Title: Curing What Ails You

Author/pseudonym: galadriel

Fandom: Sentinel

Paring: Jim Ellison/Blair Sandburg [M/M]

Status: new and improved version to wwomb

Archive: yes

Series/Sequel: no

Other websites: none

Disclaimers: see story

Notes: first time, humor, romantic, drama. See story for additional notes.

Warnings: NC-17 for tasteful but graphic m/m content; minor language usage and teeny, tiny religious reference that the sensitive might find offensive.

Summary: In hopes of relieving severe pain from which he is suffering, Blair tries a new meditation technique with unusual results.

CURING WHAT AILS YOU

by galadriel

RATING: NC-17 for m/m sexual situations and a teeny, tiny religious reference that may offend the sensitive. Romantic, first time, humourous.

DISCLAIMER: Don't own 'em, never will. They belong to Pet Fly and I guess, Paramount. No infringement on copyright is intended and no money or trade goods changed hands. This is written solely for my own pleasure and for those Sentinel fans who, like me, may just be slightly off the wall.

NOTE: words contained *within asterisks* constitute a character's internal thoughts. And no, I'm not going overboard describing how sick Blair feels. I wrote this description one night recently in an attempt to capture just how ill I was feeling. Wasn't sure how it would turn into a story, but I knew it would sooner or later. Thanks to Larry for the fast beta job. And to Kaci for her continuing encouragement and for helping me figure out how to post stories. Please do not repost without my expressed consent.

PS. I know you've heard it before, but, this is my first time (posting more than a short obsenad on senad that is) so please be gentle with me.
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His mind was reeling under continued assault, but he kept telling himself that there was nothing out of the ordinary wrong with him. He was sure of it. Except maybe for his sense of taste and smell. Yet he was hot, so very hot. And cold. He was sweating while shivering overwhelmed him; his body had lost its ability to regulate its temperature. His shoulder muscles caused stabbing pains in his upper back; his lower back just throbbed; his neck was so tight he felt like some insane chiropractor had adjusted it with a torque wrench. His eyes burned; his vision kept blurring; his head felt like it was about to explode.

He couldn't sleep. He couldn't stay awake. He itched from head to toe; his hair felt too stiff and heavy on his head, he couldn't stand the weight when he pulled it back or put it up, but it steamed up his neck when it was down. His stomach roiled slightly, nausea ran through him like some crazed tide. He couldn't stop yawning.

Something was wrong with his sense of smell as well as his sense of taste. All he could sense was something sickly sweet, musty and rotten and it followed him everywhere, tickling his nose and causing food to taste vile in his mouth.

He couldn't read, he couldn't watch tv, he couldn't concentrate. He had what his grandmother used to call 'schpilkes' which translates roughly to 'ants in his pants'. Meditation. Maybe he could meditate. He lit a delicately scented candle and turned on a light. Then he pulled out his kaleidoscope, made himself comfortable by leaning against the couch and concentrated his attention on the 'scope's thrilling, ever-changing stained-glass style rosette patterns. He began to take long slow breaths and concentrate on the ever-changing beauty before him. It took a little effort to turn it, but the 'scope was oil based and the design kept changing for long moments while its contents continued to float after each twist.

Jim returned from work, threw his keys in the basket by the door and headed into the apartment. He found Blair sitting mesmerized, staring at the light through a tube. His heart beat and respiration rate were way down. *What the hell?* Concerned, Jim crossed the great room and sat near Blair on the floor.

"Chief?" No answer. "Chief, what's going on here?" Again no answer. He placed his hands on Blair's shoulders and shook him gently. "Blair, talk to me, what's going on here?"

"No pain. No pain. It's gone."

Jim put one arm around Blair's back and clutched his shoulders a little tighter as he spoke to him, "What are you talking about Sandburg?" Jim inhaled deeply; he could smell no drugs or liquor on his friend, only the beer in the refrigerator and over the counter drugs in the bathroom. *What's happening? What can he possibly be babbling about?*

He tried unsuccessfully to remove the wooden tube with the exquisite inlay work from Blair's hands. He could pry it loose, but was afraid he would hurt Blair or damage the tube, or both.

With an ethereal look on his face, Blair suddenly begged, "Jim, Jim, could you massage my scalp? Work the muscles in my neck and back? Please?"

*Uh oh. We have suddenly crossed over into the Sandburg zone, a different dimension of sight and sound . . . Rod Serling, where are you when I need you? Maybe he's standing out on the patio! Perhaps I ought to go look.* "Uh, sure Chief. I'll be glad to." But Blair didn't move, in essence forcing Jim to climb over him to sit on the couch and straddle him, with one long leg on either side of the younger man's body. Blair never moved that damned tube from in front of his face, either. All he did was turn it slightly from time to time. *I guess I'll deal with the root cause of this semi-zone out later, but right now, I'm not going to look a gift horse in the mouth,* thought Jim.

Jim had been wanting to run his hands over Blair's hair for ... well it seemed like ... forever. To feel it twist and curl around his fingers, clinging to him for long moments before releasing its grasp and letting go. He found that some hairs were smooth and straight, letting his fingers slide easily, while others, the ones that accounted for Blair's signature curls, were kinky, uneven in thickness causing them to lay at varying angles and catch at Jim's fingers. They all felt so different, as did all the little irregularities on Blair's scalp and in the bones where his skull had knit together when he was just a tyke. A picture of Blair at about age three drifted thru his mind's eye. A curly haired, determined little guy in red overalls, red keds and a striped tee shirt with his arms crossed over his chest and his head shaking from side to side. "Nope," the child in his vision said, "No, I won't."

*I must be projecting. He couldn't have already been like that when he was three, could he?* He moved his broad hands over Blair's neck, across his shoulders and back, kneading away knots in the muscles and searching out sensitive spots to stroke that would bring Blair pleasure.

Blair leaned forward, giving Jim greater access to his lower back. Jim leaned over him for maximum extension when he smelled it. There, mixed with Blair's essential scent and the mild scent of the soap, shampoo and other sundry items that Blair used on his clothing and body was another scent, deep and earthy. *What is that scent? It's pheremones. Blair's body is releasing pheremones as a direct result of our physical contact.* Jim certainly wasn't expecting that and under the circumstances, it was the last thing he'd noticed.

*Why now? What's so different? Why haven't I smelled his body releasing pheremones in my presence before I wonder? It must have to do with this whole weird situation.*

"Blair, I can smell pheremones being released by your body. Do you want ... to carry our relationship further? Are you certain that you want me to make love with you? You must know by now that I'm truly devoted to you, this can't be a one time thing or a passing affair. It will change our lives forever."

"Yes, I want to make love with you. Yes, I'm aware of what it would mean to you. Yes, it means the same to me. Sentinel and guide. Jim and Blair. Two bodies, one soul. Just call it magic."

Jim picked him up and lay him on the couch. He removed his own clothing and lovingly undressed Blair. All except for Blair's shirt that is, since Blair refused to let go of that G-d damned tube. Jim then engaged in a little known religious ritual; he worshiped at the altar of Blair's body, communing directly with Blair's mind via touch. He placed his entire body against Blair's, not content to use just his hands, mouth and teeth, he also used his skin, the largest of all human organs to touch and entice Blair. Every whimper, every moan, every unintelligible sound, every 'Ooh, Ah, Oh Jim' told him that he was successfully pleasuring Blair. Yet sometimes when he looked to Blair's face, hoping to see blue eyes and a broad grin, he would swear that Blair was holding that damned tube so he could somehow see into it again. Despite his discomfort with this behavior, Jim settled his mouth over Blair's groin, nipping at his perineum, handling, licking and sucking his testicles and finally settling his mouth over Blair's penis, moving in a steady rhythm. Blair began to breathe erratically as he thrust his hips up toward Jim. With a little more stimulation from Jim's knowledgeable and sensitive lips and tongue, the younger man's testicles drew tight to his body and he came in Jim's mouth with a shudder.

Blair's breathing steadied as he began to relax, but Jim could swear that he was still on some other plane of existence, sneaking peeks into that tube every now and again.

"Ah, Jim, that was awesome. It's time I return the favor. Now, I want you to just lie here on the couch and take this 'scope. I want you to look into it, and turn it from time to time. Don't concentrate too hard on it, instead, just use it to keep from zoning out on your other senses. Enjoy the colors and the exquisite patterns that develop as I make love to you."

As surely as Jim was to move while Blair made love to him that was how surely the patterns and designs in the kaleidoscope changed: languidly, quickly, ever transforming and floating in time and space as the minds and bodies of lovers do.

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"Well, Jim, sure beats meditation doesn't it? It cures what ails a body whether the body knows it's ailing or not."

"Don't be such a smart-ass."

However, from then on, neither Blair nor Jim could attend an arts festival, enter a store selling quality hand made goods or even, upon occasion a discount store or the corner pharmacy without seeing at least one kaleidoscope. Alone, one would grin. Together, they would look knowingly at each other. There it was, another virtual love machine displayed for all to see, no plain brown wrapper in sight.

Their kaleidoscope collection grew, and they often gave kaleidoscopes as gifts to friends. The cards they attached to their gifts always read: "From Our House to Yours, With Love, Jim and Blair."

~~~~~~FINI~~~~~~