Blair checked his watch, went back to reading his book, and then checked again. Was this the same clock that had been spinning forward his entire life, caring nothing for his dismay over the rapidly passing seconds? Now it crawled forth with hateful sluggishness, and Blair could hardly sit still.
He wasn't sure what made these nights so exciting to him other than his powerful curiosity about anything involving Jim Ellison. He always watched Jim head out to his monthly night out with his old Army buddies with a sense of distant fascination, then found himself with a hard-on all evening that wouldn't quit until he took care of it.
Some of his most earth-moving masturbatory feats had been achieved those nights that Jim went out. Blair's mind would be filled with fresh images of buff, well-dressed ex-soldiers, and the way that at least one of them always found a reason to slap Jim on the ass during the few moments at the loft before they left. He'd wondered, as an Anthropologist, why Jim seemed to be so physically demonstrative with this particular group of men and not, say, Simon or Joel or even Rafe. Maybe it had to do with the close living quarters that soldiers sometimes shared. Blair would consider this right up until the point he realized that he was pondering this topic less like an anthropologist and more like a guy in bed with his cock in his hand.
Which was really a little pathetic, so as usual, with respectable amounts of guilt and anticipation, he arrived at the bar to pick up Jim and fulfill his regular duty as designated driver.
The bar was a dive, built on the outskirts of Cascade; he had no idea why they insisted on having their gatherings here. He was a bit early, but sitting in the parking lot was not conducive to feeling safe. Several shady looking characters milled around the cars, testing locks and tapping on windows, so he pulled the keys from the ignition and hurried inside where, at least, there would be witnesses for when he was robbed or murdered.
Now, however, standing in the smoky, dark room, he questioned his decision to arrange the collision of fantasy and reality, because once his eyes adjusted to the dark, Blair found Jim in the middle of a shouting, cheering crowd of drunken ex-soldiers. Elbow propped up on a small table, fist joined with another man's, Jim's muscular arm strained against the efforts of his opponent.
Blair stopped to watch from a distance. Holy shit. Fantasy, meet reality.
Jim began to gain the upper hand by inches, and Blair watched, mesmerized by the hard curves of perfect biceps and thick, solid forearms. The sheen of sweat that covered his Sentinel's expression of intense concentration had been imported straight from said fantasies, and Blair couldn't tear his eyes away.
The win came with a flurry of sound and movement, Jim's final push inciting drunken roars of approval and disgust. Flexing his damp fingers, he extended a hand to the loser in an act of good sportsmanship before grinning and stretching overworked, overheated arms above his head. Blair could read his friend's posture even from halfway across the room- the feral grin, the legs splayed open... utter confidence and satisfaction.
Another contender made his way to the table, or rather was pushed there by his friends for a vicarious probable victory, and Jim gave the man a slow, easy smile that showed lots of teeth and even more attitude.
Blair swallowed past his own stunned arousal and shifted, tugging on the fly of his jeans. Jim didn't let loose like this very often; he usually went around with such a carefully constructed cool that people could forget he had a wild side. But here it was, peeking through exactly like Blair had always imagined it. Oh, he'd had a few glimpses here and there, but usually the wildness was triggered by grief or violence... not pleasure.
And it was obvious that Jim was, at the moment, experiencing pleasure. His energy practically glowed, and even if Blair hadn't believed in auras before, the vision of Jim thrumming with such raw power would've convinced him. This guy was barely a challenge, and he went down within twenty seconds, a hollow triumph for Jim, who nodded politely then dismissed him, scanning the crowd for a new, better opponent.
While waiting, he took a swig from the long-necked bottle of beer, and Blair saw him wipe the cool condensation from his hand onto the back of his neck. They shivered simultaneously.
His hand ached sharply, and Blair realized that he'd been clutching his keys in a death-grip, so he loosened his hold and shifted again, letting his weight rest against the bar.
And that was when Jim spotted him.
Blair waved with the hand that wasn't strategically placed in front of his crotch, and watched Jim stand, stretch lithely and saunter over to the bar.
"I'm a little early," he said absently, looking everywhere but Jim. "Go ahead and finish whatever you're doing." As if he hadn't been staring like some kind of obsessed groupie.
"I'm not doing anything." Jim shrugged easily but held Blair under close scrutiny. "Do you wanna hang out a while, or are you in a hurry?"
"I..." Thankfully, a burly, inebriated man had seated himself at the small table and was now pounding his fist on the surface, demanding a turn. A crowd gathered once again, begging for Jim, who laughed, almost embarrassed.
"Go on, man, they love you." Blair grinned back with genuine admiration. He'd never arm wrestled, what was the point? Besides, the kind of men who engaged in barbaric, empty shows of arrogance like this were obviously lacking in some other area. Right?
Now he was forced to rethink that broad assumption because, somehow, Jim approached the sport with a pure enjoyment of physical competition. Not to mention the excitement in the room rising to fever pitch, augmented with shouting, hooting men with no stake in the outcome other than a desire to see some action.
It was close. Jim's opponent was clearly larger, but not quite so fit. Soft spots hung on his stomach, chest and upper arms, but he continued to hold his own. Bright patches of color broke out on his cheeks. Blair stepped forward.
Jim stared into his rival's eyes with a clear message of danger, and Blair let out a soft gasp when Jim gritted his teeth and growled, low and gravelly. The sound and its possibilities went straight to his cock. He turned away because this wasn't the time. It was never the time.
He shouldn't be watching this, not with his fantasies floating around in his mind, wrapping themselves up in these incredibly fortuitous bits of reality that he never should've been witness to. Jim would be by his side in a matter of minutes, and would want to know what had Blair all wound up. A quick glance around would tell his partner that there weren't any females in sight, and if Jim weren't too drunk, that might lead to questions. Inhaling deeply and trying to banish the heat in his face, Blair retreated, past the bar and out the front door.
As the breath of the cool night air hit his face, a roar went up from inside; there was a winner. Blair slid his hand into his pocket, nudging his half-hard dick. God, it felt good. After what he'd just seen, his body was anxious to put a physical touch to the erotic images.
"You can't have him," he muttered, half to his penis, half to himself.
After a few minutes had passed out in the solitude of night, the situation seemed less urgent; laughable even. The only evidence of his temporary insanity were the grooves of his keys imprinted onto his hand.
"Ready to go, Chief." Jim's cocky swagger indicated a win rather than a loss. He slapped an arm around Blair- definitely well past buzzed- and pulled Blair close to his side. His body emanated a humid heat that defied the cool outdoor air, and Blair felt like he would never forget the way that Jim was all sweat and fire in his victory.
"Looks like you kicked some serious ass in there, man. Next time let me know in advance so I can put some money on you, make a little easy cash, you know?" Rambling was a given when he felt like this: Off-kilter, overeager and off his game.
"That's a good way to lose your savings, Sandburg."
"Sounds like the voice of experience." Blair helped Jim into the cab of the truck, which he brushed off.
"Yeah... I learned there's no such thing as a sure thing."
Jim's good humor was contagious, and Blair grinned. "Lose the shirt off your back?"
"No, but once I misjudged a sure thing and found someone had lifted my wallet,"
Jim said.
"Damn. And you didn't have anything to pay up with?"
Jim gave Blair a small, uneasy smile. "Nothing but my ass."
It took a moment for the words to register.
"Nothing but your..." Blair's head spun around so fast, Jim couldn't stop the slow smile that spread across his face.
"Watch the road, Chief," Jim said, listening to Blair's heart pound.
The rest of the ride home was silent. Jim slouched down in the seat and leaned his head back, letting his legs fall open, tightening the denim across his prominent package.
Blair tried to keep both eyes on the road, but between Jim's out coming (or was that coming out?) and the temptation to look at Jim's splayed form, he was sweating in certain places and getting very hard in others. With one eye on the road and the other on Jim's crotch, which Blair swore was getting bigger with every breath, Blair got them to the loft and parked safely.
Turning off the engine, Blair held the keys tightly, feeling the metal dig into his hands as he looked at Jim. Taking a deep breath, Blair reached out and laid an unsteady hand on Jim's shoulder.
"Jim? We're home." His voice was scarcely a whisper.
Jim turned his head a bit in Blair's direction and slowly licked his lips.
Holy shit! Blair thought, grabbing the door handle and getting the hell out of the truck. Leaning against the cool metal, Blair leaned his head back, closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Unbidden came images of Jim on his knees, paying up on a not so sure thing. Blair tried to focus his thoughts away from that image, but the fantasy evolved. An image of Jim's muscular back... masculine hands cupping Jim's ass cheeks... spreading Jim wide... a reflection in the mirror... dark curly hair... Blair... his hands, his cock... him inside Jim.
Blair's eyes slammed open, and he searched for something to make him forget, but the images were there, so very clear in his mind. Oh, god, Jim. Why did you have to tell me that? I'll never be able to let it go!
Refocusing himself and readjusting his confined erection, Blair knew that tonight was going to take every bit of his willpower. Yet even with Jim's declaration, Blair wouldn't make any move on his friend while Jim's judgment was impaired. And once Jim passes out upstairs, I'm gonna jerk off until my dick drops dead!
Walking around to Jim's side of the truck, Blair took deep breaths. I can do this.
Carefully opening the door, Blair shook Jim's arm, saying loudly, "Come on, Jim. We're home."
Stirring, Jim looked at Blair with bleary eyes. Jim nodded his understanding and then slid out of the truck and into Blair's arms.
"Whoa!" Blair said, his arms automatically going around Jim which brought their crotches into contact, making Blair hiss in pained pleasure.
"Huh? What?" Jim asked, squinting as he looked around. "Home, right."
They slowly made their way across the street, Jim leaning heavily on Blair. Luck was with them, the elevator was working and on the bottom floor, so Blair eased Jim in, leaning him up against the wall and bracing Jim with his hip while Blair punched the button for the third floor.
Jim roused some as the elevator began its slow assent, and Blair quickly found out that an inebriated Jim was a horny Jim.
Turning slightly, Jim's crotch came into contact with Blair's hip, and Jim rubbed sensuously against it, saying, "You're a good friend, Chief."
Shocked and turned on, Blair tried to ease away, but Jim followed, pinning Blair against the opposite side of the elevator car.
"You're a very good friend, Chief," Jim said huskily. "Mmm... and we can be even better friends." Jim ran his hand down Blair's arm, his touch light, teasing, stoking the fire already burning in the pit of Blair's stomach.
"Jim, you don't want to do this," Blair tried to be rational.
Nodding, Jim's eyes were unnaturally bright. "Uh-huh. I do."
Thankfully, the elevator came to a stop on their floor, and the opening of the doors distracted Jim enough that Blair slipped out of his grasp and headed for the door. Blair heard Jim behind him and his hands shook as he tried to unlock the door; he had to get away from Jim's wandering hands, or he was going to lose his mind and his willpower.
Getting the door unlocked, Blair slipped inside feeling a ghost of heat that, a heartbeat later, would have been Jim's hand on his shoulder. Blair waited until Jim was safely inside the loft, and then closed and locked the door behind them.
Without turning, Blair said, "I'm going to bed."
"Aw, Chief, not yet. Have a drink with me," Jim said, grabbing Blair's arm and guiding him to the couch.
Warily agreeable, Blair sat and watched Jim walk a little less gracefully than usual to the fridge.
"Are you sure you should have another drink?" Blair asked.
"Not only should I have another drink," Jim said, grabbing two beers and flipping the lids off, "but I think you should kiss me."
"What?!" Blair's voice squeaked.
"Yup! Give me a kiss, Sandburg, and I'll give you this beer."
Shaking his head, Blair stood, "You're drunk, Jim, and I'm going to bed."
"Chicken!" Jim challenged.
"Of what?" Blair scoffed. "Of kissing you?"
Taking a long pull from one of the open beers in his hands, Jim nodded. "It's not like you don't want to."
Blair gasped softly. He thought he had been so careful. Blair dropped back down onto the couch.
"That's not all you want, is it, Chief?" Jim's voice lowered, the words a hot whisper to Blair, making his cock jump.
"You want to touch me, don't you? You want to feel the heat of my skin pressed against yours."
Blair felt the weight of Jim's eyes pinning him down, making him sweat as the reality of Jim's words washed over him. Yes, yes, he wanted all that. And so much more.
Jim set the two beers down on the counter and began unbuttoning his outer shirt.
"What else do you want, Chief?"
More buttons opened as Jim's hands skimmed down his chest until he was able to slide the shirt off. It hung for a moment on his heated skin, but then fell to his feet. Blair's mouth gaped open as Jim flexed his biceps, grinning widely at Blair.
"You want to feel my muscles? Feel me wrap my arms around you? Lick the sweat off my chest?"
Unconsciously, Blair's head nodded minutely, and it was enough to make Jim to continue his delicious seduction.
Jim stretched his arms above his head, bringing his chest into relief. Feeling Blair's eyes on him, Jim leaned back and felt his muscle shirt pull free from the front of his jeans, baring just a hint of his muscled stomach.
Unable to tear his eyes away from the bit of revealed flesh, Blair moaned unconsciously, his cock hardening further.
"You like watching me, don't you, Chief?" Jim said, his hand slowly sliding down his chest before slipping under the white muscle shirt.
Unhurriedly, Jim slid his hand further under the shirt, revealing more of his perfect washboard stomach to Blair's heated gaze. Running his fingers over a peaked nipple, Jim couldn't stifle the quiet moan that slipped from his lips.
Blair watched in fascination as Jim's hand moved under the thin fabric and circled the hidden nipple; he imagined his tongue doing that very same thing. The moan that escaped Jim's parted lips was almost his undoing. Blair shifted his position, spreading open his legs as his erection hardened further, but he kept his eyes on Jim, unable to look away.
Jim raised his other hand to his mouth, licking and then sucking two fingers provocatively. Breath quickening, Jim hiked his shirt up, revealing his pebbled nipples, and then slowly circled one with a damp slick finger.
Blair bit back a moan as he watched Jim's actions. His tongue snaked out and licked his dry lips, and he tried to swallow; his cock leaped in his pants, anxious to be let out to play.
Pinching a nipple roughly, Jim groaned, and his hips thrust towards Blair in arousal. Alternating the teasing pinches between his nipples, Jim's other hand continued the slow sensuous journey downward.
Eyes focused on Jim's southbound hand, Blair was only subconsciously aware of the little moan that escaped his parted lips as one of Jim's fingers dipped into his belly button. When Jim started finger fucking the shallow depression, Blair's moans came to Jim's rhythm.
A triumphant predatory smile on his face, Jim continued his erotic assault. Abandoning his reddened nipples, Jim slid his hand further down, down past the sexual penetration of his belly button, to cup his aching erection through his tight jeans. Thrusting his hips into the welcome friction of his own hand, Jim threw his head back and moaned loudly, needily. With a quick move, Jim flicked open the top button on his jeans, the zipper sliding down as his cock slipped free its confinement.
With a shudder that coursed through his whole body, Blair came, his cock pulsing and spurting his seed. And then he passed out.
***
Sometime later, feeling deliciously sated, Blair woke to find Jim kneeling between his parted knees. Blair's pants were open, and Jim was gently stroking his dick.
"How'd you know?" Blair asked, resting his hand on top of Jim's, stopping the stroking.
Jim shrugged, "I'm a Sentinel; you taught me well."
Waiting until Jim met his eyes, Blair asked softly, "Why didn't you just tell me?"
"I thought his would be more fun," Jim said with a laugh, but Blair squeezed his hand. "I didn't know anything for sure; I didn't know if it was me or guys in general."
"Are you sure now?"
"Yes."
Blair raised Jim's hand to his lips, smelling his scent, and kissed Jim's knuckles.
"I need you to be absolutely sure, Jim. I couldn't take it if you changed your mind later."
Eyes full of concern and care, Jim moved closer until their noses touched, and he softly kissed the tip of Blair's nose and then his lips.
"I won't change my mind. If you want to wait until tomorrow," Jim looked over at the clock, "well, later today, I will. If you need to hear this in the cold light of day, I'll tell you then. Again. I'll tell you every day if that's what you need to hear.
"Chief, Blair, I want you. I want to be with you. I need you." Jim smiled and kissed Blair again. "I love you."
Closing his eyes, Blair tried to keep it all inside. He wished he had the power to wrap up Jim's beautiful words of love and devotion so he could bring them out whenever he needed them.
Looking at Jim again, Blair asked, "You'll tell me tomorrow?"
"Yes."
"And the next day?"
"Every day, Chief. I'll tell you every day."
Blair nodded then, accepting Jim's words as a promise.
Looking at Jim quizzically, "You weren't drunk?"
"Not even a little bit," Jim said with a wry grin.
Nodding, Blair asked, "So, you wanna go to bed?"
"Yeah."
Standing, Jim held out a hand to Blair and helped him up. They stood close together, their pants undone, dicks hanging out. Jim smiled, looking down at their similar states of undress, but his smile faded a bit at Blair's pensive look.
"If you ever leave me or cheat on me, I will hunt you down and shoot you with your own gun," Blair said, seriously but with a hint of humor.
Understanding the intensity of Blair's words, Jim nodded solemnly.
"And I'll load it for you," Jim said, trying to ease the seriousness of the moment, but conveying the fact that he would rather hurt himself than ever hurt Blair.
Blair grinned. "Jerk."
"Schmuck."
Upstairs, they stripped quickly, anxious to be skin to skin. Touching unimpeded, one trembled, but the feeling shattered through both of them.
Slowly, they began to move against one another, their cocks touching, sliding so perfectly together that their hands were unnecessary. Instead, Jim's hands cradled Blair's face, and he watched as the depth of their union, the pleasure he was giving and receiving, washed through Blair's eyes. Their first joining couldn't last long, not with the high emotions running through their veins.
Jim felt Blair stiffen in his embrace and felt the first delicious spurt of come hit his cock, and there was no holding back; Jim's come joined and mixed with Blair's, becoming one. They slid together, drawing out the last of their gratification, after shudders rocking them both.
Moving only slightly out of Blair's embrace, Jim reached for a hanky to clean them with, already thinking about an early morning shower and other pleasurable possibilities.
Settling again in bed with Blair sheltered against his chest, he finally sighed in contentment when Blair finally said what Jim needed to hear, had always needed to hear.
"I love you, and I'll never leave you."
The words were branded on Jim's chest with the heat of Blair's kisses and in his heart with the depth of devotion. His eyes stung for a moment, but he blinked it away.
"Night, Jim," Blair said sleepily.
"Night, Chief," Jim said, feeling safe and content.
They relaxed into each other's embrace, lassitude creeping into their bones.
Jim broke the silence, grinning in the darkness as he said, "Man, I can't believe I made you come in your pants."
Wide awake, Blair began to plot revenge... delicious, satisfying revenge.
The end.
Sequel is The Reality of It
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Author's Acknowledgements: Many thanks to my co-author Lily... this started as a chat in MSN that went very wild, half the story was written that night! Thanks to Patt for the wonderful art! Thanks to Mary for the beta.