Title: Tendencies

Author/pseudonym: Mona Ramsey (MonaR.)

Fandom: The Sentinel

Pairing: Jim Ellison/Blair Sandburg

Rating: NC-17

Status: Complete, stand-alone.

Archive: Yes to WWOMB.

E-mail address for feedback: monaram@yahoo.com

Series/Sequel: No.

Other websites: None.

Disclaimers: Not mine.

Notes: Written in honour of my keeperships.

Summary: Sometimes Jim's 'tendencies' are a problem - and sometimes they aren't.

Warnings: Explicit slash (m/m) content.

"Tendencies"

by Mona Ramsey

Blair stumbled down the stairs from the bedroom, yawning and scratching his bare chest. Blue-and-white pajama bottoms with starships on them were all that he wore - a particularly embarrassing birthday present from Jim that he wore all the time because they were soft and warm, and let's face it, Cascade didn't acknowledge summer as a season until at least mid-June.

He walked over to the couch and curled himself into the corner. "What the hell are you doing,

Jim?"

Jim poked his head up over the kitchen counter, took one look at his sleepy partner, and snorted.

"Nice 'do, Chief. What do you feed it?"

Blair wrinkled his nose into a disgusted pout and flipped him off, sliding his outstretched hand

into his hair and raising the unruly curls even *more* on edge. "It's three-thirty in the damn

morning, Jim. Normal people sleep and get bed head and pillow-crease and morning breath until at least seven. Give me a break." He shivered and wrapped his arms around his chest, hugging himself for warmth. "It's *cold* down here, man."

"You could put a shirt on."

Blair shrugged. "Couldn't find it. You still haven't told me what you're doing."

"I couldn't sleep, so, being the magnanimous, thoughtful person I am, rather than tossing and

turning and waking you up, I decided to come down here and *do* something."

"You could have woken me up. You *did* wake me up," Blair amended, grumpily. "I may not have Sentinel senses, but I can still hear banging in the middle of the night." He grinned, sleepily,

and added, "Not the *good* kind, either."

Jim chuckled. "Sorry, Blair. You don't always wake up in the 'good way' in the middle of the

night, if I remember correctly."

"Depends on what's waking me up. 'Little Jim' poking me in the back - "

"I asked you a hundred times not to call it that, Blair."

"Okay," Blair grinned. "'Big Jim' poking me in the back when I'm in a dead sleep is like, *so*

not romantic. A guy likes a little foreplay every once in a while."

"The hell you do. Who pinned *who* against the shower wall yesterday morning?"

"I was inspired. You know that soap you use turns me on. And the sight of you, naked in the shower, all naked and squeaky-clean and dripping water - " Blair shivered again - not from the cold, however - his eyes glazing over a little, a low growl sounding from somewhere deep in his chest.

"*Oxygen* turns you on, Chief. Food. The passage of time. Me showing up in your general vicinity, clothed or not. You are, without doubt - and I mean this in the best *possible* way - the easiest person I've ever met."

"Flattery will get you a kick in the ass, Jim." Blair stood up and walked over to the kitchen. "You still haven't told me what you're doing."

"Nothing."

"Then you're really bad at it, 'cause you are doing nothing *way* too loud."

"I just dropped a - "

"Oh, my *god*!" Blair finally came around the counter edge, and stood there, aghast. "You are *the* most anal person I've ever met. You're alphabetizing the spices again, aren't you?"

"I had to do *something*," Jim said, flushed a little at getting 'caught' housekeeping in the middle of the night. "I couldn't sleep," he added, weakly.

"I bet you even - " Blair flung open the two nearest cupboard. "My god - the soup, the canned

fruit, the *cereal*?" He shut the cupboard doors, shaking his head. "You are a man possessed, Jim Ellison. You must be stopped, for your own good, and for the good of the country."

"Neatness is next to godliness, Sandburg," Jim retorted. "You'd realize that if you ever took the time to pick up a sock from the bedroom floor. Re-cap the toothpaste. Dump your used teabags in the *garbage* instead of in the sink. You give filth a bad name. There are dust-bunnies under

your bed that would shriek and melt like the Wicked Witch of the West if they ever saw the light of day."

"*My* bed? Man, that bed hasn't been anything but a polite show of heterosexuality to the narrow-minded since the day you decided you needed to use my body like the love-pillow it was meant to be. And if you want it clean, you can just march in there and - " Realizing that Jim was no longer looking him in the eye but rather somewhere around his left ear, Blair stopped, mid-sentence, and walked calmly into the now-abandoned bedroom. After a moment, he calmly walked out again. "The dust-bunnies, Jim? Did you at least give them a decent funeral?"

"As good as they deserved, Blair," Jim nodded. "Kicked 'em to the curb."

Sighing, Blair shook his head, and took Jim's hand, pulling the man up from his squat on the floor. Leading him over to the couch, he sat him down and sat next to him, throwing his legs over Jim's lap. "You're hopeless. I never thought that I could fall in love with a man with such pronounced anal tendencies."

"Never bothered you before," Jim leered, biting his earlobe. "Unless you're really good at faking it, you *love* my 'anal tendencies'."

"When they involve bumping uglies and waking up on top of you in the wet spot, I love 'em," Blair

said. "When I have to sing the alphabet song just to find something to have for lunch, not so much."

"'Bumping uglies'?"

"Doing the wild thing. Partying hearty. Making the beast with two backs." Blair grinned. "Playing doctor."

"That's something we haven't done in a while."

"Mmm," Blair agreed, twisting a bare nipple between two fingers. "I *like* playing doctor. Reminds me of when we met."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I knew right away, man, first time I saw you - you *so* wanted me." His fingers moved to the other nipple, after a pause at his mouth to lick the pads on the tips of them with a wet tongue.

Jim was watching him touch himself, rapt. Then the realization of what Blair had just said struck

his blood-deprived brain. "The hell I did!"

"Oh, come *on*, Jim," Blair said, smoothly running his hands down his furry stomach, pausing at the tops of his draw-string pajama bottoms. "That whole 'throw-me-up-against-the-wall-and-threaten-me' thing was *so* a show of proprietary masculinity. You were staking out your territory, man, and showing me that you intended to be the dominant, alpha male in our relationship. You might as well have humped my leg."

"Or pissed on it?" Jim grinned.

Blair stopped his hands' movement into his pajama bottoms, his nose wrinkling again. "*Ew*. In

case I haven't mentioned it before, I am *not* into watersports, golden showers, or anything else

that involves any bodily fluid other than spit and semen. Understood?"

"Loud and clear."

Nodding his head, Blair moved his hands over the velvet-softness of the fabric, cupping his fabric-encased genitals and stroking them through the pajama bottoms. "Good."

Jim's voice was a hoarse rasp. "*Real* good, Chief."

Smiling, Blair looked up into the more-dilated-by-the-second eyes of his Sentinel. Jim hadn't made

a move to touch himself at all, even though he was only 'pinned' lightly by Blair's legs and could

easily have escaped the confinement. He seemed more interested in what Blair was doing to

himself, and watched intently to see what would come next.

Blair leaned back against the arm of the couch and raised his ass a little, sliding the pants down to

his ankles. Nude underneath, he lifted his heavy, blood-filled cock in his hands gingerly, wanting

to make this last as long as he possibly could - both to prolong the pleasure and to torture Jim, a

little. "Saliva," he said, licking a finger and swiping it over the flared head of his cock, sending a shiver through his body and Jim's, "is a *very* good thing, though." He raised his finger, mingled wetness from his finger and his leaking cock, to Jim's mouth and traced the lips.

Jim's tongue reached out, followed the same trail, sharp essence of Blair exploding on his tongue and filling his mouth with his own saliva as a result. "Yeah," he agreed, swallowing hard. "And semen."

"Mmm," Blair purred. "And," he added, raising his ass up once again, planting his feet on Jim's left

thigh, "anal tendencies *do* have a place in any good relationship." He wet his finger once again

on the head of his cock, and reached around, staring at Jim, who seemed almost breathless

watching as Blair finger-fucked himself.

Jim nodded, vigorously. "Oh, definitely."

"Absolutely," Blair grunted, pushing the finger in as far as he could reach, and slipping it out again.

Heat flooded Jim's extremities. "Jesus, Blair - "

"Problem?" Blair teased, now openly fisting his cock. He was close, he could feel it, but he didn't want to be - not yet. The finger-fucking hadn't only teased Jim; Blair found himself wanting a more direct show of Jim's 'tendencies', too. He forced himself to stop, closing his eyes and taking a few deep breaths; then, when he thought he could move without coming all over the couch, he kicked the pajama bottoms the rest of the way off. Shifting his weight, he forced himself up and over until he was straddling Jim, his arms around Jim's neck. His cock, hard and standing nearly vertical, brushed a slippery trail over Jim's muscled abdomen.

"No problem, Chief," Jim answered, breathless.

"Good." Blair leant down and attached his mouth to Jim's, still able to taste just the barest trace of himself in the wet warmth. Sucking on his tongue, he felt Jim fumbling with his own shorts, trying to figure out a way to take them off without dumping one or both of them on the floor. The perverse part of him made him keep kissing the desperate man, even as he felt Jim's cock press hard against his inner thigh, a wet spot soaking through the thin fabric.

Jim tried to lift up, only managing about a half an inch before he felt Blair slipping out of his arms. Frustrated, he rested down again, clasping Blair around the back, hands so tight they made hot, red prints against Blair's skin.

"And you call *me* easy?" Blair laughed, letting him go at last. He stood up, his cock thrust forward about level with Jim's chin, and yanked on the other man's boxers, tossing them carelessly

away to land on top of the tv. He smoothly kneeled down and took the now-free cock in his

mouth, coating it with saliva from base to tip as Jim's surprised groans echoed in his ears.

"That's - because you - *are*, Sandburg," Jim gasped. His head was thrown back, resting on the

couch, his hands clenched into fists as he struggled to control himself. "*Fuck*, Blair."

"You really want me to?" Blair asked, straddling him again. "I can, but I think I want it more,

right now." He sat down, gingerly, taking Jim's stiff cock inch by straining inch inside his ready

body. "Oh, *god*," he sighed, as he finally came to a rest on Jim's lap, his sweating forehead

pressed against the older man's chest. "So good, Jim. You feel *so* good."

Jim bit at Blair's lips, thrusting his tongue as deep inside his mouth as he could, trying to imitate the feel of his cock sheathed inside the incredible, tensed heat of Blair's ass. They stilled, kissing, Jim's hands tangled in Blair's hair, Blair's once again wrapped around Jim's neck, not moving anything but tongues and lips.

And then, when Jim didn't think he could take anymore sensation, his skin one big nerve-ending,

Blair began to move. He *had* to break the kiss, the groan demanding to be let free. Blair grabbed his shoulders for leverage, and fucked himself on Jim's cock, squeezing his muscles, demanding the orgasm that was his due. They were both sweating profusely, the air in the loft a heady mix of sweat and pheromones. Jim wished he could bottle that air, cap it and breathe it in when he was alone and needy and wanted more than memories and his own hands to bring himself off.

But he didn't need it *now*. He had Blair, gripping him so tightly that he knew his shoulders would ache for a week and so would his cock, but he didn't care. He didn't care if he had bruises

everywhere - shoulders, lips, nipples, cock - he wanted *this* so badly. He forced his eyes open

so he could watch Blair move, watch his hair fly and stick in wet tendrils to his cheeks and

forehead, watch his eyes shut tight as if to open them would set them both off, watch his teeth worry his lips, reddening them further than what their kisses had already accomplished, watch his

Adam's apple move as he swallowed. Everything about him was involved in this fuck.

He reached his arms around Blair's waist, stilling him, knowing that he was close, and thrust up

inside him, with his hips alone. Blair groaned, buried his head in the hollow between Jim's head and his shoulder and bit into the tender skin there, hard, as he came. His tensed, shuddering body and the teeth marking him set off Jim, as well, and he gripped the floor so hard he thought his toes would leave grooves.

It was like flying on waves, heat hitting Jim's chest and stomach, dripping down, flooding inside

Blair's body. They shuddered together, and clenched, and released, and then came down,

boneless and blissed-out stupid.

"Damn," Blair finally managed. He was plastered to Jim's chest, arms limp and flung forward.

"Oh, yeah," Jim agreed. He leaned his head to one side, listening to his neck pop, then snapped it

back. "I thought you broke something there, Sandburg," he said, rubbing at the deep-red hickey

on his neck.

"Just marking my territory like a good alpha-male," Blair grinned, and licked at Jim's fingers.

"Shouldn't that be *my* job?"

"Nah. You just *think* you're the alpha. Everyone knows that I get to be on top."

"Yup, and I get to do the fucking," Jim agreed.

"This time, babe. Next time, your ass - anal tendencies and all - is mine." He reached around and pinched Jim for good measure.

"Neo-hippie witchdoctor - " Jim muttered, under his breath.

"Sweet talk will only get you an hour of loneliness, Jim, as you attempt to get the come stains out of the coach by yourself, while *I* go back to bed." Blair stood up, shaking his hair out of his face. "Come on," he said, pulling Jim to his feet. "Bed. Sleep. No moving until the sun is well in the sky, even if I have to tie you up."

"Uh, Blair - " Jim said, reluctantly, looking at the messy couch.

"*No*, Jim. No way, not a chance. The couch can wait until tomorrow - or, should I say, until a

*reasonable* hour today. Until then, you are my love-slave, not Hazel." He paused. "And that is

*so* not a sexual image. Maybe that cute gay housemaid in 'The Birdcage'."

"Spartacus?"

Blair bust out laughing. "Man, you in hot pants - or drag. I would pay *so* much for one good shot in a French maid outfit."

"I'll fit you out tomorrow, Sandburg," Jim said, slinging Blair over one shoulder in a fireman's hold.

"Not for *me*, Jim - " Blair protested.

"Yeah, right. Which one of us do you think we could find fishnet stockings for?"

"Not if you paid me, Jim. I'm serious."

"Right, Blair. Whatever you say." Jim started up the stairs.

"I'm *serious*, Jim. If I wake up one morning in miniskirt and stilettos - "

Jim stopped, bent his head around to look at him. "You'll what?"

Blair frowned. "Do something bad to you. Very bad."

"You call that a threat?"

"Hey, I can't think when all the blood is rushing to my head."

Jim dropped him in a heap on the bed. "Guess I'll have to help it move somewhere you *can* think, then," he said, and crawled up the bed, grinning.

"Uh, sleep? Jim? Remember that? I - " Blair's thought was swallowed in a wave of renewed sexual energy. "Oh, hell - "

The End

MonaR.

Keeper of Jim's Anal Tendencies, and Blair's Doctor Impersonation. :)