His Master's Voice 17

By CatMoran

Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended. I don't own the canon characters or concept; I do own this story.

Summary: We continue with the saga of a vampire and his sentinel.

Warning: None.

Notes: Yes, this part has actually been beta'd! By none other than my fic-sis, Rogue. All remaining errors, and the general lack of friskiness for an NC-17 story, are my fault not hers!

His Master's Voice 17
By CatMoran
*****

Jim closed his eyes and dropped his head to rest against the back of the couch.

Blair leaned over and dropped a quick kiss on his mouth. "Thanks, man."

"What're you thanking me for?"

"For standing up to Simon for me."

"You'd have done fine without me, Sandburg."

"Still... I appreciate it."

"And I made you tell him *your* secret."

Blair sat back and regarded his mate fondly. "I don't remember you twisting my arm, Jim. If you can trust him with your secret, I can trust him with mine."

Jim felt more than heard Blair rise from the seat next to him. He chose to ignore it. Exhausted from a short night and a stressful couple of days, he fully expected to go to sleep right there.

What felt like only seconds later, he felt a hand gently shake his knee.

"Come on, man. You can't sleep here, you'll wreck your neck. Besides, you should eat something before you crash."

Jim opened his eyes and gazed at the ceiling for a moment, before pulling his head upright to look at Blair's amused face. Blair swung around gracefully to land next to him, then leaned forward to pull two bowls of food off the coffee table and hand one to him.

After a grunt of thanks and a taste of the stew in his bowl, Jim asked. "How long did I sleep?"

Blair picked through the bowl of raw vegetables on his lap and replied, "Just a few minutes."

"This is pretty good. When'd you have time to make it?"

"A couple weeks ago, it was in the freezer."

Jim grinned. "You braved the freezer for me? Aw, Blair. I'm touched."

"Yeah, you're touched all right. In the head!" Blair grinned in return. "So what happened to you today?"

"Well, I told you the arson suspect got the jump on me on the roof."

"Right... What roof?"

"Of the KCDE building."

Blair whistled. "Man, that thing's gotta be 20 stories tall!"

"Tell me about it. I was hanging from the edge for a few minutes."

Blair slowly placed his dinner on the coffee table, then turned and stared at Jim. Jim continued to eat, and pretended that the silent stare wasn't making him nervous. Finally, he cracked. "*What*, Sandburg?"

"Maybe I *should* just have you for dinner. It'd be quicker, you know."

Jim scowled. "*What*??"

"Which is it, Jim? Do you have a death wish, or a super-hero complex?"

"Sandburg, would you make sense?"

"Man, you *know* I hate heights!"

"Blair, you weren't even there!"

"And that's my point!"

"I already promised I wouldn't go out again without backup!"

"Fine! Just so long as you remember that." Abruptly Blair reached out without looking, grabbed a tomato from the coffee table, and sank his fangs into it. Jim stared, transfixed, for a moment, then turned his attention back to his own dinner. At that, Blair turned to face the coffee table.

A few minutes later Jim started to stand.

"Wait a sec, Jim." Blair blocked him with an arm and took the empty bowl from him. "You want some more?"

"No, I'm just going to clean up. Unless I need backup for that, too?"

"Jim, I'm sorry. I just got a little upset when you told me you spent part of the day practicing to be a street pizza."

"I guess I understand. I'm going to turn in early, ok?"

"You want me to come upstairs with you?"

Jim glanced out the window, then up at his bedroom. "I guess that'd be ok. It's not too bright up there this time of the evening. I'll set my alarm clock to make sure we don't sleep through to dawn."

Blair paused on his way to the kitchen. "Do you think that's necessary?"

"Until we run more tests, yeah."

*****

Jim tossed and turned, trying to find a comfortable position that would allow him to keep an arm around Blair. He almost wished Blair had left him on the couch, but he knew the younger man was right; he'd have really messed up his back and neck sleeping like that.

"What's wrong, Jim?"

"My shoulders are cramping."

Blair climbed out of the bed.

"Hey, where are you going?"

"I'll be right back, I'm just going to grab something from downstairs."

Jim admired Blair's body, clad in flannel boxer shorts, as he walked across the room. Then he tracked his progress down the stairs and into his room. Drawers were pulled out, the contents shifted around, until he finally heard an exclamation of success. Blair then made a brief stop at
the linen closet - towels? - and made his way to the kitchen.

Jim recognized the clump of the smaller mixing bowl as it was placed in the sink, and filled with water. For a few minutes he drifted on the sound of the microwave, then the microwave was opened before the timer went off. Something was placed in the bowl, and Jim listened as Blair
returned up the stairs.

He appeared at the top, holding the mixing bowl, with a smaller plastic bottle half-floating in the water inside it.

"What's that?"

Blair grinned. "Massage oil."

"Heated?"

"Just warmed a little." Blair set the towels on the bed, laid one on the nightstand, and placed the bowl on top of that. "Ok, off with your shorts and roll over." He illustrated the last instruction with a circular motion of his hand.

"Gee, sweet talk me, why don't you?" Jim grumbled as his hands settled on the elastic waist of his shorts.

Blair smiled wider. "This isn't romance, this is therapy."

Jim scowled. "Sandburg, do you know what you're doing?"

"Of course! Naomi took a class in massage, and she taught me. Now, off with 'em!" Blair moved forward to take matters into his own hands, and Jim hurriedly pushed his shorts off and rolled to his stomach. Blair placed a towel strategically across Jim's buttocks, laid another smaller towel out on the side of the bed, and retrieved the now warm bottle of oil from the bowl.

"What's that for?"

"What, the oil?"

"No, the towel. You saw me last night. And this morning. And just now, when you got grabby with my shorts." Jim muttered the last in mock indignation.

"Jim, I told you. Therapy now, romance later. I want you to *relax*. If we were doing this for entertainment, then there'd be no towel."

"You're twisted if you believe that, Chief."

"It's all in the symbols, man. Now close your eyes, and try to relax."

With that, Blair knelt next to him. His hands deftly targeted every ache and knot in Jim's shoulders and arms, and then his back. Soon he was limp as putty--nearly everywhere. "Ok, roll onto your back now." Blair ordered.

Jim cocked one eye open lazily and asked, "Why?"

"Because your shoulders are a mess, Jim. I want to work on them from the front, too."

"What if I don't want you to." Jim muttered into his pillow.

"Jim..." The corner of Blair's mouth quirked. "Have you got a problem?"

"What do you think? It's *your* symbol, Darwin. Not mine!" Jim grumbled.

Blair chuckled. "Ok, I can be flexible. Therapy now, with romance to immediately follow. Now, roll over so I can finish!"

With a groan, Jim twisted onto his back, tugging the towel around to ineffectively hide his 'problem'. He draped one arm over his reddening face, only to have it tugged down by Blair. "James, I can't finish the massage if you're tensing up. Now, *relax*. Like you pointed out, I've
already *seen* you. You have nice 'attributes', you've got nothing to worry about."

Blair's hands moved just as smoothly and firmly as before, and soon Jim was once again reduced to putty. He was nearly relaxed enough to sleep, when he felt one of Blair's hands gently stroke his upper thigh. "So, Jim," Blair began in a husky voice, "would you like me to take care of your problem now?" Blair smiled, and Jim could almost see the light dancing in his eyes through the sunglasses.

Jim smiled in reply and nodded. Blair leaned down and gently devoured his mouth, as his clever hands went to work. Too relaxed to arch into the stimulation, Jim felt as if he was swept along to a most satisfying completion. He barely had the energy to whisper "love you" as he drifted to sleep.

Blair sat back on his heels, entranced by the sight in front of him. Not just Jim, although the older man was certainly as beautiful as a living statue of a Roman god. But his seed, puddled on his stomach, glittered brighter than a thousand diamonds, more wonderfully than a sea of stars.

Worshipfully, Blair dipped a finger into the substance, and brought it to his mouth. At the contact with his tongue, his body shuddered in wonder. Forgetting the towels and cooling water, Blair bowed down to capture the gift before it died.

The End
(c) CatMoran 2000