Slowly, not making any fast moves that
might freak out a wary,
generally-straight-but-considering-his-options guy, Blair moved to
kneel between Jim's knees, sitting back on his heels and unfastening
Jim's jeans.
Pulling down the zipper very slowly, he watched Jim's hands clench
on his thighs while he carefully released his erection from the
tight confines of his pants. Must be careful, Sentinel-sensitive, of
course.
He leaned forward, and Blair knew Jim was watching him, probably
every tiny shift and flex of his muscles. But when he licked the
head of Jim's cock, he knew those eyes closed and he could hear Jim
groan.
Closing his mouth over the tip, he sucked very gently and heard a
pained cry, large hands flying to his head. Fingers worked against
his scalp, longing to clench into his hair but they wouldn't, of
course they wouldn't because that wasn't Jim.
Mr. Fucking Control couldn't let that happen, could he. Couldn't
pretend he actually wanted a blowjob from his 'roommate', so Blair
pulled back, licking teasingly down the length of the shaft and
dragging another pained sound from Jim.
He knew how that felt, oh, yeah. A hot mouth wrapped around your
cock, cold air against wet flesh when that mouth let you go, and he
could only dream at what it must feel like for Jim. If a human
mouth was a furnace for him, to Jim it must be like the fires of
Hell.
But what a way to burn.
Pulling back completely, Blair looked up at Jim through the tangles
of his hair. He had let his head drop back against the sofa, eyes
closed, and his cheeks were flushed and damp. Oh, yeah, the big
fucking cop just hates this, doesn't he? He could never admit he
wanted it. That he wanted his best friend to suck him off in the
middle of the living room, with the Jags game blaring in the
background.
But that was all right. Blair didn't need him to admit anything, not
today, anyway. There was always later for that, if Jim didn't shoot
him.
Right now all he needed was for Jim to hold still.
He tilted his head back down, wrapping his hand around the base of
Jim's cock and just took it, as deeply as he could without choking.
Jim gave a strangled scream and bucked upward helplessly, and Blair
rode it out, backing off a little as he struggled not to gag. Now
this, this was what he had wanted since the moment he walked into
this sterile little loft. The salty sweet taste of come on his
tongue, the tightness in his jaw from sucking cock and a familiar
ache in his knees from kneeling too long.
He sucked hard, wanting more of that taste and he wondered briefly
how this would taste to Jim, with his senses. Would it be bitter,
stronger, saltier? Would Jim gag at the taste, would he want more?
Not that Blair ever thought he'd have the chance to find out.
Those hands finally crept into his hair,
tentatively. Ah, yes, now that was progress. Want it, don't you,
Jim, he thought, faintly delirious. Want to hold me still, want to
fuck my mouth? He slid his own hands beneath Jim's hips and urged
them to move upward.
Jim froze and for an instant Blair thought that was it, that it was
over and Jim was going to wake up from his little trance and beat
the shit out of him. Or maybe just give him that look, the
bewildered, betrayed look that he was such an expert at giving.
Being such an expert at being betrayed as he was.
But Jim followed his lead, rocking his hips upward and thrusting
into the wet heat of Blair's mouth. Blair just let him, held still
and let Jim hold his head between his palms and just take him.
Only a little at first, quick nervous movements that slowly
lengthened, until Jim was moving fast and hard, shoving his cock
between Blair's lips so that Blair could hardly breathe. He didn't
care, his own hands gripping Jim's ass in encouragement.
Soft, harsh sounds from above, little grunting noises and Blair
could hear the sofa creaking with Jim's thrusts, the rustle of his
hair as Jim's hands clenched and released with each movement. Was
this how Jim heard, he wondered, every little sound exquisitely
clear and simply -there-.
There was a desperate edge to those sounds now, and Blair clung to
Jim, his jaw aching, his lips wet with saliva but wanting this
anyway. He wanted to feel Jim come in his mouth, to feel the muscles
under his hands tense and shake. He wanted it, like he had from the
moment he'd seen Jim and just known. Known who and what he was, and
what he was going to be. Whether Jim wanted it or not.
Tensing, yes, the grip in his hair painfully tight, yes, Jim keening
now, shaking, hips jerking, oh fuck yes, and hot, wet, so fucking
hot, spurting against the back of his throat and Blair sucked hard,
wanting it, needing it. Bitter and salty and so damn sweet because
it was Jim who had given it to him. And Jim had wanted it.
He swallowed it down, heard Jim whimper slightly and he knew that
feeling too. Too sensitive, too much to take after an orgasm and
Blair held very still, not pulling back because he didn't want to
yet and because Jim was still trying to pull his hair out by the
roots.
Very lightly, he ran his tongue over the softening shaft in his
mouth and heard a sigh. Jim melted bonelessly into the sofa, his
grip finally easing and Blair winced slightly at the ache in his
scalp.
Fuck it. It had been worth being nearly scalped.
Neatly, he fastened Jim's pants, waiting expectantly for him to
return from his little journey into Oz and the yellow brick road.
Better to just keep it shut now, just keep quiet while the guy with
the gun processed. Sandburg Survivalist Technique numero uno, don't
piss off guys who carry weapons and can shoot you in your sleep.
Jim seemed to be returning to the world of rational thought, and he
reached down and adjusted himself almost self-consciously. "It's on
the table," he muttered, not looking up.
Nodding, Blair got his feet under him and stood up, groaning aloud
at his knees and making a mental note to himself; get a fucking
pillow next time. Skirting around the couch, which Jim didn't seem
ready to leave anytime soon, he wandered into the kitchen. There,
folded on the table with one end tucked neatly under the sugar dish,
was a ten-dollar bill.
The things he did for gas money.
-finis--
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