By Kira
Note: Hello my kiddies...this is your listmom coming out of hiding with a little bit a snippet. Its been so long since I've posted something in parts I thought I'd give it another whirl. This came to me one night while I was waiting for the bus late at night in a particularly seedy part of town.
Warnings: Its unbetaed. Bit-o-violence at some point.
Rating: let's say PG for this part. Some might be NC 17, but I'll let you know <g>
Notes: For the record, I think that police officers are great people who do an invaluable service for the community. And I firmly believe that they do not recieve enough credit, value, appreciation for a job that I for one would never want to have to do. However, as in any job...bad people do get positions of authority. This is a story about two such persons <g> They are in no way representative about how I feel about cops in general. (I just had to say that, don't ask my why...I really don't know <g>) Okay, now remember, the more feedback, the more Pierre feels like writing <g>
Exact Change
By Kira
"Hey Blair, you ready to go home?" Pete Summers shouted in Blair's ear over the pounding rhythm of the bass. Downing the rest of his coke, Blair nodded.
"Go round up the gang...I'll get out coats." The blond haired young man passed the coat checks over to Blair and went in search of their friends. The evening was a celebration of Peter's completion of his comprehensive exams. Blair offered to be the designated driver and they had gone to a local club downtown to party. The night was winding down though and it was time to go.
Blair collected the coats and waited by the door for his friends. Paul, with four other cohorts in tow, sashayed to the door. Julie Forsythe, a lanky brunette with a killer smile, and an equally killer slinky dress that hugged all the right curves, clung to Peters arm. Both were pretty buzzed, giggling and very very happy. Mike Dawson, the rugby player come anthropology student, and his date, Mary Gracie, were three sheets to the wind and were being guided by the slightly less drunk Frank Pierce.
Blair handed out coats amidst much laughing teasing and general confusion. While it was fun to be one of the partyers, sometimes it was more fun to simply watch the inebriated students make fools of themselves. Blair grinned as Mike slobbered a kiss, meant for Mary's ear, on her forehead, being an observer definitely had its high points at times.
They walked to the parking lot and after securing his friends within the Volvo, Blair buckled his seatbelt and turned the key. Nothing.
"Whas a matta Blair?" Frank drawled, leaning over into the front seat. Blair laughed as he reached for his cell phone.
"Looks like we're cabbing it home. The car's dead." He dialed the cab number he remembered seeing in the bar. "Hi, could I get a cab at the parking lot of the LavaPit please?...Yup, for Blair Sandburg....thanks."
Blair shut off the phone, and glanced in the rear view mirror at his friends who were mostly leaning on one another, falling asleep. He looked beside him at Pete and grinned.
"Have fun tonight?"
"Oh yeah. It was a blast, Blair. Thanks for setting this up. To bad Jim couldn't come."
"Yeah, well you know how he is. He's not quite comfortable with hanging around you guys yet."
"How long have you two been together."
"Eight months." Blair really didn't want to see the stupid grin that he knew was spread over his face. Its was that bloody infatuated look that he had absolutely no control over, and that his friends joked about whenever Jim's name was mentioned.
"Boy, you do have it bad."
Blair grinned at his friend.
"Oh yeah." Headlights from an approaching car hailed the arrival of the taxi. Blair did a quick head count
"Oh man, Pete, we're not going to all fit. How about you guys take the cab, just get the cash out of my wallet. Make sure that everyone gets home okay. I'll call Jim and get him to pick me up." Blair tossed his wallet over to his friend, to lazy to pulled them out himself.
"You sure?"
"Yeah, the stakeout was supposed to be over by ten, and its going on...what... twelve now? Shouldn't be a problem."
Blair helped Pete get the near comatose grad students into the cab. Blair quickly jotted down the addressed on a scrap piece of paper and handed it to the driver.
"See ya tomorrow Pete. Bye guys!"
Blair waved at the car as it pulled out of the parking lot and went back to the Volvo to get the phone. After trying unsuccessfully to reach Jim at the loft, Blair figured he was still at the stake out. Resigned to taking a cab, he swore softly to himself. as he realized that Pete, in his slightly tipsy state had taken his wallet and the remaining cash that he had. Digging through his pockets he managed to find a handful of change. *Great. Looks like I'm bussing it.*
The night air was chilly as he walked to the nearest bus stop, a slight breeze nipping through the light cotton shirt that he had worn in deference to the heat of the club. The cold leeched the heat from his legs through the black jeans. Jim had frowned when Blair had come downstairs in his outfit. Blair had to admit that it was part of his plan. Get Jim rile up enough and the that lovely jealous streak would have him imagining the most lurid scenes at the bar. Which inevitably meant that he'd be in for a most *interesting* homecoming. And wearing his 'butt jeans' as he put it was all part of the plan. While modestly normally was a very important thing for the young observer, he would be the first to admit that his ass looked mighty fine in these jeans. And given Jim's reaction as he had sashayed out the door earlier this evening, he was perfectly justified.
He shivered as he stood at the lamp post sporing the bus stop sign. *When is the bus going to come anyhow. Geez its cold.* Blair spotted a twenty four hour 7-11. *I wonder if I time to grab a coffee.* Looking around he saw a man approaching and figured he ask for the time.
********
Officer David Collins slowly drove the unmarked police vehicle down the main drag. His partner unwrapped a hamburger and chomped into it with great gusto.
"You know, Marshall's been coming down on the department really hard lately. What's up with that?" Michael Smith, Collins' partner asked around a mouthful.
"Aw he's just worried about us not getting our quotas. You know, like in traffic? So many tickets a month? Well Marshall's got this crazy idea that if we get so many hookers a night we're showing the guys upstairs that Vice is doing its job." Smith broke off as he peered out the window. "And speak of the devil. Looks like we got a bit of action."
Collins followed the direction of his partner's gaze. A young man stood on the curb, approaching a man walking by. The young man's shoulders slumped dejectedly as the older man shook his head and moved on.
"Break out the tally sheet, Mike. I do believe that we can meet our quota tonight."
*******
Blair sighed as the man walked away. Just his luck that the only person he would meet wouldn't have a watch. Rocking back and forth on his heels, he was startled as a bright light suddenly shone in his face. He squinted against the glare and managed to make out the outline of a police cruiser and two burly officers getting out of the car.
"Up against the wall," a voice commanded. Blair held up a hand to block out some of the light.
"Excuse me?" He looked behind him, almost expecting someone else to be there. When he looked back , the two men had moved closer.
"Assume the position. Now." Blair could tell who was speaking now, a hulk of a man with closely cropped hair and a mustache. He held his hands out placatingly.
"I think that there's --- mmmnph!" His protest was cut short as large hands pulled him around and shoved him face first against the brick wall of the building behind them. Unprepared for the move, Blair barely got his hands in front of him, and failed to protect his face. Pain blossomed as his lip split as a result of the impact.
"No ID," The cop said, easily holding the smaller man in place as he frisked him. "So pretty boy, though you could get away with trolling for customers right in front of us, huh?" He gave a Blair a shake, even as Blair began to shake his head.
"Look, I think that there's been a huge mistake --" Blair fell silent as a night stick struck him in the small of his back, right in his kidneys. The blow took his breath away and left him gasping -- not to mention wanting to curl up in a painful ball. But he couldn't so much as lean forward as the strong arms kept him pinned to the wall.
"Listen punk. The only mistake here was the one you made. Now shut up." The older man spat in disgust and gave him another blow, this time along Blair's right side. "Filthy faggot."
Blair's chest clenched painfully and he knew that it had nothing to do with the blows he had receive. *This is not good.*
Part 2
The world exploded into a haze of pain as the beating began in earnest. The grad student tried to curl himself into a ball, wrapping his arms behind his head in an attempt to protect himself from the blows of the nightstick and fists. His body jerked as foot connected with his side and he bit his sorely abused lip, only letting a whimper escape. Blair felt his arms pulled behind his back and cold steel snicking around his wrists as one of the officers cuffed him.
"One down, five to go. I'm thinking we might get our quota yet. Let's run him into the station house." To Blair, the voice seemed far away. He closed his eyes and gave in to a groan as he was hauled upright and pulled over to the car.
"Watch your head," one of them said snidely, after his temple impacted sharply with the door frame. What was one more pain among many, Blair thought blurrily as he tried to curl up on the seat. His side was burning and breathing was something that he really didn't want to do as the stabbing pain, from what he thought could only be a cracked rib, made itself known with each inhalation.
"So, Mike. You're daughter's graduating in a couple of weeks, huh?"
"Yeah. Hard to believe that she's already seventeen. God, they grow up so fast. Darlene wanted to get her a car or a trip to Europe, but really...on a cop's salary? She's lucky we're going to be shelling out half of her college tuition. What about your kid. Isn't he off to university?"
"Sophomore business major. He'll be coming home at the end of semester. He wants to find a summer job here..."
Blair let the inane conversation wash over him. He was bleeding and bruised and the buggers were talking about their kids. He panted weakly, resting his head against the vinyl seat covering. Show no fear. Once they get to the station everything would get sorted out. Jim would come for him. Jim would make everything better. Jim. The world slipped by, the sporadic flashes of the streetlights in the windows making his head pound. He closed his eyes and let the heat of the car enfold him, beckoning him to the welcoming darkness. *Jim.*
*******
"See you later, Rafe," Jim called as the younger detective pulled out of the parking lot at the loft. Rolling his neck, he smiled at the thought of getting Blair to do a nice back rub to get out all of the kinks in his spine from sitting in Rafe's undersized car all night. The outfit that his lover had left for the bar in was enough to keep him on edge all night, to the point where Rafe had asked him if he had ants in his pants. Jim snickered to himself as he jogged up the stairs, too energized to wait for the elevator. He sure had something in his pants, but he was pretty sure that Rafe wouldn't want to know about *that.*
He knew as soon as he opened the door that Blair was still out. There was no softly beating heart, no gently wafting scent filled with those intoxicating phermones. With a sigh, Jim tossed his keys into the basket. So much for a passionate homecoming followed by hot wild sex. He then brightened when he realized there could still be that homecoming -- he would just have to be the welcomer rather than the welcomee. He could do that.
Sentinel vision caught the flashing light on the answering machine from across the room and he went over to see who had called.
//Hey, Jim, its me, Blair...your love slave, rentboy, lover, and all around cock tease.// Jim laughed aloud. Blair was nothing but original in his messages. Jim had learned never to get the messages while Simon was visiting. He had never seen his Captain choking to death on a sip of beer before and he had no desire to repeat the experience. //The car died and I thought that I'd see if you were home. Guess not. I'll get a cab then. Wait up for me, sweetums.//
Jim snorted again. Blair never called him nicknames -- within striking distance anyway -- but would always say something silly like that on phone messages. And Jim didn't mind. He must be in love. Glancing at the clock, Jim frowned as he realized it was well past one o'clock. Blair's message had been left at quarter past twelve. Cop sense atingle, Jim flipped through the address book by the phone until he found Pete Summers number.
//hhhmmm...'llo?"// The voice at the other end was muzzy with sleep.
"Hello...Pete Summers?" Jim asked.
//Uh, yeah.//
"Sorry to wake you, but this is Jim Ellison. Did Blair go home with you?"
//No...he gave me some money for the cab and said he'd call you.//
"I wasn't home. Look. He's not back yet. Do you know where he could be?" Jim started to worry. No, scratch that, he was already worried. He was starting to really worry.
//No, sorry -- oh shit.//
"What...What is it?" Jim demanded, his knuckles clenching on the phone.
"He gave me his wallet to take out some cash...I guess I kept it. Its here on my table."
Jim hung up and was out of the door and down the stairs. First stop, the bar. After that -- he didn't have a plan, but he'd come up with one. With any luck Blair was safe and warm in his office at the university, or with another friend, or even catching a ride with someone on his way home -- perfectly normal, perfectly harmless, perfectly safe.
*******
Blair gasped at every step as the officers led him through the police station. It was just his luck that the officers weren't stationed at the main department where he was at least known by some of the staff. Strange faces met his desperate gaze. He was unceremoniously dumped in a chair, hands still cuffed behind his back. He mostly ignored the conversations going on around him, but the shrill voice of a woman cut through the confusing sounds.
"Look, David. We're swamped with bookings right now. Put him in the back and we'll get to him as soon as we can. We had a gun fight tonight and some hooker -- even if he did resist arrest -- is pretty low on our priority list right now."
Blair couldn't get his wits together enough to protest that he hadn't resisted.
"Okay, Janine. Tell you what. Me and Mike, we'll leave him here and come back in an hour or so and fill out the paperwork, when you're not so busy." Blair watched the tall cop flash a grin at the beleaguered clerk. She blushed and pushed at his shoulder.
"Oh, stop it, Dave. You're married remember." But Blair could tell she was interested and furthermore that she was prepared to agree to the plan. Dave walked over and pulled Blair to his feet with a hand under his arm, painfully stretching the injured man's side.
"Let's go, kiddo. Couple of hours in the holding tank will teach you what happens to people like you," the cop said as he led Blair through the corridors of the precinct.
"L..l...look, man, there's been a mistake...," Blair stuttered as he resisted the urge to curl himself up and scream.
"Tell it to the judge." A vicious twist to his arm cut off anything Blair would have tried to say. They arrived at the holding cell. Blair could see five other people already inside, and they definitely didn't look friendly.
"Here you go, fairy. Next time think twice about trying to sell your ass." The cop pushed him forward with a smirk, and Blair couldn't think of anything else he could have said to make the people inside the cell think the worse of him.
The steel door clanged shut behind them with an ominous echo. Five men -- very large men -- turned to look at their newest cell mate. Blair swallowed painfully, one arm wrapped around his stomach. He slowly sank down to the floor as the stabbing pain pulsed in his side. Fear clenched his belly and it was all Blair could do not to loose his dinner. *Oh god, Jim. Get me out of here.*
Part 3
Jim stood next to the Volvo, frantically and futilely searching for an indication of where Blair could have gone. He could detect the faint scent of Blair's shampoo trailing off towards the main street so he left the truck, deciding to go out on foot. Like a blood hound, Jim focused on the scent, following it to where it permeated the air the strongest. And there was another smell overlaying the heady musk that was Blair. Jim strained to identify it and immediately went on alert as he realized it was blood. Sentinel vision zoomed onto the brick wall and then onto the cement sidewalk. Blair was hurt.
******
Voices. Fuzzy voices. Blair could barely make out what they were saying.
"I think he's waking up."
"Hand me your jacket, would ya?"
Blair bit back a moan as pain returned with consciousness. he could feel the concrete beneath him, leeching the heat from his body. A hand on his neck gently raised his head while another tucked a leather jacket, still warm from being worn, underneath.
"Hey pretty face. Come on, open those gorgeous eyes."
"j...j...jim?" Blair managed to whisper through cracked lips.
"Sorry sugar, no Jim here."
Another hand patted his cheek insistently. Blair's eyelashes fluttered and the small cell gradually swam into focus. Five faces peered down at him, and Blair jerked convulsively away as he remembered where he was.
"Easy there, sweet cheeks. We ain't going to hurt you."
Blair blinked and accepted the helping hands which pulled him gently up and over to the sole bench in the cell.
"Lie down. There you go." A burly black man with a earing in his ear and abs which would Jim jealous, slowly eased Blair down. "I'm Lucas, by the way. These are my friends, Mike, Shawn, Pete and Fred."
Blair almost started laughing at the inane names. They were so...so...so bloody normal for such *unnormal* guys. Mike ported an impressive set of dread locks which offset the rather dapper clothes that stretched across his rather impressive physique, while Shawn and Pete had to have been identical twins from a biker gang movie. Leather studs, leather boots, leather pants, hell, a whole herd of cows died to outfit those guys. Blair tried to reign in his hysterical inner commentary. Fred on the other hand had to have been a sumo wrestler in a former life. Blair shut his eyes and stifled yet another groan...this one at his incredible luck of getting stuck in a cell with five guys who could eat him up and spit him out...not for breakfast...no, he'd be an hors d'oeuvre. Small and tasty. They'd probably have to use toothpicks. Blair clamped down on his wayward thoughts.
"hi...nice...to meet you." He managed to reply after a moment, feeling obliged to say something. He refused to laugh at the complete weirdness of it all. And he was hard pressed not to cry at the loss of what was supposed to be a hot night of sex.
"what you all...in for?" he managed to wheeze. That's it Sandburg. Find out what truly crazed and psycho cell mates you have. It was then he realized that they weren't acting like ordinary criminals. The last time he's been in lock up, when Jim had been kidnaped by Colonel Oliver, the men had made threats, postured, invaded his space and generally made him wish that he had gone to the gym with Jim just a few times more. But these guys...they were fucking polite already! That's when he noticed that Fred had a hand firmly planted on Pete's ass, and Pete didn't show any signs of complaining. And Mike was stroking Shawn's hand in a comforting move that Blair definitely recognized from Jim's behavior. Welcome to the Sandburg zone.
"Well, you see honey. We were down at Darla's," Blair knew the club by reputation only. It was the only bar in Cascade that opened gays with welcome arms. Shawn continued, "And Lucas here starts a fight over some blonde number who couldn't' find his ass with a map..."
"He could too! Don't you dare insult him!" Lucas interrupted. Shawn made shushing motions with his free hand.
"You see? Anyway, everything went to hell in a handbasket, the police come by to break it up and we all end up here. Disturbing the peace and all that jazz. Next thing we now, the cops are throwing your fine self in here with us. Seems to think we'd like a piece of you or something."
"yeah, well...I'm a popular guy...name's Blair, by the way." Blair grinned at the unexpected turn of events and then winced as his ribs decided to make their presence known.
"Blair, you know, I don't want to sound intrusive or anything, but trolling the streets is really not a good idea these days. Do you have any idea the sorts of dangers you face? AIDS? Perverts who would really like to mess a sweet kid like yourself up?" Mike crouched down beside Blair, hand still touching Shawn's.
Blair pushed himself up and groaned.
"Goddamn it I am not a whore!"
The pained shout echoed in the cell, stunning all of the occupants, including Blair. Taking a deep breath, and then regretting it immediately, Blair tried to relax.
'Look. This has all been a huge mistake. I was waiting for the bus! The *bus*!"
"Sure, Blair." The men shook their heads tolerantly.
"Blair, denial is horrible state of mind. You must acknowledge your state of being in order to change. Shawn here is a social worker. Maybe he could set you up in a program or something."
The other men chimed in with useful advice. *What is this...an group intercession for god's sake? Jim...come and shoot me now.*
Blair settled himself against the bench, resigned to be harried to death by a bunch of well meaning cell mates
Part 4
Jim stood at the bus stop, pondering what to do next. He could go home and wait in case Blair called. *Yeah right, and Simon is my fairy godmother,* he snorted. He could put out an APB. That option was looking better and better the longer he stood there. Spotting a parked police cruiser, he jogged over and flashed his badge as he approached.
"Detective Ellison, Major Crimes."
The burly man in the driver seat completely rolled down the window.
"How can we help you, Detective?"
"I was wondering if you'd do me a favor. I'm looking for my partner. He was maybe waiting around here. About five eight, shoulder-length, curly brown hair, dressed in a blue shirt and black jeans?"
The increased heart rate of the two officers pounded like timpani in Jim's ears. They covertly looked at each other.
"Your partner you say?"
"Yeah. He was probably waiting for the bus at that bus stop. But I found some blood and I'm worried that something happened to him. You wouldn't happened to have seen anything would you?"
"Bus stop?" The other cop in the passenger's seat asked plaintively.
:"The one over there." Jim pointed back towards where he found the blood stain. He forced himself to remain calm, slowly letting out the hook to bait the two men into biting. *Come on, fishies, come to papa.* "His car broke down and I was on stake out, I figure he took the bus. Have you seen anyone around?"
"oh god." It was a beneath the breath whisper, but Jim easily heard the panic in the cops voice.
"Is there something you gentlemen would like to tell me?" Jim's voice was laden with sarcasm as he put on his most menacing voice, leaning in towards the window.
********
"Blair Sandburg?" Blair jerked his head as his voice was called from outside the cell. His new 'friends' were still trying to detail the poor choices he was supposedly making, and the dangers that lurked on the streets for young men such as himself.
Blair didn't even get a chance to respond as suddenly his lover was pushing past the clerk who had called his name, rushing up to the bars. Blair pulled himself up and tottered over to meet his distraught partner. Jim stuck his arms between the bars, running his hands over Blair's head and shoulders. Blair closed his eyes as the Jim's comforting hands roamed over his body, checking for contusions and cuts. A gentle finger stroked at his lip, and he opened his eyes to meet the worried gaze of his Sentinel. The love and fear were more than evident in the blue depths that looked down at him.
"Oh man, I am so glad you got here." Blair breathed. Jim cast a wary eye over to the five men who stood looking suspiciously at the detective.
"They hurt you, Chief?"
Blair almost giggled with relief.
"Nah. Only tortured me with kindness." He stroked a hand across Jim's forearm. "I'm okay. Sore ,but okay."
"I found the men who arrested you. They're being suspended."
"Can i go home?" Blair whispered, closing his eyes again as Jim stroked his cheek.
"Yeah." Jim motioned to the clerk who opened the cell. "Let's go home, Chief."
Blair turned to the men remaining in the cell, who had been watching the proceedings with interest. The smiles and knowing winks put a wry grin on Blair's face.
"I was just waiting for the bus." Content to get the last word in -- and pointedly ignoring the hungry looks that were being directed to Jim -- he allowed Jim to drape a protective arm around his shoulders after wrapping him in his coat. With one last affectionate pat on the cheek, Jim guided him out the door, staring fiercely at the clerk, daring him to comment about his behavior.
Once at the truck, which Jim had parked haphazardly outside the precinct, Blair gratefully sank onto the seat with a sigh. Jim got in behind the wheel and put the keys in the ignition but paused. Blair turned, wondering what was the matter, and found himself on the receiving end of a passionate kiss. Jim's lips closed on his own, tongue teasing at his mouth to open. Blair moaned and placed his hands on Jim's shoulders, squeezing hard. Breaking apart, they both gasped for air.
"What was that for, Jim?"
"Just because."
"Uh, huh. Right." Blair sat back, face flushed. Jim turned the key and pulled out of the lot. Time to go home. Blair idly wondered what the most comfortable position would be for his ribs. A hand stroking his thigh, brought his gaze back to bear on Jim's face.
"Jim, I'm okay. Really." Blair put out a hand to capture Jim's. He clutched it between both of his, recognizing Jim's need to connect and reassure himself that Blair was okay. Blair could identify with the feeling, and was in no hurry to relinquish his lover's hand any time soon.
The trip to the loft seemed to take forever and Blair was drifting, idly stroking Jim's hand, head swaying with the movement of the truck. Jim opened his door for him and helped him down, the mother-henning more than welcome as his stiff muscles protested. Blair sighed in relief as the elevator purred upwards towards the third floor. As they entered the loft, he made up his mind. He had gone out this evening with the intention of getting well loved when he got back, and by golly, it was going to happen.
"I'm going upstairs, you okay to lock up?" he asked Jim. The older man nodded and he pulled the jacket off Blair's shoulders, carefully hanging it on its hook.
Blair mounted the steps as quickly as he could, unbuttoning his jeans and shirt as he went. He quickly stripped and then mounded the pillows in the center of the bed after turning back the covers. Moving carefully, he lay down on his stomach, propping himself up with the pillows. The soft pillow covers were gentle on his bruised skin and he sank into the soft foaminess, moaning with pleasure.
There was a growl from downstairs and Blair smiled softly to himself, feeling his bourgeoning erection press against one of the pillows. Soft footsteps sounded on the stairs and the Blair could hear the soft inhalation as Jim saw his bared body, legs spread, open to his lover's gaze. Blair gave his ass a little wiggle of encouragement and was rewarded as the mattress dipped slightly.
"Blair...your ribs...is this..?" Jim hesitated.
"Jim, if you don't fuck me into oblivion, I swear to god your right hand is going to be getting the workout of its life for the next month." Blair grated. Jim laughed lightly and ran a hand from the nape of his neck down to the swell of his ass, eliciting a groan and a full body shiver. "Just let me lie here and enjoy the ride, man. I'm all yours."
"...And I'm yours" Jim whispered in his ear, nipping at the lobe and pulling at the silver loop. Blair could feel him reach across the bed to the night table, grabbing the tube. Blair forced himself to resist the urge to push back on the fingers that gently entered him, scissoring to prepare him.
Floating on a sea of emotions, Blair clenched his muscles around Jim's cock, gently milking the firm shaft that penetrated him. He could feel Jim covering him with his body, thrusting in a smooth rolling motion, slowly taking his lover to the brink of ecstacy.
"I was so worried about you," Jim panted into his ear. "I kept thinking what if something happened. What if I would never hold you in my arms. What if I could never feel *this* ever again." Jim pulled back, almost completely withdrawing and then entered again.
"Oh god, Jim," Blair moaned. "Don't stop. Don't. Love you. Love you. Never leave you."
He could feel the pleasure building and growing, his cock throbbing with the lack of stimulation, leaking fluid into the pillow cover beneath him. Jim increased the timing of his thrusts and sucked gently on the skin behind Blair's ear. Blair moaned and tenses beneath him, muscles clenching, pulling Jim's climax from him.
In the hazy aftermath of coming so hard he could swear his brain imploded, Blair could feel Jim's weight slightly increase, but not enough to make him uncomfortable. He brought a hand up and lazily patted at the short hair on the head at this shoulder, spasmodically clenching and unclenching around Jim's softening cock.
"You okay?" Jim asked as he withdrew slowly, both of them reluctant to break the intimate connection.
"Hmmmm," Blair hummed, absently continuing his petting. Jim maneuvered them about so that Blair was no longer resting on the pillows but was instead firmly settled on Jim.
"Go to sleep, babe," Jim murmured. With a snuggle, a wriggle that threatened to spark Jim's drive again, and a soft contented sigh, Blair complied. The last sensation he felt before dropping into the depths of sleep was that of Jim slowly massaging the back of his scalp. Loved, at so many levels, the two men slept and were joined, even in their dreams.
The End
Feedback appreciated like...like...well I can't come up with an analogy...but I'd like it anyway <g> If anyone would like to offer to beta this for me, let me know...I'd like to post it to another slash list, but only betaed...'cause they're not as nice as all of us here :)