God, he was close, so damn close. Blair could feel one hell of a climax lurking at the very edge of his awareness, infuriatingly just beyond reach. Jim's steady, powerful thrusts were wonderful, fantastic, incredible as always - and for some reason not enough to close the microscopic gap between 'almost there' and bliss. Blair hated being on the brink, needing to work for his finish as if it were a chore; despised it with a ferocity he had for few things in his life.
He rocked back on his hands and knees, frantically trying to get Jim to move faster or harder or *something,* in hopes that it would be enough to finally get him off. But Jim was in no mood to be hurried, apparently. He had settled in for a good, long fuck, not uncommon for them by any stretch, and usually Blair had no problem with that. Once he came, he loved simply soaking up the pleasure of being used, and if he got aroused again, well, he was happy to stay that way, all day sometimes, because Jim really liked it when Blair was horny.
Horny wasn't the same as being frustrated to the point of screaming, and not in the good way that could be part of a long, lovely teasing session. Hoping a change would help, Blair dropped his head down to the mattress, forearms crossed under his forehead, backside high and vulnerable. The new position did marvelous things to his ass, putting pressure in different places so that Jim's cock felt thicker and longer, but even that wasn't enough to trigger his orgasm. He tried clenching his internal muscles, rotating his hips ever so slightly, and while Jim murmured and groaned approval for all of it, none of it worked for Blair.
Finally, in desperation, Blair grabbed his dick, gasping at the sudden shock of the contact which was far more than he expected from such a small thing. A tiny warning sounded at the back of his mind, but he was in free fall already, his entire body tightening in anticipation of release. He smashed through the barrier between hunger and ecstasy, losing all of himself but the relief owning body and mind.
His strength faded with his pleasure, and he was distantly relieved when Jim eased away, allowing him to lie flat on his stomach on the bed. Despite a sense of disquiet, he slid into a light doze that was frequently interrupted with unremembered images that added to his foreboding. Finally he forced himself awake, scrubbing at his face as he sat up.
He was alone, unusual in and of itself, and while he assured himself that Jim had likely gotten a call to go back to work and decided to let him sleep, he knew he was lying. The hollow, aching feeling in the center of his chest made it clear, as did the faint sounds of occupancy coming from the living room. Peeking over the railing, he saw Jim on the couch, restlessly tossing and turning.
For a few minutes Blair let himself believe that he had no idea why Jim was downstairs, sleeping alone. Reaching for annoyance and acting as if he'd grasped it, he flounced back down onto the mattress, rolling himself in the blankets to get warm. Once he was comfortable on his side, head pillowed on an arm, he tried to flog his false irritation into true anger.
He hadn't done anything wrong. If Jim thought he could punish Blair for... whatever he'd gotten pissy about… by abandoning Blair in the middle of the night, well, he'd soon learn that Blair didn't mind not having to share the bed. He was used to it; in fact, it hadn't been that long since that was the norm for him. It wasn't like he had to have that hard, strong body warming him, or those loving arms holding him to get a good night's rest.
If that was the case, a tired, unhappy voice said from the back of Blair's head, why are you crying?
Astonished, Blair reached up and found that his face was indeed, wet, and that the hollowness had expanded to the point that breathing took an effort that hurt. "Because that big jerk isn't where he belongs," he admitted.
The same voice, even more unhappily asked why Jim wasn't.
In answer Blair remembered the night Jim had confessed to what he needed sexually, telling him how he'd wound up spending most nights on the couch when he was married to Carolyn because she couldn't give it to him. And that he was very much afraid his relationship with Blair would end that way as well, once Blair tired of accommodating his 'deviancy.'
"But I'm not tired of being yours," Blair whispered, voice rough from tears. "I love you, love being under your command, love that my body is your possession to do with as you want. I didn't mean to break your cardinal rule of never touching myself. I was just so frustrated, and not in a good way, that I wasn't thinking. It was slip-up, that's all. It doesn't mean the beginning of the end for us. It's just a, a, tiny flaw in our perfect fit, that's all. One we can smooth over or blend away with a little patience, a little care. God, I can't stand the idea that you'd turn away from me over such a stupid mistake."
The mattress dipped with the weight of Jim returning to the bed, but Blair didn't roll over to face him, afraid of what he might see in his lover's expression. "I didn't mean to, honest. It'll never, ever happen again. If you want, we can tie my hands or something, to make sure. I wouldn't mind; you know how much I get off on it when you're dominant and possessive."
Jim spooned up behind him, barely touching, but close enough that the emptiness eroding Blair's heart lost its biting edge. It gave him courage to whisper, "I'm sorry. Please. I'm sorry. I don't want to leave, I don't want to change what we have. Please."
Pulling Blair back against him until he could rest his forehead on the curve of Blair's shoulder, Jim said, "Shh, shh. I'm the one who should be apologizing. I should have been paying more attention, realized you weren't able to come and helped you with it. I've been there myself; I know how miserable it is."
"No, no," Blair protested instantly, turning in Jim's embrace until he could cradle Jim's head against his chest. "I should have warned you that it happens to me once in a while, and I'll speak up if it's ever a problem again, I promise."
He felt Jim's resistance to the absolution and added persuasively, "You need to be able to let go, take what you need without worrying about me. It's important to me that you have that freedom, and it's not like I don't get a lot out of it. One of my favorite things in the world is waking up and realizing that you took me while I was asleep. It makes me feel, I don't know, cherished, wanted, sexed up in the best way possible."
"Blair," Jim started.
Pressing closer so his growing length jabbed at Jim's tummy, Blair interrupted, "See what just thinking about it does to me? No way am I ever, ever going to even think about going back to just being your partner and roomie."
Moaning, Jim pulled away, but only so he could claim Blair's mouth in a devouring, dirty kiss that Blair returned, putting all the love and need he had into it. When they were both short of air, Jim put Blair under him, framing Blair's face between gently cupping palms. "I wasn't worrying if you were tired of me; I was plotting ways to make sure that you never did. Whatever it takes, Blair. You're mine, now, and yes, I know how obsessive and insane that sounds, but you are and it's too late to change it."
With a shudder of pure joy, Blair muttered, "Don't you ever forget it, either." Fingers digging cruelly into the nape of Jim's neck, he pulled him down into another consuming kiss. They fought with the blankets to get them out of the way so they could be skin-to-skin, tangling together so completely Blair wasn't sure where he left off and Jim began. That was perfect, that was exactly what was required to erase the pain that had been gnawing on him. In short order they were both furiously erect, panting and rocking into each other, not to climax, but be as one, as only lovers can be.
Eventually Jim locked his fingers around Blair's upper arms and shoved him down the length of his body until he was up close and personal with Jim's cock. "Suck me. Use both hands so you won't be tempted into trouble."
Blair obeyed readily, accepting that they had to have physical confirmation of the submission that lay at the core of their relationship, entwined thoroughly with the love that was the bedrock of their lives. Holding the base of Jim's shaft in one hand, delicately massaging Jim's opening with the other, Blair crouched on his knees between Jim's wide flung legs and swirled his tongue around the crown of Jim's cock, slowly working his way downward and occasionally flicking at the rim of the cap. With a snarl of impatience Jim knotted his fists into the curls over Blair's ears and thrust, almost brutally filling Blair's throat.
Skilled at giving head, no matter how violently, Blair adjusted to their rising urgency, timing his breaths to Jim's hammering. Short, sharp jabs of lust came and went low in his belly, and he hunched uselessly, eager noises escaping from him when they could. In very short order he was ready to come again, and could tell that Jim was, too. Anticipating the wild bucking that would accompany Jim's loss of control, Blair braced his forearms on Jim's thighs and increased suction.
To his surprise, Jim tugged him upwards, guiding him so that Blair's dick slipped into the crevasse between his thighs, closing around it. With a startled, delighted cry, Blair thrust, meeting the answering lift of Jim's hips. The friction was so damned sweet and hot that he only lasted a few strokes before he poured himself over Jim, receiving a rush of slick warmth in return.
Marking me, marking *us* with scent, Blair murmured to himself as the rush of climax faded. Good. Good.
He would have been content to drift off as they were, but Jim roused himself long enough to tidy them both up, then lay on his back. Tucked up under Jim's arm, head in the hollow of his shoulder, Blair drifted in the nether land in between asleep and awake, thoughts rambling lazily from topic to topic. Without consciously deciding to do so, he suddenly asked, "How did you know what you were looking for in the bedroom? Fantasies? One of your first lovers showed you? 'Cause I have to tell you, discovering I needed what we share was a shock to me. In fact, if asked before we got together, I would have had to admit I didn't really have a single kink."
Maybe because of the crisis earlier, or maybe, despite sentinel senses, Jim found darkness conducive to intimate discussions, too, he said slowly, "I've always known, since I was a kid. You know how they talk about the innocence of childhood?" At Blair's nod, he went on. "I don't think I ever had that because I saw and heard things I wasn't supposed to, including people in our neighborhood having sex. One of the couples - well, he was an abusive, sadistic bastard who had had a long time to train his wife to obey his every word and never think or want for herself, even in the bedroom. Or maybe especially in the bedroom, I don't know. All I'm sure of is that I was fascinated and repulsed by what they did, which didn't make it easy when my hormones started getting interested in it."
"Oh, man." Blair kissed the curve of Jim's collar bone and squirmed closer. "You must have thought you were some kind of monster for getting turned on by her pain, not realizing it was the control that had you by the balls."
"Lucky for me that my first time worked out the way it did. We were fourteen, she was incredibly shy and wanted me to show her what to do and how to do it. Went a long way toward sorting things out in my head." Jim sighed, and fell silent for a moment.
From the way he went so still, the heart beat under his ear racing, Blair suspected he wasn't going to like what Jim had to say next, but for Jim's sake, waited until he could say it.
Finally, Jim said, "I was seventeen the first time a guy got close enough for me to be willing to take a chance with him. He didn't seem to mind taking orders, then got vicious when I couldn't let him take 'his turn.' That made me leery of trying men again. The next time…."
Jim shut up so abruptly that Blair couldn't help but think that he did it to stop his voice from shaking. Trying to communicate compassion and love with only gentle strokes and nuzzling, Blair encouraged him to finish. Finally Jim blurted, "The next time I was with one again was when a senior officer spent a weekend raping me."
"Oh, my, god." Blair sat bolt upright in bed, instantly furious. "Who? Tell me the asshole isn't dead, please!"
"Blair!"
"I want the satisfaction of killing him myself! Let me guess - he made sure there was no way you could press charges or prove that he'd done it without getting yourself dishonorably discharged."
"Something like that," Jim mumbled. He added something Blair couldn't hear, but said louder, "I turned the tables on him, except I made sure that I had proof of what I'd done to keep him and his buddies away from me." At Blair's sudden, violent attack on the mattress, he added hastily, "He just threatened me with them; he never got the chance to do more. And by the time I was done with him, he was peddling his ass on the wharfs in San Francisco."
"Good!" Blair pounded the bed again. "Good!" Loving hands caught his arm and gingerly tugged him back into the sanctuary of Jim's arms. It took several long minutes for him to process away the first wave of fury, at least well enough to deal with the more important issue at hand - Jim.
As if hearing the questions Blair couldn't find safe enough words for, Jim said, "Incacha helped me heal from the fallout from that, Chief. Convinced me that it was okay not to be able to yield; that, for me, it was natural, maybe even a vital part of being a sentinel."
Confused by the last, Blair said, "But I top you all the time."
With a snort that held no amusement, Jim said, "That's not submission to me. That's love. You're the only one I've ever voluntarily turned over for, and I do it for you, not that I don't love having you inside me. It's because it's *you,* if that makes any sense."
The only reasonable response to that was to lean up and kiss him thoroughly, sweetly, and they languidly traded ownership of the caress back and forth, conversation forgotten as they lulled each other into slumber.
Though Blair expected Jim to be more possessive and demanding the next morning, in reaction to the turmoil of the night, he was vaguely disappointed when Jim was just Jim, like always. Thinking perhaps he was the one who really needed affirmation of their relationship, he tried to be extra attentive and Jim rewarded him by being more hands on than ever. Regardless, a niggle of unease haunted him, putting an edge on his attentions that he could only pray that Jim didn't pick up on.
No matter how many times he told himself that one little glitch didn't mean anything, that all lovers had those moments when they were simply out of sync for whatever reason, he couldn't stop remembering all those instances when it had been a harbinger for more serious problems. It had been so bad on a couple of occasions that he had learned to cut his losses and break up before bad feelings set in, which was *not* an option in this case. Worry and fear killed his appetite for sex, while contrarily boosting his hunger for intimacy, which would have made performing in the bedroom a problem, at best. Blessedly several cases came up that demanded so much from them that they hardly saw their bed for nearly a week and didn't have enough energy to do anything but sleep in it.
The morning after they finally got in at a reasonable hour and had a full night's rest, he was caught completely off-guard when Jim intercepted him on the way out the door. Hiding a flash of alarm, he stretched up as if thinking Jim wanted a goodbye kiss, and Jim caught him by the elbows, effortlessly holding him on his toes. Taking the offered kiss, Jim made it promissory with a slick invasion of tongue that blocked Blair's air, then lowered him to his feet.
Rucking up Blair's shirts, Jim said, "I want to put one of your chains on you. Hold still."
Despite all his anxieties, a shock of pure lust went through Blair as he complied, and he whimpered at the tug and pull on the sensitive bits of flesh as Jim attached the black strand of metal with its red stones to Blair's nipple rings. Half hard by the time he was done, Blair was disappointed when Jim pulled his clothes back in place, then brushed his lips over Blair's brow. "There'll be more, later. You okay until then?"
"Yeah, but how much later?" Blair reached for a saucy tone and found it.
Laughing, Jim led the way out. "The wait is half the fun, Chief."
"So you say, but I have to tell you, there are definitely times when my libido doesn't agree with that."
"Only until you come so hard you pass out," Jim shot back.
They traded the half-flirtatious, half-serious banter all the way to the truck, then lost it under the usual hassles of getting where they needed to be. By midmorning, Blair had grown accustomed to the weight and movement of the chain, but it wasn't enough to cool the slow simmer it caused. That didn't stop a flair of hope when Jim suggested that they interview several witnesses, then take an early lunch before visiting one of his snitches. Not that either of them were into making out when Jim was on duty, but a man could fantasize, couldn't he? Besides, he'd always enjoyed traveling with Jim on his work-related rounds. Outside of the bullpen Jim would often slip into a state somewhere between cop and friend, sharing insights, theories, even half-formed ideas with Blair as they rode.
He was totally unprepared for Jim to feel him up after ordering him to move to the center of the bench seat and use the seat belt there. Blair quickly glanced in all directions to make sure that no one was high enough to see down into the truck, then lolled his legs apart to give Jim easy access. It didn't take him long to become totally hard, panting behind his hands so the sunny world outside the truck's windows would have no reason to wonder why he was. Traffic stalled and Jim took the opportunity to undo Blair's pants and take out his hardon, jacking it until Blair had to kill moans while still deep in his chest to hide them from the people in the cars around them.
It felt so damned good, but he couldn't relax enough to finish. The sound of a horn or an angry shout would pull him back from the brink, but it didn’t stop him from using Jim's hand freely. He tried to reciprocate, but Jim shook his head, indicating with a wave the need for one of them to stay focused on their surroundings. When the jam broke up, Jim took another chain out of his pocket and deftly wrapped it around Blair's balls and the base of his shaft, ornamenting them nicely.
"That," Jim said slowly, with a tone in his voice that Blair had never heard before, "is a good look on you." With a last, lingering stroke that ended with a sweep of his thumb over the cap, he tucked Blair's cock back where it belonged. Holding Blair's wide-eyed gaze, he licked the traces of moisture from his thumb as if he were licking something else entirely.
Blair's insides went into a complete meltdown, and he swallowed hard, fighting a ridiculous urge to rip Jim's clothes off right there and beg. For what, exactly, he had no idea, but was pretty sure that Jim might have an idea or two on the subject.
Without thinking, he asked, "May I adjust the fit on that? So I don't get any hairs pulled when we get out of the truck."
"No." Jim's jaw muscle jumped, and his expression went blank. "If there's a problem, you tell me, and I take care of it. Understood?"
"I, uh, yes, yes, I do." Blair winced, wondering how those words managed to sound as if he'd said, 'fuck me, fuck me now.'
Apparently Jim didn't have a problem with picking up on the subtext because he flicked a look at Blair that said clearly, "Soon, lover, soon."
Ahead of them a lane opened and vehicles broke for it kamikaze style, and Jim had to concentrate on not getting killed by one of them. That was a good thing, in Blair's opinion, because it gave him a chance to cool down before he burst into spontaneous orgasm. During the rest of the trip he was ultra aware of the adornments under his clothes, and the first few steps toward the witness' place of business were… interesting.
He liked the subtle caress of the extra weight and the facets and jewels had to have been well polished to prevent them from pinching or catching. In fact, they slid sensuously over his skin as he walked, distracting him to the point he had trouble watching where he went. Jim kept a hand in the small of his back, though, which helped ground him so the he could concentrate on the business at hand.
After they spent several useless hours talking with people who couldn't contribute more than he and Jim already knew, they turned toward the tourist part of town to meet with Jim's snitch. By then Blair had grown, well, not accustomed to the new chain, but able to push his awareness of it down to tolerable levels. Jim had stayed in cop mode during and between the interviews, which allowed Blair to beat down his lust, as well.
Once they were on Quincy street, however, Jim relaxed considerably, almost as if he were going off-duty in his own mind. Blair tired to convince himself that it was simply part of fitting into the casual, unhurried atmosphere in that neighborhood, but couldn't get past the fact that Jim had arranged a meet in the one place in Cascade where even a seriously closeted gay or lesbian couple would be comfortable holding hands. Jim had to have ulterior motives, and Blair was practically vibrating with curiosity at what they were.
Jim parked a distance away from their ultimate destination, claiming he wanted to enjoy the sunshine and stretch his legs, and that they had time before their appointment. By then Blair would have gone along with anything he suggested, without so much as a quip, because Jim was sporting the promise of serious wood. Whatever he had in mind had to be *good* if his control was slipping that much.
Arm around each other's waist, they strolled down a sidewalk bordered by trees on the boulevard side and a wide variety of interesting shops on the other. The people around them were an eclectic mix of same sex couples, tourists looking for vicarious thrills, and locals who pretended they saw nothing unusual with the public displays of affection between the couples. Here and there earnest, plainly dressed women handed out flyers and tried to engage in conversation with passersby, without much success.
At night the gays and lesbians would out-number the straights five to one, which was part of the reason why the eight blocks between Quincy and Fulbright rarely had trouble with bashers. On the rare occasion they came in force, they were met by equal numbers - unfavorable odds for most who lived to hate. It made the area a safe-haven, of a sorts, for the less militant and more vulnerable, giving the local populace a flash and flamboyance that drew visitors looking for the unusual or the entertaining.
Blair felt right at home, and even Jim's cop aura didn't stop them from blending in so well that they didn't get a second look from anyone. The best part was that he and Jim could claim, if the wrong person saw them, that they were acting the part of a couple to blend in and not call attention to Jim's snitch. Blair took an uncomplicated pleasure in being out on a bright, clear day with Jim at his side, proclaiming by the way they held each other that they were together.
They reached a part of the block were waist high walls had been built next to the stairs and ramps to the basements of buildings in order to keep rainwater from the street gutters from flooding those entrances. Many of the residents and shop owners had incorporated the tiny alcoves into their decor, turning them into miniature gardens and patios. Much to Blair's amusement, Jim detoured them from the sidewalk to walk along those narrow paths, probably forgetting that at night they were used for much more sexually illicit purposes.
Maybe not, he amended to himself a moment later when Jim came to a stop in one wildly over-grown patch. Leaning on the wall as if to people watch, hands clasped in front of him dangling over it, he asked, "Is the new chain giving you any problems?"
Brain stumbling from the abrupt shift in conversation, Blair said, "Huh? Oh. No, it's good. Well, better than good, actually, but I'm dealing with it."
"I want to make sure. Stand next to me, same position I'm in." Jim didn't look at him, but the thread of command was clear in his voice.
Doing as he was told, Blair stood a socially acceptable distance away, not wanting to give any pedestrians the wrong idea about them stopping where they were. He tried to admire the view, but kept a weather eye on his partner, who seemed to be scouring the immediate area as if looking for a suspect.
He was thoroughly confused when Jim said, "The coast is clear. Undo your pants and let me check that chain out, now."
"Here?!"
"Why not?" Jim asked too reasonably. "No one will see, and if you're quick enough, no one will notice that you moved your hands for a moment."
Cheeks burning, Blair stuttered, "I… you… whoa, not… here?"
"Here." This time it was an order, and Jim pivoted to face him. "Now."
Following one of Jim's commands more hesitantly than he ever had before, Blair fought to keep his expression bland as he bared himself. If the chain had been catching or binding, he didn't think could have brought himself to do anything about it under the circumstances. He couldn't even look down to check if it was fastened right.
"No one can see except me, I promise," Jim said softly.
Shrugging, Blair clenched his hands together and waited for Jim to tell him where they were going with this.
Jim swept a stray curl back behind Blair's ear and brushed his knuckles over his temple. "A couple of mid-western ladies are wondering if we're going to do anything while we're back here. They're half titillated and half shocked."
"Oh, god." Blair felt his blush deepen, and his balls tried to crawl up into his belly.
"Want to really give them a thrill?"
Successfully hiding both a flinch and a bolt of understanding, Blair thought, It's a test. He must want to make sure I meant what I said after I messed up the other night.
Aloud he said calmly, "Whatever you want, partner. I'll be honest, I'd rather not, but I'll do my best for you."
An emotion that Blair couldn't name flickered through Jim's eyes, and he reached for Blair's exposed cock, only to tenderly tuck it away and do up the zipper to cover it. Blair couldn't quite stop a sigh of relief, then a quiver, when Jim gave him the gentlest, sweetest of kisses. He gathered all of Blair's curls into a ponytail and nosed at his ear, murmuring his name.
Stepping away with obvious reluctance, Jim handed him a hair tie. "Put your hair back for me, please, and take out the top hoop in your ear." Blair complied to those innocent orders eagerly, grinning when Jim added, "Now they're making those little noises most women make when they see something cute."
He took the offered earring and fitted it into his own ear. From a pocket he produced a single ruby stud that matched the chains hidden by Blair's clothing. "Wear this until I tell you to remove it, please."
Blair turned it so that it caught the light and sparkled, then placed it in his earlobe. "Why would I ever want to take it out? It's beautiful."
"It's got the perfect setting, then, to compliment it." Before Blair could react to the unexpected and flowery praise, Jim cupped his elbow and drew him across the street. On the way two middle-aged ladies, comfortable in t-shirts, jeans, and sneakers, practically beamed at them. Blair beamed back and added a saucy wink that won him giggles from them - and a chuckle from Jim.
A few moments later they went through a set of unremarkable double doors that led to a foyer tastefully done in antiques and greenery. Over the door at the far end was a simple gold and black sign that said, "Medina's"
Stopping short, Blair read it aloud and added, "I've heard of this place, which puts me in a very small fraction of Cascade's population. It's reservation only, and you can't get one unless you've been recommended by at least two of the established patrons."
"Good, then you know that gawking and staring is rude, but restrained watching is considered complimentary." Jim urged him back into motion, opened the door for him, and said to the woman in the halter top behind the hostess podium, "Ellison, party of three."
"This way, please."
They followed her, and Blair struggled with everything he had not to stare at the whip marks on her bare back and showing above her fishnet stockings, below her leather micromini skirt. Her hair was swept up onto her head to show off her jeweled collar from all sides, and it matched the cuffs on her wrists and around her ankles above the straps of her spike heels.
The only reason she stood out from the majority of the clientele was that she had menus in her hand and a pen perched over one ear.
"But is the food good?" Blair whispered for only one set of ears, pleased when Jim had to duck his head to hide a grin.
After they were seated, Jim murmured, "Yes, it is." His grin flashed again at Blair's double 'take.' "The atmosphere isn't exactly to my taste but I don't have a problem with it or those who prefer it."
"I wouldn't think The Community would be able to support a restaurant devoted exclusively to their standards of comfort," Blair mused, discreetly peering about. Except for attire and the occasional person standing or kneeling next to another customer, it was like any other high class establishment he'd ever been in.
"It doesn't. Most of these people are dilettantes, wannabees, or just into the look." Jim studied his menu, giving every appearance of not having the slightest interest in what was going on around him. "Not that those in the life don't frequent the place. I'm told, like anybody else, they appreciate having a place where they can be themselves and have an evening out with the person they love without causing a disruptive scene."
"Who told you?" Blair asked.
"That would be me, sweet thing," a male voice drawled from behind them.
An older man, probably in his early sixties, dressed dapperly in a three piece suit, dropped into the chair opposite Blair's. He had a full head of gray hair, a gray mustache and goatee, and the merriest green eyes Blair had had the pleasure of looking into. "Ross Vernoy, at your service. I own this delightful establishment."
"Blair Sandburg. And I'm betting that I'm not going to hear the tale of how you and Jim got to be well acquainted enough for that to come up in conversation."
Laughing, Ross said, "That would be pillow talk. Now if you're…"
"Mine." Jim didn't look up from deciding what to have for lunch. "If you so much as try to cop a feel, I will tell Madam Ezmarelda where she can find your tape collection."
Without missing a beat, Ross went on. "… looking for the most truthful version, you'll have to ask Mr. James when he's in a mellow mood."
Blair couldn't stop the laugh that bubbled up at the exchange, and the dry look sent his way made it worse.
Ross said, "Easy for you to chuckle; you don't live in terror of Ezzy. Now, may I make a suggestion on what to order?"
During their meal, Ross proved himself to be as charming and witty as his self-introduction indicated. He kept up a running commentary on his clientele that was scandalous, highly informative and very entertaining, providing Blair with one of the more fascinating lunches he'd had while riding with Jim. Ross's conversation inspired the anthropologist in Blair, and he found himself making his own observations and formulating theories on subgroups and identity rituals. Listening non-judgmentally, Ross agreed, disagreed, or put forward other, surprisingly insightful interpretations for behavior.
Throughout the cheerful discussion, Ross offered to make introductions for Blair if he seemed interested in a particular person or in learning more about a specific kink. He made the same offers to Jim, though in that case, it was for whoever was sending interested looks Jim's way. Jim let his remarks flow past him with nary a ripple, as if he were polished rock and Ross' chatter was water.
If Blair went by Ross' unperturbed attitude at having his offers ignored, it was a long-standing contest of wills between them. Privately Blair theorized that Ross intuitively picked up on the 'in-command' part of Jim's sexuality, but didn't understand how it worked since Jim obviously wasn't interested in the bdsm scene. In fact, Jim effortlessly stared down anyone who decided to approach their table without an invitation, his genuine ability to kill easily trumping the need to dominate/be dominated.
It wasn't until the meal was done and they rose to leave that police business came up, and that was only a hidden exchange of a slip of paper during Jim and Ross' farewell handshake. Expression momentarily serious, Ross said, "When you make up your mind what you want, Jimmy, I'm here to help, no questions."
Curling his fingers around the nape of Blair's neck, thumb stroking along Blair's jaw and cheek, Jim said, "I'm one of the lucky ones; I have what I want. But thank you. If you or yours have a problem, you have my home number."
Not releasing him, increasing the heat that Blair had felt the second Jim had claimed him with such a possessive, intimate gesture, Jim guided him toward the exit. Twice he used his own body to block tentative reaches for Blair from those who couldn't quite believe that a single touch could be as obvious as a collar or leash. Deliberately shrinking into Jim's side, away from the possibility of contact, to make claims of his own, Blair savored a fierce joy at the flashes of disappointment and envy in more than one face normally schooled to indifference or ennui.
Once they were back in the foyer, Jim gave a little squeeze and stepped away, but Blair turned his head to feather a kiss over his wrist as he left. "Enjoy that bit of bragging that I'm yours?"
"Didn't you?" Jim's tone was non-committal, but Blair couldn't miss the happiness in his eyes.
Once on the street they reluctantly dropped into their usual 'partner's on the job' personae, but Blair couldn't resist a final question. "How did you and Ross meet? Please tell me it wasn't as cliche as you busting him while you were in Vice."
Lips twisting as if fighting the urge to smirk, Jim said, "Friend of the family."
Coming to a dead stop, Blair said, "Your father knows a man who owns a restaurant that caters to the BDSM community."
Jim nudged him back into motion. "Ross doesn't just own Medina's; he has three or four bars and diners, too. And yes, my father knew him before Ross' family disowned him for refusing to be in the closet. Back when it was just a couple of bars, one of his regulars that he really liked came to him with information she'd overheard while taking care of a john - information she didn't want to keep secret but didn't think anyone official would listen to because of her profession and specialty in it. Ross brought it to me."
They reached the truck, and Jim unlocked the passenger side for Blair before walking around to the drivers. It gave Blair a chance to digest the information Jim had shared, and he shuffled through several questions before deciding on what he had to know, first. As soon as the truck was in motion, he asked, "How long has he been coming on you?"
"Since I was legal," Jim answered calmly. "In answer to your next question, I don't have a problem with that life style, but I've never tried it because it's just close enough to what I need that it was salt on a wound. You ever go for any of it?"
With a shrug, Blair admitted, "Messed around with bits and pieces of it, like the spanking I told you about. Nobody was into that, so I never really went there."
"So if I wanted to use, say bondage for instance, you'd do it?"
"Of course, because you want to, and probably enjoy it as long as you really got into it."
Jim nodded, as if fitting Blair's confession into some mental puzzle he was putting together, then changed the subject to the note Ross had slipped him. For the rest of the day he was quieter than usual; deeply pensive in a way Blair seldom saw in him. It didn't stop him from occasionally reminding Blair of the chains, or the new earring, which was why Blair wasn't especially surprised when Jim detoured on the way home to the 'strip' where most of the legal x-rated action went on in Cascade.
The shop they parked a judicious distance from had a reputation that even the average citizen had heard, and Blair had stopped in for fun on several occasions. As spacious and well-lit as a department store, N'awlins had a semi-carnivale ambiance and playful raunchiness about it that was a welcome change from the furtive, shameful atmosphere at most porn stores. The customers were as open and above board, most obviously there as much for the people as for the merchandise. In fact, if memory served, Blair had friends who had been together for years - and had met at N'awlins.
Tempted to ask Jim what was up with him, Blair slanted a glance up at his partner as they approached the turnstile and killed the impulse. Jim was clearly in lockdown. His jaw muscle was throbbing madly and his expression was a blank as only a warrior's could be. Cupping an elbow, Blair stepped to one side, taking Jim with him, and waited, letting his own face speak of his worry and confusion.
"Scent," Jim said quietly. "Hormones, pheromones making the stale sex of it sharper and harder to ignore."
"You didn't have problems at the restaurant," Blair half-pointed out, choosing his words carefully.
"Most of that was appearance only, and what was real was diluted by social necessities or covered by food odors." Jim rubbed at his eyes with two fingers. "It was worse the last time I tried to shop in person, which is why I've been making my purchases online - like your chains. At least the prevalent smell here is mellow, not desperate. And before you ask, I thought your fragrance would mask the worst of it."
Hesitantly, Blair said, "I could run in and get whatever it was you were planning on picking up."
"I don't know." Jim looked through the front window, the one-way glass not a barrier for him. "It's as personal as that second piercing we did on you."
Leaning into him slightly, Blair thought for a moment. "Dialing down obviously isn't working; maybe acclimatizing yourself would do the trick? Standing downwind and getting a hit from it once in a while when the doors open?"
"Or a stronger scent on you," Jim said reflectively. "Right now you're more happy and content than randy. Would looking through the stock in there work you up? Not to 'fuck me right now?' but to 'how soon can we get naked?'"
"Oh, yeah," Blair admitted. "Though a few minutes spent speculating on what you're planning on buying would rev me up, I bet."
Some of Jim's tension melted, and he smiled wanly. "Tell you what… You go in, do a little browsing, then come back out here. Between what's escaping through the cracks and what you'll be carrying on you, the acclimatizing thing might work. Or the cover up might. If not, well, I can wait until FedEx delivers, much as I was hoping to do this tonight."
"Wheedling for more information won't get me anywhere, will it?" Though his tone was a mix of fake whining and teasing, Blair was beginning to like the idea of shopping with Jim. He wasn't sure why, except that it felt like an opportunity to work Jim up to a serious pounding later, not that Jim didn't already have that in mind. Still, adding a bit more spice to whatever he had planned couldn't hurt, and Blair left him with a last squeeze to his arm in reassurance.
Once inside he took a moment to orient himself before deciding what path to take, drifting down aisles, randomly looking things over. The silly novelty items were at the front - the sort of things that turned up for laughs at bridal showers and bachelor parties. There were candies and cakes with obscene shapes, greeting cards featuring naked people and laden with sexual innuendo, and amazing assortment of playthings and games designed to get very adult laughs. He wound up a miniature penis that had tiny feet to walk around on and snickered evilly when it staggered toward the wind-up boobs.
Reflecting that the intention behind the placement of the products was to relax the more skittish customers and remind them that sex could be fun, Blair moved toward the right hand side of the store where the clothing racks were. Some of it was costume stuff for role-playing. He ran a fingertip over a French maid's apron, wondering where the stereotype came from. Some of the clothes were sexy, some were slutty, some were fetish, and all of it came in a wide range of sizes. Blair held up a ruffled blouse with a small tie at the neck and decided that it was either for a woman with very wide shoulders and small breasts or for a man.
"That one doesn't suit you at all, if I may say so." A tall blonde man dressed as a very convincing woman in a three piece power suit of bright red and three inch heels took the blouse away from Blair and produced a simple high-necked shirt with a touch of lace at the collar and cuff. "The innocent school-marm look would do wonders for you."
"Really?" Blair asked, delighted. "What makes you say so?"
S/he looked Blair up and down, plainly pleased with s/he saw. "Curls tied back, glasses, flannel - just like in all those old movies where the plain jane takes off her glasses, lets down her hair, and the hero realizes what a beauty was hiding under his nose all that time. Oh, what I could do with you, honey. I'm Missy, by the way."
"Blair. And I'm taken, sorry."
"Pity." S/he sighed. "I'd still love to dress you, if you think your other might enjoy the end results. Or if you think you would."
"Truthfully, I haven't talked to him about it." Blair took the shirt and held it up against himself, checking out the results in a mirror. "Hmmm. Can't see it myself, but I'll have to ask."
Leaning against the mirror frame, Missy said, "Mind if I get a shade personal? You're awfully, ah, comfortable with the idea of crossing. That's unusual, even for a gay man."
"Oh, a while back I dated someone who was undergoing a gender identity crisis. Talking her through it helped me find my footing with it." Smiling fondly, Blair put back the clothes. "She couldn't decide if she was a transvestite or a transsexual. She once said she was too fond of men for one and too fond of women for the other. I left town for a while and when I got back, she'd left herself, so I never found out what her final choice was."
"Really?" Missy looked him over again, chewed a knuckle and inched closer. "Are you sure you wouldn't mind a trip down memory lane with me as a stand in for her? We could go find your man and go for a threesome with you in the middle. If he's special enough to win you, I'm sure I'll like him, too."
While the idea held some appeal, Blair had no trouble shaking his head, apologetic smile in place. "No, he wouldn't share, and I'm not willing to, either. You're very, very beautiful and if I'd met you a year ago, I would have been on my knees begging for whatever you'd be willing to give. I *am* sorry."
"Don't be." S/he brushed at her clothes, twitching at them as if to perfect the drape and fit, and summoned a realistic smile. "The good ones are always taken, damnit. I work here if it ever happens that you find yourself free again." S/he exited with her head high, swaying gracefully on her heels, and joined a young woman puzzling over the locks on a pair of stilettos.
Blair respected her style, shook his head again, and wandered away from Fashion and into Body Accessories. He admired the jewelry, especially for various piercings, considered yet again if he should ask Jim about getting his belly button done, examined several temporary tattoos, then moved into 'marital aids.' After checking the ingredients on the edible body paint and lube, he regretfully shelved that idea and juggled a canister of Kuma Sutra honey dust before putting it back with the intention of coming back for it if Jim okayed it.
The next section was the books and videos, and he detoured around it, knowing full well that once he went in, he's stay until Jim came and dragged him out. Porn wasn't exactly a vice for him, but he did have a sneaking weakness for it when it was well done. Snorting at the idea of being a literary and film critic for x-rate materials, he paused at the lane between the media shelves and the sex toys. N'awlins boasted that they had the largest selection of sex toys on the western seaboard, and Blair was willing to take their word on it, given how many he could see from where he was.
Jim materialized at his elbow, the faint lines around his mouth telling Blair that he was in pain, but not too much. "I want to get a butt plug for you. Not too big; more a reminder and tease than to keep you opened."
Swaying from a burst of need born from both the words and Jim's mere presence beside him, Blair put out a hand to steady himself on Jim's broad chest. "Okay, I can get into that. Lead on."
After giving him a sharp look that was probably backed by all his senses, Jim covered Blair's hand with his own for a moment, then meandered down the closest aisle.
Blair had always found it amusing that there was such a wide variety of objects people were willing to pay for to put in their body for the purpose of pleasure. Not that he was adverse to using them if that was what a lover had an appetite for, but it always took him a second to get in the right frame of mind. Yet as Jim examined various items, usually dismissing them quickly, but occasionally picking up a sample and stroking it with a judging fingertip, Blair had to bite his lips to keep from moaning. Grateful he was in a place where sporting serious wood wasn't a faux pas, he pretended absorption in the package in his hand, not really noticing that it was glow-in-the-dark condoms.
Of course Jim knew perfectly well what state Blair was in, and he sent one or two puzzled looks Blair's way as he'd heard Blair voice his attitude on toys before. It didn't stop him from taking advantage of Blair's arousal. He chose several potential purchases and gave them to Blair, asking for an opinion on which would be better.
"Ah, I guess that depends on the ultimate goal," Blair blurbled, unable to stop himself from petting one as if it were the real thing and Jim's at that. "Sidebar to the main event? To tired for more than a slam, bam, but need it anyway? Hungry as hell and need the first one as fast as possible?"
Jim leaned in so that he could whisper directly into Blair's ear, not incidentally scrubbing his lightly whiskered jaw over the vulnerable skin of Blair's neck, in reminder of the love bites Blair adored. "Like I said, a slender one for long term, but I'm thinking a nice, thick vibrator with a slow pulse to imitate steady fucking would be good, too."
"Oh. Oh!" Blair panted, a dangerous throb in his dick warning him that he was too close to coming.
With a forefinger under Blair's chin, Jim lifted his head and met his eyes. "No." The stern tone was enough to cool Blair, but apparently not to Jim's satisfaction. "If you cream in your pants, I'll put my badge on my belt, handcuff you, and hold your arms behind you so that the wet spot and those tight nipples are plain for everyone to see, and drag you out of here like a perv caught in the act."
Face heating, Blair's need died to tolerable levels, despite being fairly sure that Jim was only threatening him to get that exact result. He took a deep breath and said steadily, "This one for long term, this one for serious action."
"Good, very good,"
Killing a flash of anger - after all, his condition was Jim's doing - Blair put away the others as Jim took custody of the ones he'd chosen. "Anything else you want to pick up?"
"No, but there's something I want to check out in person. I've seen them for sale online, but the pictures can't provide enough detail for an informed decision."
Jim turned toward the part of the store where the bondage gear and apparel were sold, and Blair followed him, both startled and dismayed. It *had* been just a threat, right? While Blair had offered to let Jim tie his hands, and Jim had used restraints on him once or twice, Jim wouldn't get into bondage seriously without first discussing it with him, would he? Or would Jim think decisions of that nature fell under the heading of his ownership of Blair's sexuality?
And would he cooperate if that was the case?
Thankfully, while Jim did pause once or twice to study the workmanship of a few handmade items, he steadily made his way to the back and put his selection on the counter at the checkout. "These, and I'd like to rent one of your privacy rooms for one hour. The one set up with the 'threesome bench,' please."
Without a blink the woman behind the register rang up the purchase, reciting quickly and obviously by rote, "The privacy rooms may or may not be under police surveillance to prevent them from being used for purposes of prostitution, non consensual activities and participation of minors. Video surveillance is used in the corridor immediately outside the room for security purposes, tapes kept for twenty four hours before being over written. We guarantee that all demo items and furniture are sanitary and safe for common usage. Are you still interested in using this service, sir?"
Handing over his card, Jim said, "Yes."
She read off the total, gave him the slip to sign, then a key. "One hour, time beginning when the key is inserted. A chime will sound once in warning two minutes before time expires, then twice as the door opens automatically. 3E."
"Thank you."
Keeping his silence throughout the exchange took a massive act of will, but Jim's sweet, happy smile at him when they headed down the hallway made it worthwhile. Jim looped his arm around Blair's waist and hugged him close as they walked. "We don’t have to do more than a visual check if you're not up for it, but I like the idea of this."
"Threesome bench?" Blair's hardon had subsided from the crazy dips and turn of emotion in the past few minutes, but it perked up considerably at the image the name produced. "Is that what it sounds like? A way to imitate a third person for a couple?"
"I know you've always wanted to be taken in the ass and mouth at the same time, and while it's not going to be the same as with a real person, this might be close enough to enjoy." Opening the door to a small room with only a single lamp and chair in it, Jim ushered Blair inside, frowning at what he saw. "This doesn't look right." He listened for a second, then bent to study a section of the wall that had a small sliding panel in it. "This is a peeper room."
"What?"
"Some people like to be watched, and there's a room next door for them to put on their little show," Jim said absently, double-checking his key and receipt. "If you like to watch, you come in here, but the store's not supposed to charge for either room. Too close to prostitution, and the powers that be barely tolerate the practice as is. Wait here. I'm going to complain."
Before Blair could protest that he'd rather go with him - and that he knew the peeper's room existed, was just surprised they were in it - Jim was gone. With nothing else to do, he sat down to wait, hands under his thighs to make sure he didn't rub at the persistent ache his dick had become. He heard giggles, female and slightly hyper sounding, on the other side of the wall and realized two women were having sex next door. For a moment he argued with his conscience. If they were in the room beside this one, they were expecting to be watched. On the other hand, he was in here by mistake and they might be in there by mistake as well. On a hand he didn’t have but wished for, he wasn't sure what Jim would think if he satisfied his curiosity and peeked. On yet another missing hand, he was only human and this was the real thing, not a porn movie.
Various arguments pro and con chased around in his head until Jim came back in waving a piece of paper. "Computer glitch due to a rearranging of merchandise done last week. Come on."
All but leaping to his feet, Blair cast a last longing look at the peep window but readily followed Jim out.
Catching him, Jim asked in an utterly neutral tone, "Want to stay and enjoy the show?"
"What healthy bi-male in his right mind *wouldn't* want to?" Blair asked with bland good cheer. "No one was in the mood for a little exhibitionism the few times I was here before."
He reclaimed his place along Jim's side, blatantly rubbing against him. "But I'd much rather go along with what you had in mind. Now, which room are we supposed to be in?"
Coming to a complete stop, Jim turned so that they were facing each other, an inscrutable mask in place that hid his true reaction well enough that Blair couldn't tell exactly what he could see flickering under it. Guessing that the major reason for his lockdown was a sensory barrage, he waited for a clue as to what Jim needed him to do. All Jim did, though, was curl the fingers of one hand around the back of Blair's neck in what was apparently becoming a standard show of possession and tug him close for a kiss.
It was unexpectedly gentle and loving, pulling a sigh of contentment from Blair as he returned it. Jim nudged him backwards, guiding him toward their room, lips and tongue becoming more demanding. Blair gave himself over to passion, trusting Jim to take care of necessities. Dimly aware of crossing a threshold into a warmer, darker place, he clung to Jim's upper arms, hoping to be allowed to do more than passively receive.
From the rigid control Blair felt in him, he didn't think it was likely, which made sense given where they were, he supposed. In fact, Jim didn't even seem willing to do more than the minimum to achieve his goal. He unbuttoned and pushed fabric away until Blair's chest was exposed from throat to navel; undid his pants but left them hanging precariously on Blair's hips as he kneaded Blair's ass cheeks before delving between them.
After a cursory check of Blair's readiness, Jim stepped back and urged him to turn around. "That's the bench there. The dildo…" He paused long enough to unwrap the larger of the two he'd bought and lean past Blair. "Goes there."
The base of the toy fit into an opening clearly designed to adapt to and hold any number of different kinds of toys. Below it was a very authentic looking scrotum, and the cushions around it looked remarkably like a man's thighs and lower belly. Petting a 'flank' tentatively, Blair decided it was smoother than a real person, but more solid. Where the knees on the pseudo male belonged there was a short bench, with a gap between it and where a real person would kneel.
Absorbed by his examination, he jumped when Jim smoothed cool gel into his opening, then relaxed into the brisk fingering. "I don't need much," Blair admitted huskily.
"Plastic isn't as giving as flesh." Jim ghosted a touch over Blair's front, barely disturbing the chains. "You still okay with these?"
Blair arched his back to show off his jewelry and Jim's breath caught. "Can't wait to feel them dangle."
"Damn. This is *such* a good look for you. Hands and knees, now, before I waste money but taking you myself."
Getting into position was awkward and strange, and Blair had to wonder if he would have been able to accomplish it if he hadn't been on the verge of going off. Jim made adjustments to the bench so the height was better, then directed Blair to scoot back to impale himself on the toy. It felt odd, though Blair had had dildos in him before, and he wasn't sure there was anything about it he'd like on a regular basis.
Then Jim grabbed his hair at the back of his head, pulled it back, and shoved his cock into Blair's mouth. Too practiced at servicing him that way to so much as gag, Bair went with his thrusts, moving backwards as Jim advanced so that he was penetrated at both ends. It took a few strokes to get a good rhythm going, and by then Blair had no complaints about the fake dick at all.
He didn't have enough brain cells online to worry about it or much of anything besides whether or not Jim was going to let him climax. The chains dragged and swung over the bench, tweaking and pulling at his tits and balls, and his ass had learned to like how hard the plastic was. He peered up Jim's body to see his reaction, thrilling at the fact he was still fully dressed with just his hardon out for Blair to take care of. His expression was neutral, but his eyes were flaming with lust, all of it aimed at Blair.
Picking up speed, Jim growled, "This is good, too. Very good. A cross between debauched angel and needy slut." Relaxing his grip on Blair's curls, he stroked along Blair's throat, palm curled possessively around it. "Come for me. Now."
Groaning, Blair did as told, body responding before the rest of him could process the demand. He spilled in long, nearly painful spurts, rocking himself relentlessly as he did to prolong the ecstasy. For a few seconds he lost track of everything but the surge of release and the causes of it, then Jim pulled away from him, hands gently supportive while Blair's head cleared.
Though he hadn't gone off, Jim helped Blair shift until he was free of the toy, and with a murmur of forewarning, inserted the butt plug, ordering him to tighten around it. Arm around him, he had Blair sit on the bench and quickly tidied him up, pulling his clothes together. Just as efficiently he cleaned and put the evidence of their activities in their shopping bag.
That done, he inspected the bench and said conversationally, as if Blair wasn't still panting and half out of it from a mind-blowing climax, "This is set up to look like a gentleman's valet stand when not in use, if the owner doesn't want his preferences on display. See, panels lock into place here and here to hide the fake torso."
"Expensive?" Blair managed, the word fairly clear.
"A bit. It'd have to be a Christmas present to each other." Jim sat beside him and dropped an arm over Blair's shoulders. "You interested?"
"Ask me when I’m not riding an endorphin high, man." Blair took a deep breath and leaned into him. "That was pretty intense, but not in the same way as when you're really into hammering away at me."
"I'll have to think about it, myself. I'm not sure it'd be something I'd want to do on a regular basis, which would make the cost less reasonable."
"Hey, if you like seeing me skewered like that, we might be able to improvise something on our own." Blair stood as Jim did, relieved his legs were willing to hold him.
Rubbing his thumb over one of Blair's nipples, Jim said reflectively, "There's a model that has hooks to attach chains to. I wonder how you'd react to having these pulled every time I pumped into you."
The lassitude that had been seeping in to replace the high of his release evaporated under the touch, the tone, the suggestion. Helplessly revving up again, though to nowhere near the heights he'd been earlier, Blair caught Jim's thumb and nipped at the ball of it. "Wonder what it'd be like to reverse it? Dildo gag while you fucked me?"
"That's a thought." Jim stretched, showing off the impressive bulge tenting the front of his slacks. "We'll have to talk about it later. You have any idea what you want to do for dinner?"
In other words, Blair translated, Jim wants us to cool down so we can work our way back up, so it's time to talk about other stuff. Unwillingly he took up the conversational gambit while they walked out of the store as if they had just purchased a bottle of wine or a package of socks.
On the way back home they tossed various food options around, seriously stymied by the scarcity of provisions and the recent lack of time to remedy it. Finally, Jim suggested he buy the night's meal while Blair picked up a few staples to last them until they could shop for a full supply of groceries. They decided on Thai from the place around the corner from the loft, and Blair hopped out of Jim's truck and into his car. Stopping for a brief kiss, Jim went upstairs to call in the order and take of a few other necessary chores until the food could be delivered, or so he said.
Blair waved to him, resisting the yen to pull over and suggest that food wasn't what either of them really had a hunger for right now. He forced himself to mentally compose a shopping list, but after he'd added 'blowjob' one time too many, Blair gave up and went on impulse, which usually worked out fairly well. Once done, he drove back too fast and ran up the stairs rather than wait on the elevator, need rising with each step, driven by the unceasing stimulation of the most sensitive parts of his body and the promise of Jim adding to it.
To his astonishment, the loft was quiet and dark, and for a second Blair was bleakly disappointed, positive that Jim had been called to in for a case. Stalking over to the kitchen island, he grumpily put away the perishables, but as he worked, he realized something was out of place. Leaving the rest of the food, he slowly walked into the main room and saw one of the kitchen chairs in the middle of it, a pair of sweats, a note, and a video tape on the seat.
Air suddenly scarce and hard to pull into his lungs, Blair picked up the note and read it. It gave a location, time, and succinctly stated threat that copies of the tape would be distributed to everyone in Blair's address book if he didn't show. His knees buckled and he collapsed to the floor, shaking as if he were about to fall into pieces. Putting the card aside, he reached for the tape, already certain of the contents. It would show him on his hands and knees, taking a man in the ass and another in the mouth, and he would bet everything that the tape would be too grainy to show that one of his 'partners' was only padding and plastic.
It was his fantasy brought to life. The one he'd never told anybody about but Jim, with a few considerate touches added that made room for reality, like enough time to shower and prepare himself before he left, along with the suggestion that he wear sweats for convenience and comfort. In fact, he was wiling to be that… working on autopilot, he put down the tape, stood, and went to the fridge to find a meal waiting for him. Instead of his usual Thai preferences, the plate was filled with lighter fare that would sate his hunger without weighing down his stomach.
Not that he could eat. Blair put the dish back and since he was in motion anyway, headed for the shower. Thoughts in suspension, he went through all the necessary motions to get ready for his meeting. Even on the trip there his mind was mostly a blank, except for random flashes of doubt. It *was* Jim behind this set up, wasn't it? It had to be. Nobody else knew about it. If he *had* told someone, the coincidence of them seeing him at N'awlins and getting evidence of the encounter there was simply impossible.
The shadow that he might be wrong about the identity of his blackmailer was exciting, terrifying, and enough to make him go off like a rocket if he allowed himself to dwell on it.
With no clear memory of arriving, he knocked on the door at the address given, unable to hear it over his own heartbeat. The door silently opened, he stepped through, and was spun and thrown face first into the wall next to it as it shut. Instinct took over, and he tensed to do battle, fists clenched for the first opportunity to throw a punch. He psyche apparently had made the decision of what was going to happen if it wasn't Jim pinning him in place.
As if sensing that, his attacker groped for Blair's opening and shoved the toy in him a little deeper, proving that he knew that it was there. It was very subtle evidence of who was behind Blair, but very effective. In a dizzying one-eighty, Blair unthinkingly surrendered. Not that fighting would have made the slightest difference. The strength holding him in place was considerable, and his attacker was obviously well-versed in how to restrain a captive.
Without a word the attacker jerked down Blair's sweat pants, removed the toy with a negligent yank, and brutally penetrated him. It should have hurt. The cold, unforgiving metal along his front should have been painful on his distended cock and nipples. He should have rejected all of it violently, unrelentingly.
He loved it. Every ferocious thrust, every harsh pant in his ear, every pang of eager welcome from his own body - it was all unbelievably good, to the point he would have been begging for harder and faster if he'd had the air or brain power to do it.
As abruptly as it was started, it was done. With a bare grunt of satisfaction, the rapist finished, deliberately pulling out so that the last of his come splattered onto Blair's exposed bottom and thighs. With a contemptuous shove, Blair was back out the door, standing in the alleyway with his pants down, a hissed 'later, bitch piece, I'll let you know when,' sizzling along his spine.
If the trip there had passed in a blur, the drive back home was an endless mental replay of those few minutes in the warehouse. Ruthlessly Blair clamped down short on his recall, starting the loop again at the moment when wet heat bathed his insides. It took more effort not to relive the attack to the end as he hurried upstairs to the loft, though for the life of him he couldn't say why it was so important to get there before he lost control.
He fumbled his way through the door and froze, keys dangling precariously from his fingertips, when he saw Jim standing by the lone kitchen chair, turning the tape over and over in his hands. They stared at each other for a small eternity, then Jim slowly, deliberately put the cartridge down and crossed over to Blair. Stopping bare inches from him, Jim gave him a once over, expression blank as only Jim's could be.
With a sniff, Jim murmured, "You didn't come."
That was the absolute last thing Blair expected to hear, and he stupidly said what was on the tip of his tongue. "I didn't have permission to."
Apparently he had stumbled over the exact right thing to say. Jim slammed him into the door, on hand buried in the hair at the nape of Blair's neck, pulling Blair's head back painfully to expose his throat. Covering Blair's throat with his other hand, fingertips caressing his jaw, Jim said, "Then come for me now."
Without a sound Blair obeyed, every muscle convulsing in joy and relief. Though centered in his groin, his orgasm ripped pleasure from all of him, sweeping him up in ecstasy only to drop him into unconsciousness filled with the echoes of his release.
When he came to, he was face down on the couch, no doubt courtesy of Jim, and his ass was being mercilessly pounded, again no doubt courtesy of Jim. Humming contentedly, Blair stretched as much as he could, both to accommodate his growing hardon and to find the best angle for entry. Jim slapped playfully at his flank in silent order to be still, and Blair crossed his arms under his head to settle in for a long, hard fuck.
"About time you got back to take care of your part in this," Jim mock grumbled.
"Hey, if you hadn't sent me to lala land ahead of you, I'd already be doing my thing," Blair shot back sleepily.
"Guess I'll have to bring you back up to speed then." Jim dropped onto Blair's back, still lazily pumping into him and lifted a remote. "You watch this yet?"
All drowsiness vanished, and Blair reflexively tensed, earning a pleased noise from Jim. "No. I guess it didn't seem important since I already knew the contents."
"Huh." Jim nosed behind Blair's ear before latching onto his neck for a long, sucking kiss.
Whimpering, Blair shuddered under the exquisite torment, opening his eyes with difficulty when he heard the raw sounds of sex coming from the television. It didn't seem possible that the man hungrily gobbling the long, thick cock was him; that the body writhing on the other dick was his. It was beyond any doubt the most erotic sight of his life, and he shoved his fist into his mouth to remind himself of how it felt to be filled at both ends.
"Oh, yeah," Jim murmured, nibbling his way to Blair's other shoulder to mark it.
Blair froze. Despite the renewed passion, despite the incredible physical input, his brain engaged, working furiously. That was *not* the happy cry of a man deep into getting his rocks off. *That* was Detective Ellison figuring something out to his satisfaction, which, in Blair's personal opinion, was a close second to sex for Jim. He twisted to look at Jim, who willingly shifted so they could be nose to nose, smiling knowingly as the pieces fell into place for Blair as well.
"You've been trying to find my buttons, my kinks, all day long, haven't you?" he said, not quite accusingly. "Near public places, voyeurism, exhibitionism, bdsm, humiliation, trannies - it's been one long setup. Did you hire Missy to come onto me?"
"No, just told her you needed her assistance and watched nature take its course." Jim wasn't the least perturbed at being caught, and went back to nipping and licking a line along Blair's arm.
"You were using your senses to see what really trips my trigger? Of course you were." For a moment Blair warred with himself, then unwillingly asked, "Well, what did it? Besides the fantasy we already knew would work for me."
"Which didn't until you were sure it was me," Jim pointed out absently. "In fact, none of it worked unless I was part of the equation, and then only as much as it did for me. Remember how you reacted to the aisles with all the toys - which you usually can't look at without thinking about how silly male anatomy really is."
"I…" Blair reviewed it all, slowly nodding, surprised at the disappointment. "So, no kinks? I'm just bland, blah, nada until you spin me up?"
Pulling away to cup his face, Jim said, "No your kink *is* your lover. How many times have you said to me that you did this or that for someone, enjoying how much they got out of it? It's as if all that matters to you is your partner's needs. Not a blank slate, Beautiful, but a full one, waiting only for the selection to be made."
Jim looked a trifle anxious, as if he were worried Blair wouldn't understand, but Blair did. Maybe more than Jim did himself, as yet. "What you're saying is that I really am the perfect fit for you; designed by nature or whatever to willingly and happily meet your specific needs."
"And maybe that's what *you* need most of all," Jim offered tentatively. "I'm not ashamed to admit I love the idea."
Trailing a finger over Jim's nose, chin, and sternum, Blair nodded. "Scary as it is, so do I. Like I'm completely, totally yours and always have been. All I've done up 'til now was just practice, because I've been waiting for your touch to find the real thing. 'Cause, I have to tell you, man, you've always done more to me with a kiss than anybody else ever did with a full bore, all night, fucking marathon."
Rumbling deep in his chest, Jim withdrew in slow motion, then rammed full length into Blair, gasping at the entry. "What you're saying is that when I was worried about holding onto you too tightly, I should have been leaving bruises from hanging on with all I had, because that's what we *both* need."
"God, yes! Again, please, again!"
Jim did, muttering, "Damn right, again. We haven't gotten anywhere close to getting through my list of things to do to you."
"OH, God!" And Blair had no clue if his cry was from the pole shoved in so deep he could almost taste it, or the words accompanying the thrust. Not that it mattered, a part of him babbled happily. It was all good, after all.
finis