Catching the edge of the fitted sheet as Jim tossed it to him from the other side of the bed, Blair held tight while Jim shook out the folds, then let the fabric drift down to the mattress. Without thinking, he matched his movements to Jim's as he made sure the sheet was lying even, smoothing out any wrinkles with precise tugs and twitches before tucking it in. On one level of his mind, he wondered why sharing this chore felt as intimate as sharing the bed itself did, and how they had so effortlessly evolved the flowing choreography to do it.
For the most part, though, Blair was absorbed by Jim's casual response that he didn't like satin sheets when Blair had jokingly suggested they switch to them. "With your sense of touch, you really prefer ordinary ones?"
Jim made a sound of agreement, then unexpectedly relented from his usual defensive silence about peculiarities with his abilities. "I'm the same with high thread count sheets. They're *too* smooth, if that makes any sense. It might have something to do with familiarity, since I like the same brand sheets Sally used on my bed as a kid."
"You asked her?" Blair said, manfully hiding the laughter caused by the mental image of that particular conversation.
Shooting him a sharp glance, Jim obviously suspected Blair's amusement, but waved off the possibility of the topic before picking up the top sheet. With a practiced snap of his wrists, he sent one end to Blair, and they repeated the dance they had used with the bottom one. "The army isn't exactly noted for its quality bedding, either. I'm used to the rougher material; anything else keeps pulling at my attention, making it hard to sleep."
"Man, that has to be one of the reasons you manage so well on stakeouts where you have to sleep in a different bed," Blair mused, more to himself than to Jim. The ramifications to the sort of operant conditioning needed to be able to adapt to the daily annoyances Jim's abilities threw at him were fairly far-reaching, and he couldn't believe he hadn't paid attention to the possibility long before now. It explained so damn much.
Jim said something to him that Blair missed because his brain had raced so far away. Before he could drag himself back and mentally replay the comment, Jim chuckled and reached over to rap him on the forehead with his knuckles. "You don't need to do that anymore, remember?"
"Do what?" Blair asked in surprise.
"Catalogue everything new you find out about the senses so you can fit it into your research." There was, as always when Jim mentioned, even obliquely, Blair's dissertation, an underlying thread of sorrow and regret in his voice, though his tone and body language were casual enough.
Ignoring it because Time was the only way Jim was ever going to believe that Blair had made his peace with that disaster, Blair shot back, "Yes, I do. Everything I learn is another tool I can use to help if something goes wrong, another weapon to protect you from the constant barrage of problems your gifts cause you."
For some reason, that stopped Jim dead in his tracks, comforter hanging forgotten from his hands. He slowly smiled - the shy, delighted, 'little boy getting a wonderful surprise' smile that had always had the power to tear at Blair's heart. Though mystified at such a powerful reaction to what he saw as a self-evident necessity of his life, Blair couldn't help but smile back.
Expression changing to one of aching wonder, Jim dropped the comforter and reached for Blair, long fingers cradling his head carefully, as if it were rare and fragile. He urged Blair toward him, kneeling on the foot of the bed to minimize the distance between them. Blair went willingly, raising his hands to clutch at the front of Jim's t-shirt with the intent of giving him a little shake to accompany a request to be told what was going on in his head.
Before he could, Jim leaned in and kissed him, driving away everything but the pure sensual pleasure of Jim's mouth on his. There was no passion, no possession; nothing but Jim kissing him just to be kissing him, as they had so often in the early days of their slow journey from partners to lovers. Blair had almost forgotten how *good* those near innocent explorations of taste and tongue were, and he went limp in Jim's arms, savoring the tender caress.
A long, languid eternity later, Jim pulled away to catch his breath and whisper, "Love you, Blair."
Dazed, Blair said, "Every time you kiss me like that, I feel the truth of it, all the way to the heart of me. Even the first time, or maybe, especially the first time. I knew we would work because of the love I've always felt in your kiss."
Lips hovering a breath away, Jim admitted, "It still comes as a shock to me. Not what I feel, or how much, but that it's the same for you, all the way."
He took Blair's mouth again, without giving him a chance to answer in kind, not that Blair could. Words just didn't fit, and he tried his best to pour all that he could into the feather-soft glide of flesh over flesh. Gradually, so gradually Blair wasn't aware of it at first, urgency crept into their kiss and Jim's hold on him.
Jim gently laid Blair down in the center of the freshly made bed, his grace and power making Blair feel almost as if he floated there. Arms under Blair's shoulders and keeping most of his weight on his forearms, Jim covered him, never once releasing his lips. With the sunshine dazzling on his eyelids and his lover's solid heat melting into him, Blair relaxed, a wonderful lassitude taking possession of his body. Only one part of him wasn't completely limp, and it was contentedly digging into the hard plane of Jim's abdomen, in no hurry for more than that.
Equally erect, Jim didn't seem to be in a hurry, either, despite how deep and hungry his kisses had grown. It wasn't until a small, needy moan broke free of Blair that Jim eased away, only to trail a line of loving nips along Blair's jaw until he reached his ear. Teasing it with almost-there licks, he rolled them slightly to one side, confusing Blair until he heard the nightstand drawer open. Anticipating the cool lube, he was nicely surprised when it slicked on warmly as Jim lifted away barely enough to coat Blair's cock and his own. When he was done, he nibbled his way to the curve of Blair's shoulder, slipping his erection between Blair's thighs.
Murmuring his appreciation both of the return of Jim's weight on him and the attention Jim was paying to the hollow of his collarbone, Blair rocked dreamily, meeting Jim's leisurely thrusts. The pleasure rippling through him was as golden as the sunshine pouring over them, turning Jim's skin to a glory of smooth and supple over power and control. Blair stroked everywhere he could reach, eventually winding his legs around Jim's waist to give himself more access. Putting his knees under him and taking Blair with him by cupping his bottom in his palms, Jim groaned Blair's name, dipping his fingertips into the crease there.
New need sparked at the touch; sensing it, Jim probed carefully at the delicate folds of Blair's center. When they began using this form of love-play, they had quickly discovered that Blair found an almost tickly caress over his opening intensely arousing. It generated a different kind of heat for Blair than the mellow one he'd been enjoying, one that was almost painful, yet delicious for all that, and he tilted his hips to encourage Jim to do more.
The very tip of one of Jim's fingers penetrated Blair, and he happily welcomed it with a squeeze of internal muscles. Jim shifted position, and his cock dug into the tender flesh behind Blair's balls, skimming from the sack to his pucker. The blunt tip of it pressed in, stopping at the very brink of entering him. It felt good - better even than Jim's fingers - and without thinking, Blair pushed down with his hips. Jim backed away from the contact, but Blair mumbled a protest and pulled with both hands on Jim's ass, meeting his return with a more decisive thrust that brought the crown solidly into him. It stretched and tugged wonderfully, with only a trace of discomfort that was nowhere near enough to discourage him from easing up, then back down again.
With a soft murmur of delight, Jim matched him with retreats and advances of his own, and they set up a smooth, even rhythm that soon had Jim buried to the hilt in Blair with each plunge. Hardly aware of anything but the beloved man covering him, the brilliant sunshine, and the climax building steadily inside of him, Blair lived in the moment, wanting nothing more than what he had. From the small sounds escaping Jim, Blair knew that his lover was getting close, though, and he joyed at the idea of Jim spilling deep inside him. In the wake of that realization, came the very belated thought, "He's fucking me. He's all the way in, it didn't hurt a bit, and he's fucking me, and I like it, no, I love it, it's the best damn thing that's happened to me in my life!"
For a split second Blair was jarred out of the erotic haze they had wrapped around each other, but only as long as it took for Jim to smooth a hand over his back and buttocks, whispering his name reverently. Love pierced him, sharp and breathtaking, and with a suddenness belied by the unhurried tempo of their lovemaking, he came. A white-out of ecstasy swamped him, and for a while he knew nothing but bliss and hard jets of relief shaking him from head to toe.
The aftermath was as good as the main event, Blair mused contentedly, a small forever later, coming back to himself as Jim silently shuddered through his own finish. Despite the complaints from his legs about his position and how long he'd been in it, the last thing he wanted to do was lose the full-body hug he was in. It satisfied something deep inside him to have Jim helpless in his arms, panting out broken endearments. Even the mass of him, sweaty and heavy, pinning him to the bed, fulfilled a need as intense as the sexual one had been.
When Jim finally stirred, probably to give Blair more breathing room, Blair twisted and put him on his back, rolling with him so that he wound up sitting astride him, knees firmly clamped to Jim's sides. "I'm not ready to give this up yet."
"Yeah?" Jim sounded so deliciously sated and happy that Blair couldn't help feeling smug.
Sitting up straight - not incidentally driving Jim's barely softened cock farther into him - Blair looked down at him and grinned broadly. His smugness took on an entirely new dimension at the sight of Jim sprawled out underneath him, arms over his head, eyelids at half-mast. A fresh cut of desire twisted through Blair's middle, and he reflexively tightened around the maleness inside him.
The pleasure from it flashed through Jim's expression, his mouth opening on a barely voiced 'oh' of surprise. "Definitely not done yet," Blair muttered as much to himself as to Jim.
Flexing his own muscles, Jim made his hard-on jump, doing interesting things to Blair's passage. "Wow." Blair returned the intimate embrace, forcing a groan from Jim.
"God, I think you could get me off just by doing that," Jim said, stretching sensuously before skimming his hands down his torso and onto Blair's thighs. "Do it again?"
Blair obliged him, watching hungrily as Jim writhed again under that special caress. "And I think seeing you react like that might make *me* come," he said, reaching for himself.
Playfully batting Blair's hand away, Jim stroked Blair's cock for him. "Let me. Please."
Spine snapping taut, Blair gasped, and on impulse, tweaked his nipples to add to his renewed need. "Oh, God!"
"Sensitive, are they?" Jim asked, donning a mask of curiosity that didn't match his intent stare at what Blair's fingers were doing.
"Ve... uhn!... very." Blair couldn't stop himself from pushing into Jim's grip, but he immediately dropped back down on Jim's cock. "I... I, oh! Always wished... oh... had three hands when, when I beat off."
"Do you like having them sucked?"
Blair began to ride Jim in earnest, using Jim's hand in time to the rapidly increasing rise and fall of his ass. "Love it. Uh, oh, oh - haven't *said* - maybe too much of a reminder of women?"
"Nope." Jim said with a grunt. "Love you. Love your scent, horny and happy. Love the sparkle you get when you want me. Gets to me more than any woman ever has or ever will."
"God!" Lust almost had Blair, fueled by Jim's words. "You've got this way of slamming right into my heart."
"Slam sounds good," Jim huffed out, digging in with his heels and doing exactly that. "Damn! Blair! I... Blair!"
"Like that," Blair moaned. "Just like that... aaaa... so..." Speech became impossible. All Blair could do was watch Jim watching him as he took Jim fast and hard. It was as much a part of their love-making as the rod inside him, adding to his excitement in an unexpected way, quickly driving him toward orgasm despite their earlier loving. He grasped for control, not wanting to come yet. That round had seemingly lasted forever; he wanted this one to feel like it did, too.
Nerves and muscles couldn't sustain their pace forever, though, and with a hoarse cry Jim lunged up, his entire body quaking with the spasms of his seed pouring into Blair. It was unbearably beautiful to see him surrender to his pleasure, and Blair couldn't hold off any longer. Leaning forward onto him to touch as much as possible at once, Blair shot, shouting his relief and ecstasy. His strength ebbed as the last shocks of his release battered at him, and he collapsed bonelessly on top of Jim.
"Love you," Blair whispered breathlessly, head burrowing into the curve of Jim's shoulder. "Love you."
Fingertips slowly creeping into the curls at the base of Blair's neck, Jim murmured, "Always."
Exhaustion was taking Blair, aided by Jim's petting, and he tried to bestir himself, not ready to give up the miracle of their first time together in this special way. "Mmmmmm. Stop or you'll put me to sleep."
Grabbing the edge of a sheet to pull over them, Jim sighed contentedly. "Go ahead. Recharge your batteries and then we'll have another go. That is, if you're not too sore?"
The last question pulled a snort of amusement from Blair, and he contracted around the softening cock. "Not a bit, you insatiable beast, you." He yawned, and snuggled down. "Thank god you are." Jim's soft chuckle followed him into sleep, and Blair wrapped it around him as the reminder of love it was.
When the more mundane demands of the body dragged Blair out of his nap sometime later, he spent several long, stubborn minutes convincing himself not to move. But he was chilled on the side that wasn't being warmed by Jim's heat, and his bladder was painfully complaining, so he reluctantly opened his eyes to the overcast gray that had taken over the loft while he'd slept. It was depressing, and not at all how he wanted the best afternoon of his life to end. The fact that he had no idea how it *should* have ended didn't help his suddenly dour mood, and he edged away from Jim to go downstairs.
It was easier said than done. The moment he was standing by the bed, he wanted to crawl right back into it and wake Jim with more kisses and arousing caresses until they were both ready to make love again. Jim had never looked more gorgeous or desirable than he did right now, mussed and messy from earlier, expression still blissful, even in slumber. It didn't help that Blair knew Jim would be as eager for more as he was. He had a feeling that they were going to have serious trouble keeping their hands off each other, even at the station, until this change in their physical relationship lost its novelty.
If, in fact, it did. Grinning, Blair finally gave into necessity and headed for the bathroom, mentally replaying the best parts, only to admit with a rueful chuckle that all of it could be considered 'the best part.' He couldn't think of a single thing that they could have done differently to make it better, and every moment was damned near perfect. Which was a little weird, now that he considered it; weren't first times supposed to be painful and awkward?
Pushing the thought aside with more force than it should have needed, Blair finished, started to wash his hands, then hesitated. A shower would be good idea right about now. The smell of male musk and stale sex was strong enough for his nose to wrinkle in distaste; it had to be a major stench for Jim. And he was a shivering a bit in the chilly bathroom; the hot water would feel good.
Uncharacteristically indecisive, he looked up at the ceiling, remembering how alluring Jim had looked. Peaceful, too, and sleeping so deeply that the noise Blair had made hadn't disturbed him at all. Maybe the shower was the way to go right now, just so he could rest.
Feeling much better when he was done, Blair toweled himself off, and reviewed the plans he and Jim had made for the day. Their Saturday schedule, such as it was, was shot, but there hadn't really been anything on it but chores they wanted to get out of the way so they could have Sunday free and clear. Most could wait, though, and besides, he had semi-promised some friends that he would join them for a 'movie and pizza' kind of thing. He found himself staring at the ceiling again, the vague idea that it would be more fun to stay home with Jim for than putting in an appearance, but he almost instantly persuaded himself that going out was the right thing to do. The friends from Rainier who had stuck with him were important; blowing them off for a quiet evening at home wasn't fair to them.
Not allowing himself to second-guess his decision, he hurriedly dressed, using some of the clothes that he kept in his old room. Just to let Jim sleep as long as he wanted to. No reason to bother him by rummaging around while he got ready to go out. Or to tell him where he was going; Jim knew about the invite. A note to remind him was really all that was needed.
Moving faster than was strictly necessary for a friends' night out, Blair got himself out the door, all but running for the Volvo. Once he met up with the others at the art theater they'd chosen, he threw himself into the evening, making sure everyone around him had fun and having more than a little himself. After dinner there was a general movement to go to a dance club, and in the mood to party a little, Blair called home, refusing to acknowledge that he was relieved when the machine picked up. He left a quick message, reassuring Jim that he was just having too good a time to end the evening right away.
It wasn't until the small hours of the night that he realized that he had had too much to drink to drive home safely. Dithering - it wasn't as if Jim wouldn't come get him or that he couldn't get one of his friends to drop him off - he let himself be swept with the group to someone's home for an early home-made breakfast and more partying. In the end, he wound up sleeping uncomfortably curled up in a recliner at the same house until his host woke himself and took him back to where Blair had left his car.
It was close to eleven o'clock in the morning before Blair finally got back to the loft, and he let himself in, already wearing a sheepish expression and with no idea how he was going to make it up to Jim for being out all night. With a pang of wildly mixed emotions that he didn't want to analyze, Blair realized that the place was empty. His cell phone was on the counter, holding down a note, and biting his lip in shame for not even realizing that he hadn't had it with him, Blair retrieved it and the note.
"Sandburg. Emergency at the station. Come in as soon as you're fit for duty," Blair read aloud. "Sandburg, not Chief or Blair. Guess I'm in trouble, big time. No signature, let alone a 'missed you' or 'love you.' Seriously, seriously in the dog house, not that I don't deserve to be."
Folding and re-folding the note several times, Blair debated with himself briefly. Technically, he could claim that he could still be under the influence of alcohol and shouldn't go in. Not to mention he hadn't had enough sleep, and was probably too tired to be really useful. Whatever the emergency was, his input wasn't likely to make a huge difference. Except to Jim, of course, and that reminder kicked Blair's conscience into action, and he swung into getting ready for work.
By the time he reached the parking garage at the PD, Blair had mapped out a dozen lines of apology and honeyed promises he could use to smooth things out between him and Jim, deliberately ignoring the fact that they were lines he had used on various girl friends in the past. After all, they were all true. The fact that he had sincerely believed that it would never be necessary to use them with Jim, his One, his forever, was something he refused to acknowledge. While he was in the elevator, he worked himself up to be as charming as possible, then bounced through the door to the bullpen intent on giving the impression that he was up, he was ready, he was *there.*
His poise crashed two steps into the room. Half the people there were studiously avoiding his gaze; the other half were slanting him looks that were part worried and part accusing. When he saw the Technicolor bruise spreading over the left side of Jim's face, he understood why.
Bizarrely unsure how he *should* react, Blair went for the traditional male ribbing attitude, despite wanting to rush over and examine him from head-to-toe to see if he were injured anywhere else. "Hey, you need ducking lessons again, partner?"
"Something like that," Jim said lightly.
To Blair's relief, he smiled in welcome, the sweet smile that had always seemed to be for Blair alone. It made Blair's heart beat a wild tattoo, reminding him of how they had spent yesterday afternoon. And that he wanted a repeat of it as soon as possible; right now would be good, as far as he was concerned.
The corners of Jim's smile went wicked, but that was the only clue that he knew what state Blair was in. He waved at the door to indicate that Blair should precede him and said mildly, "You're just in time; Simon's having a briefing to put everybody on the same page with this thing."
Before Blair could ask, 'what thing?' H. sidled up to Jim, papers in hand, obviously worried about something. While Jim was distracted, Megan took the opportunity to slip next to Blair and walk with him. "It's my fault, Sandy. He did that blank thing he does when he's overworking the senses, and when I nudged him to bring him out of it, he lost his balance and went down a concrete staircase."
Wincing, Blair said, "Please tell me that it didn't cause a problem at a crime scene or something."
Megan had the grace to look guilty. "Only Banks saw, and he got all hissy about it."
"Great," Blair muttered to himself. "Bet that causes another step back with him."
By that time they were in the office, and Banks said coldly, "Care to share your usual insightful comments, now that you've joined us, Sandburg?"
"I'm waiting to be updated, sir," Blair said with formal politeness, regretting the need to revert back to that from the casual give and take that had slowly been reasserting itself between them and Simon in recent months.
"If you had been on the job, like you were supposed to be," Simon snapped, "You wouldn't need to be told what's going down."
For the life of him, Blair didn't know why that scathing, sarcastic tone was the last blow to his restraint with the man, but he said sharply, "I was not on call this weekend. Sir. If you have a problem with me having a personal life, perhaps you would care to voice your complaint with my union rep present."
Blair enjoyed a moment's satisfaction at seeing Simon's jaw drop, but it was very short lived. Pulling himself together in a blink, Simon said flatly, emotionlessly, "In that case, I'll not keep you from it. We'll see you at your regular shift start time, Monday morning."
Shocked, Blair started to argue the point, but Jim pressed into him - carefully, unnoticeably to anyone else - in warning. With more insolence than he had used with anyone in a long, long time, Blair said, "Thank you. I believe I will." He sauntered out, pretending not to see the blank or grim expressions on everyone present.
His fake composure lasted until he was back in his car, then for several long moments he sat shaking, torn between anger and confusion. Fleetingly wishing he'd at least learned what trouble had pulled all of Major Crimes in for weekend duty, Blair finally aimed himself for home. Once there, he listlessly made a late lunch and nibbled at it while he considered what to do with himself. Going out again didn't sound good. If he napped, he'd never be able to sleep that night. He couldn't concentrate enough to read. And after yesterday, a little self gratification to take the edge off his nerves struck him as being pathetic and lonely. In the end, he took a page out of Jim's book and went after the chores that hadn't been tended to already.
From the number of them, Jim must have gotten the call from the department not too long after Blair left; that or he'd slept straight through to when the phone rang for it. The mundane tasks filled the hours until he felt it was late enough to be able to legitimately say it was close to his bedtime. Despite that, he didn't climb the stairs, but settled down on the couch to doze and wait for Jim to come home.
He woke once, thoughts thick and dim, long enough to hear the phone stop ringing and the machine pick up: Jim, letting him know that he had pulled a third shift stake out. Grumbling to himself about being the victim of bad timing, Blair dropped like a rock back into sleep and slept so soundly the upstairs alarm clock almost didn't wake him. As it was, he had to rush to get to work on time, and he cut it so close that Jim was already standing to put on his coatt as Blair got to the bullpen.
Once he saw how carefully Jim moved, it took everything Blair had not to make an excuse to blow off work again so he could take him home and get a good look at the damage Jim's so-called 'bump' had been. Then he wanted to softly kiss every square inch that showed even a hint of hurt, and after that, he wanted to kiss parts that weren't hurt at all, and after that....
Blair caught himself before he could mentally stray farther, using the image of Simon's reaction to a proclamation of taking Jim home for wild, animal sex as a figurative cold shower for himself. Since Jim would not appreciate getting them more in trouble, Blair summoned a warm smile, and carefully kept the desk between them so he wouldn't sweep his partner away and to bed.
"You got time for your version of what's going on?" Blair said cheerily.
The smile Jim gave him was less warm than it had been yesterday, but it was, at least, still there. "Waste of time for an entire department, courtesy of his honor, the mayor."
"Come on, man. The *entire* department? Not even the Mayor has that much clout," Blair said to give him an excuse to vent and not incidentally learn more very quickly.
Face clouding over, Jim said flatly, "You asked. I answered. If the case doesn't break - or that idiot isn't convinced that the information from his 'important sources' is pure bull - I've got another twelve hour stakeout tonight. Do me a favor; do the job and discredit this so-called case before everybody from the mayor down to the meter maids are brought down by the scandal."
He stalked off, leaving Blair staring after him and wondering if he should be flattered that Jim expected him to be able to accomplish that much by himself. Underneath that was a frisson of fear. Jim's anger hadn't been sharp and cold as it should have been for being dicked around by the brass. It was hot and tight, meaning that it hid pain, pain that Jim wanted to deny.
Stomach twisting, Blair wanted to believe that he couldn't be the cause. Though he hadn't been beside his partner for longer than they were accustomed to being apart, it wasn't his fault. Or not all his fault; who knew Simon would kick him out for refusing to be a doormat? Or that Jim would be put on a night shift without him?
There had to be more, Blair told himself firmly. Catching sight of Conner carrying a cup of coffee from the break room to her desk, eyes on the papers in her hand, he knew exactly where to find out what had been going on. Keeping his expression pleasant and friendly with an effort, he took a path to intercept her, surprised at the flash of panic when she looked up to find him only a few feet away. From the change in body language, he expected her to bolt, and said sternly, "Don't even think about it, Conner."
"Sandy...."
"No bullshit, either. I want details, and I want them now."
Megan looked uneasily at Banks' closed door, and Blair took the papers from her hand, tilting his head down as if reading. "Just a quick consult between detectives, as far as anybody else is concerned," he assured her quietly. "Start with the case the Mayor is driving everyone crazy with to bolster that."
"Chinese, smuggling, dirty nukes, no proof, but he's utterly convinced, going so far as to persuade a buddy who's a judge to give us a search warrant for several locations." Still uneasy, Megan pulled him to her desk with a hand circumspectly tucked into his elbow. Pointing at random spots on the paper to continue the ruse of that being the reason they were talking, she added, "He's a politician, and it boggles me who could be close enough to him to make him believe this. He's taking the risk of ruining his career, not that I care. Right now we're keeping a lid on his involvement; that won't last if he doesn't back off soon."
"Think of what it could do to a very lackluster career if it turns out legit," Blair pointed out. "But you're right. It has to be someone seriously close to him, like his manager or one of his major financial backers."
"Which doesn't make sense if they want him to stay in politics," Conner said.
"Someone got to one of them?" Blair brushed the question away. There were more important ones he had to get answers to before their cover ran thin. "When and how did Jim zone?"
"We were getting ready to enter the building, crouched down in a corner at the top of a flight of stairs - a school turned into a series of dance studios and art galleries - and were waiting for Banks to give the go ahead." Conner frowned, obviously seeing it all in her head again. "I think Banks must have been waiting for some kind of signal from Ellison, cause he was with us, focused on him as Ellison checked out things his way. I'm sorry, Blair. I had my mind on getting through the door, not on what Ellison was doing. I have no idea how long he'd been gone, and because Banks got that 'I'm going to use you for a chew-toy' look on his face, I wasn't as patient with Jim as I should have been."
"He didn't come out of it right away?" Blair asked calmly against the dread threading through him.
"I tried the little pat you usually do, along with saying his name - no joy. With Banks starting to growl, I gave him a push without thinking about how carefully balanced he had to be. He toppled like I'd tackled him." Megan sat, giving up the pretense of doing anything but telling Blair what he had to know. "I swear I saw him come out of it mid-fall, which probably saved him from being hurt worse. Didn't stop him from popping right back up the stairs, growling that the building was deserted, had been for months, and he could prove it."
Intrigued despite himself, Blair perched on the edge of her desk and asked, "Did he?"
"Bumped open a door that wasn't even locked and pointed out the dust on the floor. Anybody been in there any time recently, no way to miss their tracks. Wasn't the first bit of evidence we've found that the info being fed to the mayor is bogus, but it's the one that's hardest to argue with."
"He blamed that tasty bit of deduction on living with the Chopec, I bet." Blair said distractedly. "Any more zones since then?"
Guilt tightened Megan's mouth, and she said shortly, "I haven't been riding with him. Banks has."
"Oh, damn," Blair said tiredly. "No wonder Jim's way pissed."
"I wouldn't be surprised if neither one of them has said a word to the other the entire time," Megan said, with a hint of humor flickering underneath her words.
"If Jim's mood is any indication of Simon's," Blair said, letting a smile surface, "I'd say monolithic tooth grinding and cigar chewing is much more likely." A faint bellow made him snap to his feet, and he jerked his attention back to the case and the information actually on the top sheet of Megan's stack. "I take it you're trying to find the owners of the building, following the paper trail of the company that owns the consortium that was bought out by the megacorp."
"For all the good it's doing me," Megan said, shaking the whole pile in aggravation.
"Want me to give it a shot? I've had some experience in making my way through the bureaucratic labyrinth, and I don't have anything on my desk yet, except cold cases and the usual reports." Blair took the papers from her, and reading through them, willingly lost himself in the intricacies of official files and records.
The rest of the day went much the same way. Simon left not long after Jim did pointedly ignoring Blair and not bothering to update his assignments. It left Blair free to help wherever and whoever he could, and by the end of an extremely long, totally exhausting day, he had an overview of the Mayor's case that had him biting at his lower lip. With uncharacteristic caution, he presented his findings to the others, not surprised that they were way past skeptical.
To escape the suddenly strained atmosphere in the bullpen created by his emerging theory, Blair went home, though he had intended to stay until Jim came in for the night. He tried to time it so that he could at least have a meal with him before he had to go to work, but when he reached the loft, Jim had already gone. No note, no explanation why he left early, and Blair wondered with an odd drop to his stomach why relief would be his first reaction to his lover's absence.
Brushing it off as not wanting to have to discuss his speculation on the Mayor's behavior, Blair focused on immediate needs. He quickly ate some leftover noodles from the carton while standing in front of the fridge and wandered off to the bathroom, leaving a trail of clothes in his wake. Getting ready for bed nearly finished the job of putting him to sleep, and he went upstairs, working mostly on autopilot.
He was in the middle of taking off his glasses as a prelude to collapsing when he realized that the bed was unmade. In fact, it looked as if it hadn't been made since the last time he had been in it. The comforter was in the same place Jim had dropped it, and the sheets were rumpled in the distinctive way only rowdy sex could create. Blair put his glasses back on firmly to stare, struggling to interpret what he was seeing.
His first thought, tinged with an irrational anger, was Where has Jim been sleeping? The answer came from the part of him that knew Jim Ellison inside and out. Who says he's been sleeping?
Blair glanced down into the living room, conjuring the image of Jim standing in his usual spot by the balcony doors, gazing into distances Blair couldn't imagine, despite having tried to measure them. The next logical question was 'why?' Jim only did that sort of thing when he was deeply troubled. Surely having Simon catch him in a bad zone, then forcibly partnering himself with Jim, wouldn't be enough for Jim brood an entire day away after working double shifts.
Needing the answer to that, Blair replayed the events of the last two days, putting himself in his partner's shoes with practiced ease.
And sank to his knees, astonished at how thoroughly he had succeeded in refusing to see the truth of his own actions and how they had affected Jim. "I haven't touched him since we made love," he whispered, needing to say the words aloud, to hear the ugly truth, if only from his own lips, as punishment and penance. "I've stayed as far away from him as I could and still be able to lie to myself that I wasn't doing exactly that. Damn it, I went so far as to break our truce with Simon, knowing perfectly well he'd have to no choice but to kick me out, especially when I threatened him with a rep."
Fingers against his mouth, Blair rocked back and forth. "I don't get it. It was wonderful. No, better than wonderful. It was the sort of love-making that most people spend an entire life longing for: sensual, spontaneous, romantic, fulfilling emotionally, spiritually, let alone physically."
Erotic images from that afternoon filled his head, and his body responded, dick lengthening eagerly. Blair had to squash the urge to reach down and adjust himself, not wanting to get sidetracked by his memories, and realized that he already was. Determinedly he pushed away thoughts of sex and set his mind on puzzling out why he'd been putting so much distance between himself and his lover.
It wouldn't stay on track. Before he could even begin to center himself, small physical annoyances began shrilling at him, breaking his concentration. The floor was cold and hard, his ankle was itching, his jeans were too tight over his thighs, his eyes were burning from staring. He tried ignoring all of it, considering the irritations minor in comparison to his emotional turmoil, but, for some reason, that same emotional confusion kept him from dismissing the complaints.
Finally, exasperated with himself, Blair gave up trying to pin down the squirming mass of his own thoughts and stood. Brushing at the knees of his pants, he dimly wondered what he should do next, and on impulse started stripping the bed. In very short order, he had clean sheets on it, the dirty ones in the hamper, and, working on the same impetus, took a long, hot shower, washing himself and his hair thoroughly. By the time he had the bedroom and himself scrubbed and tidied to some internal standard that he couldn't comprehend, he was beyond exhausted. He dropped into bed and was asleep almost before he was curled under the comforter.
The scent of cooking breakfast called him out of a deep sleep, and without really thinking about it, he answered that summons, stumbling down the stairs, to the bath, then to the table, clumsily wrapping his robe around himself as he sat. Coffee appeared, and he got himself on the outside of most of it and the eggs, whole grain toast, and turkey bacon before his brain kicked into gear. Still chewing, he waved at the nearly empty dishes, eyebrows up, and was relieved and delighted when Jim grinned, reading the question easily.
Speaking between his own bites, fork occasionally jabbed for emphasis, Jim said, "I'm home early because Joel took your advice and had a *very* diplomatically worded conversation with the mayor's political manager. Apparently there was enough panic on the man's expression before he shut down to convince Joel that you might be right about His Honor having a breakdown of some kind. It took some talking, but Joel persuaded Banks that a meeting with the manager, the mayor, and both Captains in Major Crimes would be in order before any further 'leads' could be pursued. For reasons known only to Mayor Norris, I have to be present as well."
"Did Simon let you go early or put you back on days?" Blair asked.
"Both. The meet's early this morning, and it didn't make sense for me to come home, sleep for a couple of hours, get up, go all the way downtown, come all the way back, especially if you're right."
"Man, I sincerely hope I'm not." Food done, Blair stood and began clearing the dishes. "But from what I've learned of his movements over the past few weeks, and his interests over the years, I had to wonder at when and how he would find a source who could get past his people and share his private concerns on Chinese terrorists."
Draining the last of his juice, Jim nodded. "It doesn't hurt your theory that not a single piece of information he's given us has been credible, so far. It's all patchwork; no consistent threads." He scrubbed at his eyes with two fingers and added, "I'm going to shower up, get some of the cobwebs out, but I'll be done in time to go in with you, if you want."
"Sounds like a plan," Blair said absently, already thinking ahead on how to approach the mayor.
Jim paused, so briefly that Blair wasn't sure it happened, then went down the hall to the bath. He watched him go, biting his lip, trying to pinpoint what Jim might have been waiting for. "A thank-you kiss, maybe?" he asked himself suddenly and nearly dropped the plate in his hand. "I'm doing it again; staying just out of reach but acting as if everything is okay."
Slowly, carefully, he put the dish down, took a deep breath to fortify himself, and followed in Jim's steps, intending to at least make physical contact with him, no matter how fleeting. Maybe his own reaction to it would give him some clue what was *wrong* with him. He only got as far as the bathroom door before a strange noise froze him in his tracks.
After a moment he identified the part that sounded like hissing as fabric being torn. Blair never knew how long it took for him to interpret the rest as a man in mortal pain, trying to muffle howls of agony through clenched teeth and locked chest. As far as he was concerned, though, even a millisecond had been too long. He burst through the door, his only intention to do whatever it took to comfort and heal Jim. Recoiling even as Blair reached for him, Jim stumbled, tangled in the coils of shredded sheets from the hamper, and fell hard against the wall. As he slid to the floor, he made a pushing motion to tell Blair to stay back, obviously unable to force words through the tight line of his lips.
Ignoring the request, not needing to ask what was wrong, Blair followed him down and climbed into his lap, arms around his neck and hanging on for all he was worth. He didn't try to talk. He didn't have any explanations for his behavior, couldn't make any promises, and empty reassurances would only hurt them both more.
So he tucked himself into a half-naked body that was seemingly made of solid stone, trying to fit into Jim's every fold and bend, nuzzling where he could, mindful of the hideous bruises marring his lover's perfect skin. For the longest time, he might have been hugging a statue, but, with terrifying abruptness, Jim shuddered hard and relaxed, enfolding Blair into his arms and blindly scattering kisses over the top of Blair's head.
"I won't ever touch you like that again," Jim whispered. "I swear to God, Blair, never again. We can go all the way back the beginning if it takes that for you to trust me again. Your own bed, sweet kisses when you want them, and only when you want them. We don't take another step forward until you tell me, loud and clear, you're ready for it. And if you never are, it won't be a problem. I'll deal; we'll deal."
Shocked, Blair thought, He thinks it was rape. From his point of view, it's probably the only rational explanation for why I've been avoiding him, and love is the reason why I haven't moved out or pressed charges. Positive for some reason that Jim wasn't ready to listen to him yet, Blair found Jim's mouth and claimed it, making the kiss deep and nasty, speaking clearly of lust and love. He lost himself in it, soon forgetting why he started it in the first place.
Finally, Jim gently put him away, expression confused and questioning.
Meeting Jim's eyes and letting his own speak the truth for him, Blair said, "I loved it. Loved it so much that every time I see you, I want to tackle you to the ground and have you do me right then, right there. You have to be able to sense that, man."
"Couples that have just gotten together leak hormones constantly, Chief," Jim said, shaking his head. "Even in the middle of a serious fight. It doesn't mean anything except that their bodies recognize each other. And you smelled more scared than horny."
"Scared?" Blair literally felt his mind go skittering away from that word, and all its implications. Firmly telling himself that he wasn't avoiding the problem, just dealing with the most immediate one, he let it go, and said slowly, "I can't tell you nothing is wrong. Just that it's not gay panic or an identity crisis or anything clichéd like that." He considered a second and added honestly, "Whatever it is, it's so far below my radar that I can't get my head around it before it fades into the background clutter."
"Damn, Blair," Jim said sympathetically.
That was Blair's undoing. He began to shake, panting harshly, as if he'd survived a crisis and now had the luxury to indulge in hysterics if he wanted. Rocking him slightly, Jim whispered his name and their love against his curls until Blair calmed, body gradually becoming still. With a show of reluctance, he drew away.
"We need to get to work. I need to get to work, okay?"
Accepting his honesty for the gift it was, Jim stood, offering Blair a hand that he took as a promise to him that they *would* deal, and deal with it together. "Don't want to miss Simon dancing around the fact that it's very possible His Honor is certifiable?"
"Personally, I always thought you needed to be to go into politics in this day and age," Blair quipped. It earned him the faintest of smiles from Jim, and he was immeasurably grateful for the return of the banter that had bound them together almost from the first.
Keeping to the topic, they swiftly cleaned up the destroyed sheets, treating them only as garbage and not as evidence of how much wrong was still between them. In short order, and never farther than a few feet away from each other, they finished getting ready for the day and left. Once at the station, though, Blair found it almost impossible to find his footing with his partner, possibly for the first time since he'd begun working there with him. He couldn't find a tone of voice that wasn't too personal or too distant, and it was the same for body space. One minute he would be almost in Jim's lap, catch himself at it, and, the next put a desk between them at the very least, if not leave the room entirely on some pretext or another.
Jim endured it like he would a bad storm: face set, comments brief, flat and terse on the rare occasions he spoke. That, of course, only made Blair feel more guilty and nervous, to the point where his psyche, not to mention his skin, was twitching constantly. It made for a very bad day, with the only promising note being the mayor's hasty about face on having a confidential source for a possible terrorist attack. The entire bullpen sighed in relief at that news, and no one was surprised when his manager announced a vacation for him for health purposes. Regardless, by the last hour of the their shift, Jim was pinching at the bridge of his nose, working to control a headache, accompanied with brief sensory jags that he tried hard to conceal from Blair.
Just as Blair thought he might explode - whether into rage or passion, he had no clue - Jim propped his head in his palm and sighed. "Sandburg, we're going to have to do some damage control here."
Blinking because that was the last thing he expected Jim to say, Blair said, "Huh?"
"We work with detectives," Jim said so mildly that it was a good substitute for sarcasm. "The best in Cascade, hopefully, since this is Major Crimes. They've noticed that we're both a little off kilter, and they're coming up with their own explanations, none of which I want reaching Simon's ears. Not with things the way they are."
Despite an overwhelming urge to bang his head into the desk for the pain relief, Blair matched Jim's falsely casual attitude. "Such as?"
"Right now it's evenly divided between believing that Banks is pressuring you to take that slot Carter in Homicide offered, and you wanting to take it to get away from him. It's unanimous that I'm probably being a total shit about it all."
"That last is so not fair," Blair said indignantly, but couldn't help grinning. "Though based on prior evidence, not unreasonable."
Jim grinned back at him, and for a split second they were where they should be, giving Blair his first hint of hope since the night before. "Which is why we're supposed to base cases on the facts, Sherlock. In the meantime, you might want to have a friendly chat with Rhonda, our unofficial damage control expert. Banks has left for that late meeting with the D.A. on the Priors case, and she's in the break room. He never rescinded that order about us handing our reports to her in his absence, and we've got a stack done."
Seeing his reasoning, Blair gathered the files together. "Which makes for a perfect excuse to talk to her if I 'bump' into her getting a cup of coffee. On my way, Watson."
"Does that make Banks Inspector Lastrade?"
"Banks is a better cop than that," Blair chided playfully, but Jim had already gone back to his paperwork. Blair could see Rhonda standing in the break room with her back to the door, obviously getting ready to go back to her desk. Since the unofficial policy was gossip was done on personal time, he had to catch her there or risk having her stick strictly to business when she got back to her desk.
Unfortunately his timing was off, though he did manage to catch her before she sat down. After asking if Banks was still being picky about being directly handed certain files, letting a little frustration soak through to prime her for a segue into Carter's job offer, he perched on the edge of her desk to encourage her to talk. To his surprise, she looked around carefully to make sure no one was paying too much attention to them before sagging back in her chair and puffing at a stray lock of hair in aggravation.
"Rough day?" Blair asked, dropping his own problems.
"Not as bad as some, but worse than many. Lately that's about the best I can say, too," Rhonda admitted.
"I am so sorry to hear that; I thought you really liked it here, despite the stress that's practically a free-floating toxin in the place." Blair leaned forward and added softly, to subtly persuade her, "Not to mention the serious risk of testosterone poisoning."
Snorting, Rhonda said, "I'm the only girl in the middle of four brothers; I've been immunized against testosterone." She chewed at her lipstick and added, "It gave me a heck of an understanding of how men communicate, too. Or don't, as the case may be."
"Bilingual, sort of," Blair said with a smirk.
She didn't answer it, but looked thoughtfully at the door to Simon's office. "It's been useful, especially lately. Thing is, it might give me insight into what's wrong, but it doesn't really help me fix it."
"Maybe I can do it for you?"
"I wish, Blair, oh, I wish. Simon needs a friend so bad. It's so hard for a man in his position to maintain any kind of relationship because he has no life outside the station, and it's hard to socialize from inside it because of his rank. You and Jim managed it somehow, and since everything went south with you, he's been so alone!"
Very gently, Blair said, "It wasn't our choice, Rhonda, and while I don't know if we could ever go back to the way it was with Simon, Jim and I would welcome a chance to patch things up."
Rhonda studied him for a long minute, then said, "So Carter is just doing his dog in the manger thing again, where you're concerned. There's no chance he's talked you into transferring and Simon isn't trying to make you."
"He offered, I said no, no qualms or second guessing. As for Simon pressuring me, we'd leave if it came to that."
"We, Blair?"
Jim unexpectedly spoke up from behind Blair. "We, Rhonda. Come on, partner, we've got that witness interview in a half-hour, and it's all the way on the other side of town. Rhonda, don't you have to get the Grianni files back down to records before they close?"
"Damn," Rhonda and Blair said in unison, laughed, then the three of them were in motion, hustling back to the job, both mentally and physically.
As Blair bounced off Rhonda's desk, he thought he saw a flicker of motion near Simon's office window, but before he could turn toward it, Jim caught him by the elbow and urged him out. Rhonda scurried out ahead of them, and the air currents in her wake carried a scent that almost dragged Blair to a halt - fresh cigar smoke. He risked a quick glance back, in time to see Simon's door silently ease shut.
Letting Jim move him along, Blair silently mused, Simon must have come back for something while Rhonda and I were both in the break room. Which Jim would have picked up on, and he's rescuing all of us from the embarrassment of finding out that Simon heard mine and Rhonda's conversation. Oh, man, thank god for sentinel gifts and Jim's good heart. Not to mention Jim's innate sense of authority dynamics that let him and Simon be friends in the first place. They've always managed to maintain a good balance of power, like Jim and I had.
The last thought had no sooner darted across his consciousness than Blair grabbed at the last word and mentally stared at it. Had? HAD?
He stumbled slightly, to be instantly steadied by Jim, and the contact burned through him, body, mind and heart. It was an automatic gesture on Jim's part; not even noticed in his hurry to get Blair out of the building. For Blair it was another example of how Jim took care of him, and under other circumstances, he wouldn't have noticed it himself, he took it so much for granted, just like Jim would have if the situation had been reversed. Mutual support was that normal for them, that much a part of their rapport.
Yet he was suddenly resentful of the helpful hand at his arm, finding it a fetter, as if Jim didn't want him to be able to stand on his own. Which was so blatantly, patently ridiculous that Blair effortlessly banished the emotion, seeing it as a cover for a sense of overwhelming vulnerability that was so alien to his nature as to have been unrecognizable to this point. Even when he'd been chained to a dentist chair or staring down the barrel of Alex's gun, he hadn't felt this helpless and endangered. Always before, he'd been talking, thinking, scheming, twisting on the hook of whatever menace held him in bold and desperate efforts to free himself. Added to his confidence in his ability to survive was his certainty in Jim's instinctive and willing need to protect him.
Sneaking a side-long look at his partner, unsurprised they had made it to the truck and gotten on their way without him being aware of it, Blair realized with an aching, shamed pain that Jim couldn't save him this time because Jim was the source of his danger. Nor could he escape from him because it would destroy everything Blair was to betray him. Worse, it would destroy Jim as surely as a bullet in the brain.
Hunching in on himself and staring sightlessly out the side window, Blair miserably wondered how something so devastating and ugly could have roots in one of the most beautiful moments of his life. That golden sun-bathed afternoon in their big bed was second in his heart only to the first time Jim had voluntarily kissed him, telling him without words that they would try to make the terrifying, thrilling change to lovers. It was also the source of his strange behavior; he had been distancing himself from Jim to prove that he could. That he didn't *have* to have more of that honey warm and sensuous love-making. That he was in charge of his body and his life, not Jim, and not the tremendous hunger that made him a bitch in heat, ready to beg, any time, any place.
"Balance of power," Blair thought, picking at a speck on the glass. "Jim's got it all now, because I can't live without him, and it would kill me to never have him again. My entire life is out of my hands, and in his. The only defense I apparently think I have is convincing him that I don't need him, don't have to be with him. No wonder I was in such blind denial. What the fuck am I going to do? I can't even talk to him about it without it looking like I don't trust him or that I need to dominate him."
Caught in the trap of his own mind, Blair poked and prodded at himself, trying to find a way out of his dilemma all the way to their meeting with the witness. Forcing his attention back to the job, he played his part as usual, only to drop back into deep brooding on the way home. Jim let him get away with it, not so much as breaking the dismal silence between them, letting it last all through dinner and the first part of the evening.
It wasn't until Blair began to get angry with himself, viciously wondering if it were possible to be literally smothered from silence that Jim finally spoke up. "I don't know exactly what's going on in your head, but it's really hurting you, Chief. Isn't there anything I can do to help?"
Jumping off the couch to pace, as much because a part of him wanted to take the innocent comment as a come-on as because he needed to expend nervous energy, Blair said, "Not really. I mean, usually talking things out, having a sounding board is a good thing, but there's no way I can put any of this in words. I mean, the whole point of talking is to define and refine and clarify, but this seriously defies the possibility of being accurately characterized. For the first time I really feel how it must be for you so much of the time to have a couple of handfuls of words to express things that can't or shouldn't be forced down to such limiting parameters."
"We could...."
"Intimacy might seem like a good idea right now, too," Blair interrupted, perfectly aware he was running off at the mouth as another way to assert himself and stay in control, however superficial it was. "A massage to relax, snuggling to comfort, even sex as a soporific, and hey, normally, I'd be the first to suggest it. Get the body out of the equation, get the brain more or less offline to let the subconscious speak up loud and clear. Not to mention it feels pretty damned good, too, but you know, in this case, since that's what got me here in the first place, you'll understand that I'm more than a little hesitant to attempt to use that particular tool."
"Blair...."
"I know, I know, I shouldn't reduce it to pure functionality like that, but I have to tell you, it beats the hell out of ruining the first time you touched me without thinking, 'I'm with a man,' or comparing the experience, on some level or another, to all the ones I've had with women. Honestly, I think it was the first time that the whole gay thing didn't at least flash across your mind, too. First time ever, actually, that it was just the moment for me, no worries about whether or not it's good for my partner or cataloguing how she's reacting so I can get a repeat performance later. It's that balance of power thing again, in one of its more socially accepted norms. She doesn't want to say yes because of the risks involved to her, so you have to make sure it's good so she'll be willing to repeat the risk, all while not risking yourself by letting her jump to conclusions about your intentions after the deed is done."
Abruptly Blair shut his mouth, aware that he had said far more than he had meant to and was getting much too close to the truth. To his consternation, Jim's eyes had sharpened, as if he'd heard a witness drop an important clue, but then he softened into such a loving, amused expression that it baffled the hell out of Blair. At the very least, he expected irritation from him, if not for the inane chatter, then for the manic, anxious pacing and hand waving that had accompanied it.
Instead Jim gingerly captured his wrist, using a light grip that an infant could break. "That was the first time you let yourself get carried away in bed; just let go and let what happens happen?"
"Uh, well, it's important to be considerate to your partner, you know. Pay attention to your technique, keep a ...."
Jim brushed his thumb over Blair's cheek, derailing his babble. "Chief."
"No, it's always been hard for me to just relax and enjoy it; usually my mind's racing until nearly the end." Blair confessed, dropping his eyes at the sympathy in Jim's. "I've heard how good it can be to get swept away by it all, but I guess I've never reached quite that level of abandon."
"Or trusted anyone quite that much," Jim added for him. "It's only happened a time or two for me, not counting the total insanity with McCarty." He hesitated, but went on, fingertips gently wandering Blair's face in tiny, tender strokes. "Having it be like that for you the first time you turned over for me - do you have any idea what that does to me?"
"Oh," Blair whispered, mesmerized by Jim's sultry tone and fleeting touches.
"I have to admit," Jim whispered, pulling away a half-step, "I'm a little envious."
Without thinking, Blair closed the gap between them and lowered his voice to match Jim's. "Envious?"
"It's not going to be that easy for me. I've thought about it too often for too long."
"I always thought you'd go first," Blair said, licking his lips and body responding powerfully to the memory of all the times he'd fantasized about taking him.
Jim inched backwards again, coaxing Blair into moving with him to stay close with a lingering caress along Blair's throat. "Me, too. Maybe...." He stopped, swaying forward almost close enough to be chest to chest, then seemingly caught himself and drew back another step.
"Maybe?" Blair followed him, wanting to feel the heat of him if he could have nothing else.
"Maybe we can consider Saturday a detour of a sorts? I know you don't think sex will help, but putting that afternoon aside, just for a while, and getting back to where we were heading could make it easier for you to gain some perspective."
Tempted, maybe too tempted, Blair murmured, "I don't know."
Feathering kisses over Blair's forehead, Jim said, "I honestly don't think it can hurt for us to reconnect again, on a basic level like that. And we both want it pretty bad, right now."
Blair started to demure again, but made the mistake of lifting his gaze from the floor, unintentionally letting it slide up Jim's body until he caught sight of the obvious mound of Jim's arousal. Acting on instinct, impulse, something that he had no way of controlling, Blair reached out and traced the rigid line of Jim's cock, not surprised to find a damp spot over the head. Jim backed away from the teasing touch, and Blair chased after him to do it again, echoing his moan of delight.
It shook him how fast and hard need had risen, and he made a last attempt to defuse it. Dropping his hand to his side, Blair took a deep breath, shaking his head as if to clear it. "So you want to act like nothing is wrong between us and just go fuck."
Not deterred by how nasty and callous Blair made his suggestion sound, Jim said, hands darting over Blair's upper arms and shoulders for soft pats, "I want you to do me. I want to have you in me. And yes, to be blunt if that's what you need to hear, I want you to fuck me."
Hearing Jim ask for that, in just that way, was more than Blair could stand. He stretched up to take Jim's mouth properly, trying to wrap his arms around Jim's waist, but he was a breath beyond reach. Blindly Blair shuffled forward to find him and encountered bare flesh. With a rumble of pleasure that Jim had taken his shirt off, Blair quickly limned out the planes of Jim's chest, then attempted to wind himself around him. Jim gracefully shimmied away, leaving their fused lips as their only point of contact, returning the deep kiss. Frustrated, Blair caught Jim's head between his palms and held on tightly, intending to hook a leg behind his knee and bring them down to the floor.
Anticipating the move, Jim leaned into Blair, rubbing along his front, and Blair realized with a start that his shirts were gone, too. Jim had lost more than that though; he was totally nude and rapidly divesting Blair of the rest of his clothes as well. Deciding he could go for that, he really, really could, he let Jim handle him while he concentrated on tongue fucking his mouth until they were both almost ready to come.
With a moan that was tinged with pain, Jim tore himself away from their kiss, holding Blair by the shoulders to stop him from reconnecting their lips.
"No," Blair said roughly, "Let me."
"Blair," Jim said, voice so raw and reverent Blair hardly understood his own name. He sat on the bed, hands sliding down to Blair's hips. A distant, barely cognizant part of Blair admired how deftly Jim had contrived to get them upstairs without him noticing, but most of him was lost in Jim's passion-dazed eyes.
"I want to see your face while we do this, okay?" Jim asked.
Swallowing hard, lust simultaneously spiking high and clearing away some of the fog, Blair said, "What do you have in mind?"
For an answer, Jim hastily draped a pillow over the wire railing and lay on his back in the middle of the bed, head toward the foot of it. Not needing any instructions, Blair crawled onto it with him, making a place for himself between Jim's wantonly spread legs. Snagging what they would need for the nightstand and placing it where he could retrieve it in a hurry, Blair finally, *finally* spread himself over Jim, trembling and crying out at the sweetness of flesh flowing over flesh.
Hugging Blair with all four limbs, Jim bucked once, groaned, and shot, body shuddering so violently, it worried Blair. He started to lift up enough to check on him, but Jim tightened his hold. "Please... God, please, Blair... more."
The cock trapped against Blair pulsed and throbbed, as hard as ever, and he gasped, fighting to stop the climax trying to claw out of him. As if sensing how close Blair was, Jim abruptly relented and dropped his hands to the mattress to clench the bedding. He hooked his heels over the railing where he had draped the pillow earlier and slowly lolled his thighs open. Kneeling up, one hand on his hip to maintain contact, Blair watched him fight his own battle, understanding without being told the reasons for it. Jim fought to stay passive and not assert his masculinity; he fought to be open and vulnerable, not just with another person, but with a man; he fought to find the same surrender that he had coaxed so effortlessly from Blair.
And that, Blair saw with sudden insight, was an important difference. Jim had to face the consequences of this ultimate giving of himself before he did it. Blair had had to face it in the aftermath, and he had been unable to do so. To add to his turmoil, it had been the first time in his life that he had ever given himself completely to a lover, and that had scared him shitless.
Propping himself up on one elbow, he leaned over Jim and kissed him again, this time with as much love as he could put into it. "I'm sorry."
At Jim's questioning look, Blair added, "I got so trapped in my own head, I lost sight of the simple fact that we're taking this trip together."
"Every step of the way," Jim said softly, reaching up to sweep a lock of Blair's hair away from his face.
"It couldn't be any other way for us." Blair scooped up some of the seed on Jim's stomach and massaged it lightly over Jim's pucker, then slipped a finger inside.
Peering at Blair through his lashes, relaxing to accept the intrusion, Jim murmured, "It's more than worth it, you know."
The yielding heat clasping his finger undid Blair's ability to think or hold back any longer. Whispering "I love you," over and over, he made sure Jim was ready for him, spread lube over his hard-on, and positioned the head of his cock at Jim's opening. Taking a deep breath in a vain effort to calm himself a little, he gently pushed, meeting Jim's answering thrust as gingerly as he could. There was some resistance from the guardian muscle, and some pain to judge by the tightening of Jim's lips, but neither of them stopped. Neither of them *could* have stopped, and soon Blair was sheathed entirely in Jim's body.
Helplessly staring down at where they were joined, Blair slowly withdrew, as turned on by the sight of him taking Jim as by the incredible feel of it. When he was on the verge of leaving the haven he had found for his cock, he paused, licked his lips, and watched himself sink back into Jim millimeter by millimeter. He could feel Jim's gaze on his face, and knew the wonder and love he felt showed clearly there for him to read, completing Jim's pleasure in a very necessary way.
Much as he wanted to prolong their love-making, his libido had demands of its own to make. When he was balls deep in Jim again, he tried to retreat as slowly as he'd entered, but could not. He sped up, finding a fast, hard rhythm that yanked sharp cries from him with each plunge into his lover. Jim matched the pounding perfectly, too perfectly, and much sooner than Blair wanted, they reached the edge of release together, tumbling over it into a sensory overload that held nothing but satiation and joy.
Blair lazily came back to awareness to find himself on his side, arms wrapped around Jim's shoulders, and Jim's nose burrowed into the hollow of his collar bone. From the lax, pliable feel of the hard body snug against him, he could tell that Jim was on the edge of sleep, which made sense, given that Jim had probably been awake since their siesta on Saturday. Running his fingertips through the short nap of Jim's hair, Blair was content to let him, but Jim stirred, sleepily hugging him closer.
"You okay?" Jim mumbled.
"Much better than okay. You?"
"Other than wondering how we're going to decide who gets to bottom when, no problems at all."
With a snort of laughter, Blair said, "Toss a coin? Cut cards? Bribe each other?"
"That could work, if you offered a blow job. I don't want to give those up, even for bottoming on a regular basis." Jim nuzzled into Blair's throat and sleepily kissed it. "Like having your hands on me, too."
"Just because we've gone all the way doesn't mean we have to give up the love-play that got us here," Blair said softly. "We'll do what we always have - go for what feels right at the moment."
Mumbling something that sounded like an agreement, Jim tightened his arms fractionally and exhaled breathily, almost, but not quite snoring. Dropping a kiss on the top of his head, Blair followed him into slumber, already dreaming of all the interesting side trips still waiting for them. finis