with lust fixed on him, and a hard-on that bobbed and drooled as if begging to be put to use. "God," he breathed. "Oh... God." Swallowing hard, he crouched over Blair's cock, holding it steady in one hand and smearing leftover lube over it.
Once that was done, Jim lowered himself onto the straining shaft, wincing at the burning pain as he was penetrated. It was bad, though not as bad as he'd heard it could be, and under the hurt was the promise of something better. What kept him moving down was his lover's expression as pleasure poured through Blair's body. Distinctly hearing, "Ohmygod!" from him, Jim dipped his head to hide the triumph on his face, and endured the discomfort, stopping only when the furred balls were under his ass cheeks.
"Damn," he said wonderingly, waiting for his insides to adjust to the presence inside him. "This is... god... I had no idea...." The ache was mostly gone, leaving a yearning that was spreading through him like fire. He could come from this, he realized, and nothing else. He could come from just sitting there, totally connected to his lover, his channel reflexively fluttering and clasping to adjust to the thrumming, heated cock possessing him.
Blair's needs came first, though, and Jim dug a shaking hand into the mass of his partner's tied curls to undo the thong holding them. He took the strip of leather and knotted it around the base of his hard on, threading the leftover end under his balls to loop it back up to painfully hold them in a tight cinch. That done to keep himself from finishing too soon, he sat carefully sat back on his heels, face to the sky, hands resting lightly on Blair's stomach.
Before he could start to ride, Blair bucked up hard, keening frantically deep in his chest. Jim went with the desperate thrusting, letting him take what he had to have. It couldn't possibly last very long at the punishing pace Blair set, and Jim put his mind to memorizing every move, every soft, hungry cry, hoping to capture enough to last him the rest of his life.
Too soon Blair shouted wordlessly and spilled molten liquid into the depths of Jim, then sank back limply into their bedding of soft, fragrant leaves, quivering slightly from the force of his climax. Fighting the urge to rip off his improvised cock ring and stroke himself until he was as sated, Jim sagged down as well, keeping his weight on his elbows though Blair's chest whispered over his with each panting breath.
Tightening internally to hold the softening flesh inside him as long as possible, Jim waited patiently for his partner to recover. Instead of regular, easy breathing returning, Blair began to gag slightly, turning his head away from the body over him as if it were offensive. Pulling back enough to see the wrinkled nose of disgust, Jim cautiously tweaked up his own sense of smell, and nearly gagged himself.
Recalling the broad slaps Blair delivered, he sat back up on his heels, smirking, and looked down at the hand-shaped red marks on his torso and upper arms. "Caught in your own snare?" he asked lightly. At his partner's slightly mystified look, he added. "Dials, Chief. Dials. Every thing is turned way the hell down, and from the looks of this," he gestured at the worsening rash, "It's a damn good thing, too. Counter-agent?"
For a moment there was something odd in the sharp eyes focused on Jim; an assessing, measuring something that he didn't understand. Then a glance at the small pouch that had hung on one side of the loin cloth and was now next to Blair's head told Jim where to look for the antidote, and he let go any questions he had in favor of neutralizing his partner's latest trap. Inside the pouch were several small clay pots, sealed with tree resin, and he held one up at a time where Blair could see them until he was given a grunt of approval. Before he opened the container, though, he leaned back down so that the stench from whatever it was that had been spread on Blair's hands before hitting Jim was right in the smaller man’s face. "Before I open this, keep in mind that you don't have dials and the first dose is going to get wiped right under your nose. Now, should I go ahead and break the seal?"
Jim waited patiently a moment, studying the expression on Blair's face, then made as if to open the pot upside down on him. A furiously negative grunt made him relent, and he set that one aside and repeated his earlier performance of lifting the individuals containers until an exasperated sigh told him which was the right one. Again he made as if to open it in Blair's face, but this time there was only resignation from his partner. Nodding to himself, he turned his smell and touch back down, just in case, and opened it, putting a trace of it on the tip of Blair's nose.
No disgust, so he gingerly let his senses slide back up to normal, and took a palm full to smear over where he could see a similar rash coming up on his companion’s body where Jim had been in close contact. At the wide-eyed surprise from Blair, he hid his shame that his partner had reason to believe he'd think of himself first, and put his full attention on making sure every bit of skin was treated. The salve was slippery, almost soapy, and when the sky over the tropical forest began to drop its daily portion of warm, warm rain, it began to rinse away, taking the shaman's paint with it.
Intrigued by the gradually appearing flesh with its healthy glow and the springy hairs covering it, Jim took his time, going so far as to wash Blair's face as well. It seemed appropriate, as if he were unveiling the other man's true self by the cleansing ritual. Blair seemed to think so, too. His body lay relaxed and submissive under Jim's administrations though his eyes never strayed from their intent study of the bigger man's every move.
Only when he reached Blair's groin did Jim take some of the slave for himself, and he washed away his painted claw marks quickly and efficiently, in a hurry to remove that last reminder of anything outside of the two of them. To his surprise, Blair gave a small nod of approval, as if he understood the intent behind the deed. Perhaps he did; ritual and ceremony were all to an anthropologist.
Jim didn't worry about it. What was important to him was that the shaft inside him was hardening again, filling him in small, pleasurable increments, making his barely leashed hunger rear its unruly head. Before he could give into the urge to satisfy himself, he lifted away completely, groaning at the loss. With the last of the cream from the pot in hand, he stretched out on his stomach between Blair's spread legs, an elbow on the outside of one sharply defined hip holding his weight up.
There were traces of rash in the thick curls around the base of the sturdy cock, and he worked the salve into the area, giving the balls their fair share. Hiding his smile at the way Blair's hard-on swayed and shifted, as if begging for some petting, too, Jim dipped slightly into the crevasse between the wide-flung thighs, testing his partner's reaction. Some innate sense of what was right was guiding him, telling him that it wasn't the time for more than that, and at the hissed exhale tainted with fear, he withdrew his probing fingers. To reassure Blair, he took the shivering erection in hand and stroked it up and down, letting the barely perceptible flexing of the legs next to him instruct him as to what tempo and pattern his partner liked best.
Though Jim had been up close and personal with other cocks before, this was the first time he hadn't been in a hurry, furtively and nearly shamefully going for a fast bit of necessary relief. Fascinated by the combination of textures - satiny, spongy, firm, smooth, slippery - he lovingly worked Blair's erection until it was all but vibrating in his grasp from his partner's need to come. It took a muffled, pleading mumble to draw him away from his play, and in apology for teasing so long, he took the ruddy cap into his mouth, lightly tonguing under the ridge of it.
A faint taste of cloves and an unknown herb lingered, but that was overshadowed by the powerful flavor of Blair himself, bitter and salty, luring Jim into taking the demanding cock all the way into himself. He swallowed around it, throat muscles expertly massaging the length of it as he did. With a whimpering cry Blair began to fuck Jim's mouth, erratically plunging past his waiting lips with each thrust. Wanting to reach down for matching strokes on his own cock, Jim made himself devote his free hand to gently delving into Blair's cleft.
This time the intrusion was accepted, though with a second's hesitation that only a sentinel could have sensed. Gratefully Jim touched the hidden portal tenderly, finding it tightly closed. Undeterred, he soothed and caressed the tense muscle, using the nearly forgotten KY to ease the way, along with the residual soapiness from the salve. Blair's pucker gave reluctantly, but Jim kept at it until he was able to slide a single finger past the guardian ring. Moving his hand in counter-point to what his mouth was doing, it only took a few minutes before his partner was eagerly riding down on the invader, taking it all the way to the knuckle.
From the clinging tightness, Jim guessed that Blair was new to this kind of loving. He certainly took to it fast enough to make the sentinel think that whatever his reason was for not trying it before, it wasn't because his partner hated being penetrated. That was of no consequence at the moment, however. What was important was making the fast approaching climax the best Blair had ever had; the best he'd *ever* have if Jim had his way.
Long before his partner could feel his release begin, Jim knew that he was going to by the increase in the heat pouring off the sturdy body, by the subtle changes in the channel surrounding his fingers and the cock he held. When the initial jolt of release coursed through his lover, Jim firmly rubbed the small nub hidden in the smooth wall. Blair screamed as the first blast of cream shot from him, and Jim gobbled up both eagerly, his own need screeching to be freed from its restraints. Only when the last bit had dribbled out did he give the softening dick a loving lick, then kneel over his partner.
With careful hands, Jim lifted Blair’s heavy head, undid the gag, and gingerly pushed his cock past the slack lips into the steamy cavern they guarded. To his astonishment, a tongue-tip greeted him, as if curiously seeking his taste in return. It was too much for too-longed denied nerves. With a hoarse cry Jim ripped away the make-shift cock ring and shoved as far into his partner's mouth as he dared, his seed erupting from him in fiery jets. As best he could, he held back to keep the flow from choking his captive, but Blair surprised him again by swallowing his offering.
When he was shaking so badly from relief he couldn't stay upright any longer, Jim slowly pulled away from the hot mouth savoring him and lay on top of Blair, head in the center of his partner's chest. It was the best pillow in the world as far as he was concerned. Fragrant with a mix of their scents that said 'love' to him, his head-rest moved gently with the vibrant life within it, humming the same message directly into Jim's ear. The steamy jungle rain flowed over them both like a living blanket, warming and binding them together with crystal strands, and the soft patter of the falling drops combined with the natural sounds of the forest around them to create an almost seductive lullaby.
It was by far the single most peaceful and perfect moment of Jim's life, and despite all his self-control, all his will power, a single tear made its way from under his closed eyelid to join its sky-born brethren. As if he could feel that drop separate and apart from the rain dampening his skin, Blair asked softly, "Why?"
The single word stood for a great many questions, but the answer Jim chose to give was, "Because you can't be held responsible for what you do in dreams. They aren't real and can't change what *is* real. Can't do any harm to anyone." He leaned up on an elbow, meeting Blair's sharp gaze easily. "In a dream I can rape your virgin ass, ravish that incredible mouth of yours, lavish pleasure on you until you die from it, and when you wake, all you'll have to show for it is sticky sheets and muzzy images that don't make any sense."
"You force me, but without putting a scratch on me? Even in your dreams you hold back, stay in control?" Blair asked curiously, with a hint of some harder emotion under it. "Don't you ever just let go, let loose completely?"
"I've hurt you too many times for real; I couldn't take doing it here, too," he confessed, normally recalcitrant words flowing freely in this illusionary world. "You're made to be loved, not abused. I *want* to make it good for you."
"Then don't hold back. Drop the walls, let me see and feel and hear the you that lives behind them. For once, Jim, I'd really like to meet that part on my terms rather than deal with the poisoned portion that overflows when you try to keep too much inside." Blair's voice was very persuasive, nearly commanding. "I swear to you I'm strong enough to take whatever happens. And it isn't abuse if I wanted what caused the bruises or whatever."
For a second all Jim could do was stare at his partner. If this was a different kind of trap, the lure was very, very appealing. Penis stirring interestedly, he hesitantly opened his senses, looking for the truth with them. From where their bodies met, he could feel the heavy pounding of Blair's heart, though that could be fear as easily as desire. And by now his partner was an expert at lying with his eyes, so Jim didn't bother try to read them, but rather simply continued to hold his gaze, waiting for a tale-tale swallow or change in breathing. None came, and at last he let himself believe what his nose had been insisting on all along: Blair wanted him.
To judge by the erection making its presence felt along Jim's belly, he wanted him very badly. It was already completely hard, and a trace of slickness that wasn't from the softly falling rain coated the head. His own rose to match it, reckless lust burning through him as if he were a teen-ager with his first lover. He found himself shifting position so that his cock lay along the crease of Blair's body, fingers making their way of their own accord to the nape of Blair's neck to hide in the mass of curls there.
"I..." he tried to protest anyway.
"It doesn't count," Blair murmured, pulling at the ropes holding him, not as if be free of them, but as if to make sure they anchored him securely. "Remember? No consequences. You've earned the right, Enquiri, to have me, to use me, to rape me if that's what you want. I submit to whatever my Sentinel and Warrior wishes."
"I should have put the damn gag back in," Jim muttered darkly, but he bent his head and covered Blair's mouth with his own.
The kiss undid him as nothing else could have. It was full of willing, hungry compliance, and tasted as good as Blair had always smelled. Without conscious intent, Jim deepened it until their lips were sealed together, tongues mating with each other in imitation of what cocks wanted. He held it until spots sparkled at the back his eyes from lack of air, and even then he only broke it long enough to let them both fill their lungs once.
All the while, Blair struggled under him, not trying to get away, but trying to work Jim's erection into his well-slicked opening. The angle was wrong, though, and all he succeeded in doing was teasing both of them until Jim fumbled to find his knife to cut away the cords holding Blair's legs in place. The second he could, Blair wrapped both around Jim's waist, despite the fact it bent him nearly in half.
It also put his ass at the best angle for entry, and Jim eased just inside the loosened pucker. The incredibly soft, hot tissues squeezed at the head of his cock, and he had no choice but to rip away from the soul-searing kiss to shout his ecstasy. He refused to go any farther than that, though, letting Blair take what he wanted as he wanted it, though it was all that Jim could do not to simply shove all the way past the tight muscle.
"That's it, Chief," Jim panted, almost nose-to-nose with his lover, eyes catching and holding Blair's. "Open for me; let me in."
"Big," he gasped, hips rising and falling almost imperceptibly. "So big."
"I know, I know, but it'll be good. I promise. It'll be so good." Jim could tell that it wasn't his words that reassured Blair, but something that his lover could see in his face. Maybe it was the memory of how fantastic it had been for him when he'd been the one on the receiving end.
Whatever it was, it made Blair smile. He inhaled deeply, then let it out in a long sigh, his body relaxing completely as he did. He rocked up once, hard, and just like that, Jim was all the way in, balls pressed into the firm ass cheeks, silky fire engulfing his hard-on. Groaning, distantly hoping that his partner had meant it when he said that he didn't want him to hold back, Jim did as need and nature demanded, and began to fuck Blair powerfully.
Like his run earlier, he felt as if he could go on forever, surging into and out of the tight channel as if he were a force of nature himself. Never taking his eyes from the passion-filled ones locked with his, Jim pounded away at the willing body with his full strength, pummeling tiny cries of joy and pleasure out of his lover. Between them he could feel the steely ridge of Blair's hard-on gliding over his rain-and-sweat covered stomach, and he made a point of keeping just enough pressure on it that it could be another source of pleasure for his lover.
Much as Jim wanted to make love until the universe burned out around them, Blair whispered his name as if he were a god, and came, eyes rolling back into his head. The fluttering grip on his cock was too good, and with a triumphant sound that was nearly a growl, Jim hid his face in the warm curve of Blair's shoulder and neck and gave his lover his seed. Ecstatic shudders echoed through both of them as he nuzzled and nibbled at the firm throat, once playfully leaving a love-bite just above the collar bone.
"No way I'm going to forget this," Blair murmured, rubbing his cheek over Jim's.
"It's just a dream, Chief," Jim said sadly. "You'll wake up feeling pretty good, not really sure who was in your wet-dream, and wondering what the hell your subconscious was playing at."
"You sound so sure. Why?"
"Because you didn't see Molly. If the part of you that has the ability to spirit walk or whatever this is couldn't at least feel her presence, I don't think there's much chance that this is going to stay with you." As much as he kept his voice level, Jim wasn't sure if Blair's dormant shamanic abilities staying dormant was a good thing or not right now.
"But I want to remember," Blair said, sounding sad himself. Then, with typical Sandburg stubbornness, he added, "I *will* remember. What just happened - it's important, too important to let fade away." He tried to gesture with his hands, as if to use them to emphasize his point, then grimaced because he couldn't.
Reaching for the knife to free Blair from the cords, Jim unwillingly left his shadowy retreat to be able to use it safely. He was greeted with the incongruous sight of the glowing numbers of his alarm clock glowing to the right of him, and then he was awake, propped up on his elbows in his own bed, his bedroom forming familiar shadows around him.
Automatically he listened for signs that his roomie was awake as well, but found only the normal sounds of a sleeping man. Surprisingly, there was no scent of semen, nor were his own sheets sticky. Despite that, he felt sated and content, as if he had just made love, and he stretched carefully to see if there were any physical signs at all.
There were no aches or soreness, much as he might wish for them as a reminder to carry with him during the day. Before that disappointment could overwhelm the lingering sensation of being well-laid, he got up, deliberately starting his morning routine regardless of the hour left before the alarm would go off. The early start let Jim get caught up on a few things around the loft, increasing his good cheer to the point that when he heard Blair begin to wake, he went ahead and started his algae shake for him.
In his typical early morning daze, Blair mumbled an indecipherable monosyllable, then sat to drink it, scrubbing at his eyes as if to help them focus. Grinning, Jim just sat down to his own bacon and eggs, knowing he'd hear about it later, when his partner had obtained full consciousness. About to take a bite, he glanced over at Blair and froze.
Showing clearly at the edge of his ratty bathrobe was a love-bite just above his collarbone, and it didn't take sentinel sight to realize it was nearly a perfect match to the one Jim left on him in his vision. As if feeling his stare like a touch, Blair reached up to touch the mark, eyes suddenly completely awake and aware. Smiling softly, he said, "I told you I'd remember."
finis