Blair hurried through the layers of sleep as though the king of all nightmares chased him to drag him back to the realm where it ruled. Eyes popping open, he sat bolt upright, panting hard and not at all sure that being awake was enough to guarantee his safety. When nothing happened, he slowly sank back into the comfort of a leather chair he didn't recall sitting down in and confusedly checked out his surroundings.
Lit only by a fire, it looked very much like an old-fashioned library, such as an English lord might have in his manor, especially if he were the sort who cherished books for themselves and not for the value or prestige of owning an excellent collection. With the exception of the one housing the huge fireplace in front of him, the walls were lined with book-filled shelves that stretched up to a balcony where a second tier of them lost their topmost layers in the flickering shadows near the ceiling. A staircase-style ladder with wheels rested in one corner, with more leather-bound books stacked along the edges of the steps. Other than that, the room was bare of furniture save for the two wing back chairs he and Jim were in, the small round table between them which held a teapot and two fine china cups, and, very oddly to his mind, a large bed opposite the fire place. The canopy and curtains on it were deep garnet; a rich, vibrant contrast to the pure white bedding and the pile of fluffy-looking pillows.
As fascinating as Blair would have found the setting under other circumstances, a sense of foreboding filled him at the eerily empty and silent room, if for no other reason than because he had absolutely no idea how he came to be there. Searching his memory only pulled up anticipation for a surprise Jim had planned for the weekend and the vague notion that the last place he'd been was in Jim's truck. He must have slept the sleep of the totally exhausted to not rouse completely the moment he'd laid eyes on the treasures in here, if this unusual hotel/bed & breakfast/whatever was the treat Jim had arranged.
At one level of awareness, Blair didn't quite believe his own reasoning but couldn't think of anything that made more sense. Of course, if it was that much of an issue, he could always jokingly ask Jim what he had missed during his nap, and Blair turned to his partner to do exactly that.
Jumping out of his seat, Blair knelt at Jim's side, mentally scrambling to deal with what appeared to be a major zone. Hand over Jim's wrist where it draped limply over the chair arm, the other on his thigh, Blair murmured, "Okay, what has you so captivated here? Sound? It is awfully quiet in here to my ears, too damned quiet to be honest. You go looking for noise? No? Scent, maybe? Books, dust, leather, smoke are what you should be picking up - nothing weird there. Maybe Sight? I know you're fascinated with the flicker of flames, but it's been ages and ages since you fell for that. On the other hand, you've been running on fumes for weeks, so fatigue may be messing with you, here."
Worried about the depth of the zone, he watched for some sign of response as he spoke, unintentionally stroking over the pulse under his fingertips. Jim didn't so much as blink, and Blair sat back on his heels, fingers tapping at his mouth, mind racing. Given that Jim seemed to be fixated on the fire, it *was* the most likely culprit behind the zone, and Blair gingerly reached for Jim's chin to turn his head away. As if his hand had a life of its own, though, he cupped Jim's cheek instead, thumb landing squarely in the middle of Jim's lower lip.
He had time to think, "Soft, God, soft," before reason suddenly blazed in Jim's gaze, eyes fixing on and holding Blair's with disconcerting intensity. For a moment they stared at each other, all defenses down, all pretenses crumbled by the unexpected contact. So many times Blair had wondered if their entwined lives were leading to a communion like this, and he had never been sure if he longed for or feared the possibility. Now that it was upon him, he berated himself for a fool. He could see so clearly the love and devotion Jim wanted to give him, with no idea at all how to actually do so in away that Blair might accept.
Bewilderingly, Jim gave a minute shake of his head, as if to negate any criticism Blair might heap on himself. Somehow that single action was enough to tell him that Jim understood, without reservation, the jagged edges of doubt and insecurity that had plagued Blair, stopping cold any declarations he might have made. Understood and put away, unwilling to sully the beauty of where they were in that instant, and Blair could do no less without betraying his love for his complicated, infuriating, wonderful sentinel.
Apparently reading that as well, Jim smiled; the one that had an edge of surprise, as if he couldn't believe he could be happy enough to smile. Mirroring Blair, he cradled the side of Blair's head in one palm, shyly tracing the curve of his lower lip. At the same time he hesitantly touched the tip of his tongue to the pad of Blair's thumb, eyelids drifting down to half mast to hide the pleasure from the taste.
Sighing, he turned his face into Blair's palm. "I've always wondered...."
Blair's insides clenched, and he knelt up, leaning in to offer more than the trace left behind from his earlier nervous tapping. Jim met him halfway, hand sliding back to curl into the hair at the nape of Blair's neck. Their first kiss was heart breaking in its gentleness - a bare sweep of moist flesh over moist flesh that had the power to make them both tremble. They drew back a few millimeters to savor, cherish, anticipate, and finally (oh, finally, Blair's heart clamored) repeat.
Their second kiss, Blair decided dreamily, was perfection. Who knew something as simple as the mating of lips could move him so deeply? His chest was too small for the emotion filling him, and the oddest quiver of weakness was dissolving his bones. The most amazing thing was how clearly every detail was: not just the heat and taste, but Jim's heady, musky scent, the faint rasp of his breath, the stronger vibration of blood pounding through him, and the barely perceptible tremor in his hands where they rested.
It all combined to proclaim that Jim was as profoundly affected as Blair was. That knowledge was almost more than he could bear, and he pulled away, blinking at the sting of joyous tears. With a little 'oh' of protest, Jim caught him by the elbows and dragged him up so that Blair laid on him full length, their legs tangled together. Circling Jim's neck with his arms, Blair murmured his appreciation at the solid strength under him and gave himself over to the wonder that was kissing James Ellison.
All he wanted was to explore their new intimacy, gradually deepening their kisses until he knew Jim's mouth as well as he knew his own. But the same traitor hand took off on its own to smooth a possessive, demanding trail down Jim's side to his hip, where it dug in to pull their cocks into alignment. Passion, which had been simmering almost unnoticed at the edge of his consciousness, leaped high, all but swamping Blair as his dick firmed and lengthened. With the tiniest of regrets, he let go of the tender, near-innocence of 'beginning' and surrendered to hunger.
At the same time Jim groaned and fisted the curls at the back of Blair's head, holding him in place as he sucked Blair's tongue into himself, kneading and stroking it with his own in a frenzy of desire. Every muscle in him tightened, as if he were holding himself back from doing more by sheer force of will, which was incredibly exciting, too exciting for Blair. He was going to finish, right now, from nothing more than having his mouth ravished while being lovingly held.
Amazingly, that was what he wanted; what felt right. It would create a memory that would always remind him of how wonderful the onset was, no matter how bad the end became. Welcoming the prickle swarming up his spine, he groaned a warning to Jim and lost it when Jim groaned back. Back arching, he teetered, climax right *there* nearly on him, almost, almost....
.... With a jerk Blair sat up straight, hands going to the arms of his chair to grip them with white-knuckle force. The effects of the love-making he'd been dreaming of - and he had to have been dreaming, right? - drained away instantly, leaving only the edginess he usually associated with necking a little bit too long. Bewildered, he glanced around. The room was as he'd envisioned it, which made sense, of a sorts. He had to have seen it at least briefly when they came in, even if he didn't really remember that part of the night yet.
Forcing himself to exhale slowly and just as slowly inhale again, he pried his fingers up from the chair and scrubbed at his face. As wet dreams went, that one was a doozy. No surprise; the ones featuring Jim usually were. No doubt once Jim had mentioned special plans for them for the weekend, his subconscious had decided a confession of desire should be part of them. His heart, too, he admitted ruefully to himself, aching at the imagined love that had preceded the more erotic elements of the dream.
Why that part of him considered it necessary to drag that all out, Blair didn't know and didn't want to worry about. Still there must have been some purpose, and the proverbial light bulb went off, putting him on his feet before his train of thought could finish reaching the station. He found Jim totally gone, sense-wise, just like in his dream. Blair went to him, deliberately staying on his feet, close to the head of the chair, to avoid painful echoes of dream images.
Lightly brushing his curled knuckles over the top of Jim's head, Blair murmured, "Hey, there. Time to get back to the land of the living, man." Having apparently deduced the reason for the zone before waking up, Blair put himself between Jim and the fire. "Beautiful, I know, but let the flames go, now. Come on, that's it, there you go."
Jim blinked, once, in slow-motion, then again before abruptly focusing on Blair. "Wha... oh, no!" Without warning he wrapped his arms around Blair's waist and pulled him down into his lap. "Blair, I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Of all the times to zone... it's never happened like that before, I swear. It won't again; I'll control better." All while he spoke, he peppered small, pecking kisses over Blair's face, cuddling him close.
Shocked, Blair's brain spun in place, trying to connect his dream with Jim's words in a way that didn't sound as if Jim had shared it with him. Before he could come up with a logical explanation, Jim found his lips with his own, claiming them as if he had every right. Blair mentally babbled, 'well, doesn't he?' before lust zoomed up to consume every rational thought he had.
It only took a few minutes for both of them to be on the verge again, but before they got too close, Jim reluctantly eased away. He darted back for another quick kiss, then buried his nose in the curve of Blair's neck. "Love your taste. I could kiss you forever."
"Same here," Blair said, ignoring a tiny voice at the back of his mind that wanted to know how he could have possibly known exactly how Jim tasted.
"Scent, too." Sniffing at Blair's collarbone, Jim groaned and gently bit him. That led to more scenting along his jaw, throat and shoulders, followed by love bites that made Blair shudder and whimper. When clothes got in the way, Jim pushed them aside, or, with Blair's help, made them go away all together. Eventually he was down to his last shirt, a skin-tight tank top that wasn't a barrier to sentinel touch. His nipples poked at the thin material, almost a caress in and of itself. When Jim nuzzled at one taut bud while laying his palm over the other, Blair scrabbled at his shoulders, suddenly ready to come.
"Wait, wait, I want... I want...." Blair babbled. Under him he could feel Jim's dick throbbing in time to their harsh panting, giving its own warning.
Jim whispered hoarsely, "... it to last and last, I know. I *know!* Too hot, too good, I have to..." He ground up against Blair's bottom, hands still gentle by some force of will that Blair couldn't even begin to imagine.
"Oh, god! Jim, jim, jim, jim..." He writhed, nerves singing hosannas, breathlessly waiting for the first clench, the first give of...
....Blair's eyes shot open, and he leaped to his feet, landing near the fireplace with his hands in his hair, pulling hard. "A dream within a dream? Am I awake, really awake now?" He pinched himself, but didn't trust the flash of pain. Everything else had felt so very, very real. His dick pulsed with sullen frustration even as he combated the jumpiness from two near-misses, imagined or not.
"How can I tell? Man, I have to be sure." He scrubbed sweaty palms along his thighs, thinking furiously about everything he'd ever read, heard, or conjectured about unconscious states. Just as he was about to bang his head into a wall for inspiration, Blair noticed the title of one of the books near him, and grabbed for it.
"You can't read in dreams. The skill is wired into another part of the brain all together," he muttered, flipping the pages, relieved to see familiar words building toward a familiar story. "Wait, wait... I've read this one. Maybe I'm remembering, not reading." Quickly he put the book back, scanned for an unfamiliar title, and pulled that one out. To his immense relief, while the words made sense, he didn't know where they led.
"Okay, okay." Blair took several careful breaths and finally allowed himself to look at Jim, who was zoned, as he'd unhappily expected. Setting the book back where it belonged, he approached him cautiously, still more than halfway willing to believe that they'd shared the dreams. There was no outward sign of it, as far as Blair could see: no bulge distorting the front of Jim's slacks, no panting or nervous twitching. Despite that, Blair stood behind Jim's chair, using only his voice to try to bring him around. It didn't work, and after several long, anxious minutes, he gingerly put his hands over Jim's eyes to block his view of the fire.
And that betraying hand did it again, this time taking its partner with it as it slid down to rub along the outside of Jim's arms, then back up to massage his pecs and abs through his sweater. The thick weave wasn't enough to block Blair's perception of strong, hard muscles, but more was needed. He finger-walked the fabric up until it was bunched at Jim's armpits, baring him from collar to waist, forgetting why he shouldn't.
"Wow," Blair murmured unthinkingly, tracing the plane of Jim's breastbone, getting an instant hard-on at the glide of satin-covered strength under his fingertips. "I can not believe how incredible your skin is. I've got this urge to, I don't know, eat you up from head to toe, or, or, plaster myself against you and try to cover every inch. Or *something*."
With an inarticulate sound, Jim lolled open his thighs, emphasizing the growing ridge in his pants. A damp spot appeared where the head of his cock had to be, but he didn't move, allowing Blair to do what he would to him. It was possibly the most erotic moment that Blair had ever experienced, and he pressed his own dick into the unforgiving back of the chair as if to shove through to the enticing flesh waiting for it.
Jim reacted as if that were precisely what Blair had done. Hips lifting in a mute plea for release, he gasped, "Blair... please, lover... let me... oh! Please! ... taste you again!"
The soft entreaty was unbelievably arousing, not in the least because it confirmed that Jim had been with him, in spirit if nothing else, the first two times Blair had awakened in this place. Still busily mapping every line of curve of Jim's torso, he moved around to the chair's side and sank to his knees beside him. Fingers catching at Jim's belt, Blair stretched up to kiss him, wishing he was half naked as well, so they could be skin-to-skin.
Obviously of a like mind, Jim ripped and tugged at Blair's clothes as he devoured Blair's mouth, making small noises of hunger. When he'd uncovered Blair's upper body completely, he hauled him up so that they dragged over each other's chest, wiry hair caressing lush flesh. With a muffled shout, Blair scooted down so that he could do it again, moving from groin to tits, refusing to release Jim's lips as he did. Jim's cock burned a line into him; his own jabbed into Jim's leg as if to find entry there.
Yet he fought against the inevitable climax racing toward him, both because he wasn't ready to give up being with Jim so intimately, and because a part of him was keening in formless fear. He tried to back off, just a tiny bit, enough to catch his breath, but Jim desperately clutched at his backside with one hand and the back of his head with the other, keeping him close. Ignoring that kind of need, aimed directly at him, simply wasn't possible, and Blair surrendered.
It was going to be good, better than good, he could tell, and he....
.... curled into a miserable ball in his chair, arms around himself tight enough to hurt, not that he didn't on a dozen different levels already. Aside from the now persistent restlessness from lack of completion, Blair had a growing sense of wrongness within himself, as if damage were done to his spirit each time his union with Jim was interrupted. It was enough to convince him that whatever was going on was real - or a version of it, at least.
"Not a dream," he mumbled. "Vision? Maybe. Could explain why Jim is always in a zone when it all repeats again." Rocking slightly, Blair put his chin down on his knees and worked to banish his own discomfort to focus on understanding why they seemed trapped in this place.
"Not trapped," he said suddenly, sitting up straight. "I could just leave the room. Maybe all I need to do is go outside to break the cycle or loop or whatever."
He had been in libraries before that had shelves built right over the entrance, with a hidden latch that allowed an entire section swing away to allow access. Moving tiredly, he circumnavigated the room, searching for the way out, struggling against the urge to go to his sentinel. It felt wrong to leave him ensnared in his senses, but until Blair had a better grasp of what was going on, he didn't dare approach him again. He was positive they would simply wind up making love.
Before long, though, he had to give up his hunt for the door. As far as he could tell, there wasn't one, which was flatly impossible since they had to have gotten in somehow. It looked as if he were going to have to have Jim's help in locating the hidden exit. "Talk about your catch-22's," he mumbled to himself, tugging at his hair again. "Bring him out of it so he can use his senses to find the door, and wind up staying here because we take up right where we left off."
That sounded way too appealing, and keeping a safe distance back, Blair studied the seating arrangement. He got on his stomach and inched over to Jim's chair until he could grab the legs of it, and, pushing hard, tried to shove it to one side. It didn't budge. Pulling didn't work, either, though he rolled into a crouch and put his back into it. The chair had to be fastened down for some reason, he decided, absently rubbing at his shoulder.
Giving up on that line of attack, he checked out the teapot, thinking he might dump the contents on Jim's lap, but it was empty. After slamming a book loudly onto the floor, making his own ears ring, Blair roamed the room again, looking for anything he might use to break into Jim's zone without hurting him. Eventually he returned to the fireplace, leaning on the mantle and staring sightlessly at the painting almost lost in the gloom over it.
"I could just wait for him to come out of it on his own," Blair mused aloud. "He usually does after a few minutes. But he's already been under longer than that, and it's almost always a new outside stimulus that brings him around. Take a coal from the fire and put it close enough for him to feel the beginning of a burn?" He chewed on his lip, gladly dismissing the risky notion because there was no poker or other equipment next to the fire.
Hoping that if he became preoccupied, his intuition might come up with a plan, Blair paid more attention to the painting, distractedly admiring it. It was of a dark-and-rain-swept city street, not unlike any he might find in Cascade, and the artist had used the natural shine of the paint to cleverly suggest the difference between building and night, sidewalk and road. Here and there brilliant slashes of color implied cars in motion and neon lights, giving a feeling of life without portraying a single person. It was good, Blair admitted, if not to his taste. He could almost make out the promise of a vehicle, parked there, at one side. Eyes narrowing, he strained for a better view; somehow that blob of pigment and oil was weirdly familiar.
Stretching up on tip-toe, balancing against the rough wood of the mantle, he squinted to bring the object into focus.
A strong hand encircled his bicep, steadying him. "Sandburg... Blair.... What...?"
Blair spun to face his partner, and though he had found miscreant hands were a problem, he was shocked to discover his entire body was capable of taking off without his permission. It leaped onto Jim as if he was a tree and Blair a squirrel, all four limbs clutching tightly. Automatically catching him, Jim tucked his hands under Blair's ass to hold him, absorbing the impact without so much as a stagger.
"Oh, man, this is all so fucked up," Blair said between kisses he *had* to have.
Giving as good as he got, Jim growled, "No argument from me." Touching his forehead to Blair's, he added, "I can't seem to stop zoning at the worst possible moment."
Debating what to tell him and how, only because Jim didn't do weird well, Blair lost his chance to explain in detail when Jim took a step forward, probably to sit since Blair was hardly a light-weight, even for Jim's well-honed body. Despite his frantic clinging, Blair slipped a tiny bit; enough for Jim's cock to slide along the cleft of Blair's backside. Inhaling sharply at the pressure so close to his opening, he tried to hold perfectly still, but he had longed for, worried about, fantasized about Jim touching him there for far too long.
At the next step gravity did its job, feeling as though Jim were nudging at him to ready him, and all Blair could do was bite at Jim's collarbone, whimpering shamelessly. Another step and Jim lifted him, oh, so slightly, then dropped him, in subtle imitation of what they wanted, ripping soft cries from both of them. All the experience Blair had in the sexual arena faded before the arousal created by that teasing, fleeting bump and grind, leaving him awash in a sensual haze. The world tilted, but he couldn't spare the brainpower to worry if Jim had stumbled, as long as they landed together.
Vaguely grateful he landed on his back in the middle of the bed, Blair hung onto Jim with all he had, relishing the weight of him covering him. "Do something, anything, now, now, please."
Long fingers anchored in the curls over Blair's ears, Jim said urgently, "Don't let me zone again! It's killing me to be ripped away from you like that."
As if to promise that it wasn't going to happen, Blair fisted the front of Jim's shirt. "Then tell me what's getting to you. I thought it might be the fire, but that just doesn't make sense, given what we're doing when you go."
Pulling away, just a little, Jim smiled at him, expression filling with sweet wonder and awe. Absently carding Blair's locks into a corona around his head, Jim admitted, "You. The scent of you, the feel, the heat, your noises, the abandon that you give yourself with. It's, it's..." He struggled, clearly trying to find words to express what his senses gave him, and, as Blair watched, faded into a zone.
Switching from lover to partner in a split second, Blair reached to cup his face to bring him back, but dropped into blackness....
.... Springing from the chair, Blair raced for him, climbing onto him so that he sat astride Jim's hips, knees digging into the cushion. Still more than half hard, he relished the thrill of his cock resting alongside Jim's, but put it away in favor of solving the more important problem - getting the hell out of whatever it was they were stuck in. Jim focused on him almost immediately, spine going straight with tension.
"So you're overloading on the input from me," Blair said without preamble.
"No." Jim mitigated the harshness of the denial with a tender swirl of knuckles over Blair's cheek. "You're the only *real* part of this." He hesitated, sweeping his free hand to take in the entire room. "This isn't here. No smell of books or dust, no heat or sound from the fire, no sound anywhere besides from you. Even the chair under us - no texture, no sensation of touch, like the air itself is in the shape of a chair and supporting us. Until now I thought the senses were locking on you because of what we were doing, and then when we got close to finishing, I was losing focus and floundering into a zone on the nothingness."
"It's certainly real enough to me," Blair said thoughtfully, cuddling close and squirming against Jim's hot length. "A total absence - no wonder you'd zone on that."
"Except that's not what's happening is it?" Despite a thread of ire in his tone, Jim relaxed into Blair's arms. "Not unless I'm suddenly doing the equivalent of sleep walking while my senses are messing with me. We were nearly naked at one point, and on the bed the last time, but I always come out of it right where we started - here."
Chewing his bottom lip, Blair thought hard, then said carefully, "I thought I was dreaming, at first. You know, one of those dreams in a dream in a dream?" At Jim's grudging nod, he went on. "Then I thought, hey, maybe we're sharing a vision, especially, huh, since we did it once before and that was a merging, and this has been an attempt at a merging of a sorts. Which isn't to say that we need to have a physical event to match the metaphysical, but it does provide symmetry, which can be very important to the overall psychic gestalt. And it could be that we're experiencing technical difficulties because we haven't actually cleared the way for either variety of union. I mean, the first time was an emergency, but now we're under no time constraints, so it could be that...."
"Sandburg," Jim broke in, grinning hugely, "is all that leading up to you saying, 'we need to talk?' Because if it is, my reply is, 'fine, as long as it means we can finally get past heavy petting.' Are we on the same page with that?"
Blair had to laugh. It made the entire situation so much more comfortable, that a hard knot of worry that had been growing since the second time they bounced wound down to a much more manageable level.
Jim laughed with him, then added, "And, to guess at what needs covered: yes, I love you. I have for a very long time, but didn't think you wanted to take it in this direction for whatever reason. From my point of view, you backed off whenever I got too close." He sighed, and scrubbed his cheek over Blair's temple. "Made sense, since I'm no prize. It's a wonder you put up with me at all, and expecting you to add the typical problems lovers have as a matter of course to the mess the sentinel thing makes of me... Well, it didn't seem right or fair to make an issue of wanting you, too."
To Blair's surprise, what came out first from the insane swirl of questions Jim's confession created was, "You don't have a problem with the wanting?"
"Other than the lack of experience from not being willing to risk my career and livelihood, no." Jim slumped, as if giving himself permission at last to freely share himself with Blair. "Right now I'm wishing I had a better idea of what to do to make it good for you."
It was Blair's turn to grin. "You're doing great. In fact, if you're this good as a novice, I might not survive it when you get some experience under your belt."
"That's not what I had in mind for getting under my belt, Chief," Jim chuckled.
"God, the images that calls up," Blair said huskily, libido kicking back into first gear. "For the record, I love you, too. Wanted you badly, but wasn't sure acting on it was a smart thing to do for reasons that have a little to do with the sentinel thing and the cop thing and even the repressed, anal Jim thing, but had everything to do with the not being sure what the right thing for you was, mostly because I don't have much more know-how than you in this arena."
"Does that mean we've cleared the air and can get on with the furthering our practical knowledge, here?" Not waiting for an answer, Jim put a forefinger knuckle under Blair's chin and tipped his head back to claim his mouth tenderly, as if he hadn't ever kissed Blair before.
Maybe,Blair thought dazedly, he hasn't. At least not without due consideration. A tiny lick at the bow of his lips asked permission to enter, and he gave it with a barely voiced 'yes.'
For all the diffidence in Jim's approach, arousal rose quickly, turning their embrace rugged and urgent in very short order. They writhed against each other, seeking the perfect friction, the best rhythm and finding it so easily, as if they had loved a thousand times. Yet it was unknown, unfamiliar and all the more exciting for it and the promise of the cherished memory they would have in the aftermath. Neither tried to hold back, and their finish came at them...
...Swearing, voice growing louder and louder with each word, Blair pounded on the arm of the chair until his fists hurt, then got to his feet to pace. Gesticulating as if he could solve the problem by motion alone, he mumbled, "We should not still be here, we should *not* still be here. Maybe we didn't declare undying love or eternal devotion, but, damnit, it was the next best thing. No, I take that back. Better than spoken vows. Jim would never, ever take this step with me if he wasn't absolutely committed to our relationship. That's just Jim."
Blair stopped behind Jim's chair, the desire to go to him a physical thing drilling into brain and bone. Summoning determination from the same place inside of him where his love for Jim lay, he went back to pacing, thinking furiously and studiously keeping a distance from him.
"That goes both ways. I may not have started the day with the intent of making him my partner in all ways, until the day we die, but that's where I am, where I want to be, and nothing or nobody is going to make me change my mind."
Screeching to a halt, Blair repeated slowly, brain whirling faster than his body ever could, "Nothing or nobody. I've been assuming either Jim or I are the source of this situation. What if we're not? What if this is, I don't know, an attack of some kind? A foe neutralizing a sentinel? Jim had vision of Alex Barnes when he was hunting her. Could an older, more experienced sentinel turn the tables and literally drag Jim into his/her vision? Or could a shaman, one gone wrong?"
A half dozen other possibilities presented themselves, but guesses were all Blair had. Short of facts or a way to learn more, all he could do was theorize, and that would have to get them out, preferably before he became proof positive it was possible to die of sexual frustration. Squeezing the sullen ache that was his dick, he admitted that it wasn't the part that hurt most. The longing to become a physical part of Jim, connected to him in the most profound and basic of ways, had taken up residence in his chest, robbing him of will power and focus.
Getting within arm's reach was a temptation Blair didn't think he'd be able to resist, but he had no doubt that he and Jim had to work together to escape. He went back to pacing, more slowly this time, encouraged that he had begun to break down the problem into smaller segments, which were easier to work on and, hopefully, solve. First, bring Jim back without getting ravished, much he might want otherwise. Next, fill his partner in, so they could brainstorm together. Third... well, he wasn't sure of what that was, yet, but he would think of something.
On impulse, he sat cross-legged at Jim's feet, pulling them into his lap. The position was personal without being sexual, and he spared a split second to berate himself for not thinking of it earlier. Acting quickly, he took Jim's shoes off and dug his thumbs into the sole of the right foot, rubbing small circles into it. He was rewarded almost immediately with a quiet growl of pleasure, and Jim angled his heel to make it easier for Blair to work.
Leaning his head on the back of the chair, he said, "Now this is the way to bring a sentinel out of a zone."
"Not really practical in the field," Blair said between little puffs of effort.
"Can you imagine explaining it to Simon?"
They both fell silent, unwilling to lose the comfortable, companionable moment.
Eventually, though, Jim said, "So this isn't a vision to encourage us to become lovers?"
"I'm beginning to think enemy action," Blair admitted, switching to Jim's other foot. "Who and how, I have no idea. Can you sense anything, or feel anything, I don't know, unusual or off?"
More silence, then Jim said ruefully, "I'm never going to be able to concentrate with you doing that."
Make a show of reluctance, Blair stopped his attentions, but left Jim's feet in his lap, fingers curled loosely around the ankle. "Try leaving a portion of your awareness on my touch, so you don't get dragged into the nothing again."
Jim agreed to the suggestion with a frown that grew harder and harsher as the minutes passed. Uncertain if the expression was because he was or *wasn't* picking up on anything that might help them, Blair schooled himself to patience and waited.
Unfortunately, patience rapidly evaporated, leaving exasperation behind, but Blair held onto his resolve to let Jim do his thing, looking over the room again on the off chance he might have overlooked or misinterpreted some clue. He found nothing to remark on, though he did remind himself to have Jim check out one of the 'books' to see if it really had print in it. Killing a sigh, he leaned his forehead against Jim's leg and looked up at him through his lashes to make sure he wasn't zoning, then jerked upright.
When did he get close enough to do that? He hadn't moved at all; he was absolutely positive of it. With the now familiar confusion scraping across nearly raw nerves, Blair commanded himself to scoot back to where he had been, but before he could, Jim's gaze landed on him, pinning him securely in place. There was no censure in those heavenly blues; only scorching heat that intensified the color. Jim's erection, which had never quite gone away, firmed, tenting the front of his slacks.
"Don't look at me like that," Jim ordered, voice raw with emotion. "Not if you want to get out of this box."
"Like what?"
"Like I'm the best and most worthwhile part of your life. Like I'm the embodiment of every fantasy, wet-dream, and lustful thought you've ever had." His tone dropped into his lowest registers as he spoke, until he was nearly growling. "Like you love me beyond all hope of sanity and redemption."
"I must have very eloquent looks, then," Blair said with forced lightness, in an attempt to divert them away from making love again.
A split second later he angrily dismissed the impulse. He was never, ever going to deny what they had, even teasingly. They could work around or with or through the hunger threatening constantly to overwhelm them, but putting distance between them to avoid it was not an option. Clearing his throat, he added as honestly as he could, knowing Jim would hear it, "You are, you are, and I do."
"Blair," Jim said, half in warning, reaching for him anyway.
Stopping him with a palm against his shoulder, Blair trailed his hand down Jim's front. "I want to try something." Jim subsided, expression showing his worry, and Blair went on. "So far we've always been interrupted right before we climax together. If you're willing, I'd like to pleasure you while holding off myself. Maybe if one of us isn't caught up in, uh, *us,* we might be able to pick up on something useful."
Clearly thinking it through, Jim said, "That doesn't feel right. In fact, my knee-jerk reaction is to haul you to the bed and love you until you can't figure out where you end and I start."
"Oh. We... oh." That sounded so damned good that Blair had to force himself to stay on track. "I want that, absolutely, and in the near future, but we have to try something, and unless you have another suggestion, mine's the only one we've got."
Jim scrubbed at his face, jaw muscle jumping. "It's not like I have anything against you getting me off. It's just that, first times especially, should be about what's going on, heart and head, not just coming."
"I can't argue with that," Blair said quietly, his turncoat hands creeping down until they were feeling out the size and weight of Jim's cock under the fabric of his pants. "In fact, I can't say that's not what I want, too. But you take what you can get, most times."
"No, we are not going to settle. We've had too much go wrong without any help from us to risk deliberately starting off on the wrong foot." For all the stubbornness in his words, Jim didn't stop the snap from being undone and zipper from being lowered. He shuddered at the uncertain groping that brought his hard-on out from hiding and stared at it - or maybe the shaking fingers encircling it.
Experimentally, Blair stroked Jim's cock from head to base, licking his lips with no idea if it was because of nervousness or hunger.
"Blair. No. No."
The protest didn't stop Jim from thrusting into the grip on him, but he covered Blair's hand with his, apparently to stop another caress. Instead he hotly taught Blair what he liked best, all the while muttering 'no' over and over. Because of the hurt hidden under the sound, Blair tried to release him, tried to back off, back away, put some space between them, but his commands were ignored.
For the first time, Blair had to consider the possibility that it wasn't metaphorical; he *was* being betrayed by his own body. That was important, he knew, but he was vibrating in time to his jacking of Jim's cock, hips lifting minutely as if to beg for the same to be done to him. Jim felt it, of course, and he tore his eyes away from what their entwined hands were doing to study the wet spot over the head of Blair's cock.
"Together," Jim whispered. "We're supposed to be together. Touch yourself like you're touching me. Please."
"And if we bounce again?" Blair muttered, undoing his jeans with his free hand, anyway.
"We'll be more strung out," Jim panted, valiantly dredging up a coherent answer. "But we'll have more to work with, too; a better chance of derailing this obsession to fuck. We know that this is just a box lined with interesting, faded wall paper, as far as I'm concerned. A box I can't sense beyond or maybe there's nothing there to sense, I don't know, ah, ah... Blair."
At the sight of Blair's cock, Jim moaned, giving up all efforts not to use Blair's hand fast and hard. Barely hanging on himself, Blair gritted out through clenched teeth, "How did we get here? What the last thing you remember? I've been thinking I fell asleep in the truck on our way to the surprise you had planned for the weekend."
"I...uh! Oh, God... Yea, yeah you did. We... ah! ... I saw ... Blair, like that, please, just like that... it... it was wrong. Stopped truck. You woke up... we, we, uhn, close, so close, tell me you're close too, gotta ..."
Matching each stroke on Jim with one on himself, Blair stubbornly said, "We got out to see what it was?"
"Yes. Black shimmer. No shape. Oh, oh, oh..."
Blood thrummed through the flesh he held, telling Blair clearly that Jim was there, and he viciously squeezed under the head of his cock, killing his orgasm just as he was slapped into ...
... Blair hunched in on himself, eyes closed, back to the fire, slowly counting as he filled his lungs through his nose, held the air, then slowly blew it out again through his mouth, and held again for the same count. Meditation wasn't the goal so much as a blank mind was, and he resolutely let anything resembling a coherent thought pass by without paying the slightest bit of attention to it. Surprisingly, the technique went a long way toward controlling the hurt in his nads, though it didn't do much for the worse one in his soul.
When he was fairly sure he could deal with the latest bounce without breaking down and crying like a lost child, Blair sat up straighter, but kept his face turned to the back of the chair as if not seeing their prison would free his reasoning ability. So far, he thought tiredly, I haven't been doing that great. Why did it take me so long to realize that whatever is holding us is working through me?
Scratching the leather in front of him, he ticked off the points that made his conclusion inevitable. Sense wise, this library is totally real to me, but Jim hardly perceives what I see and nothing else at all. A bounce always begins with me regaining consciousness; I pull Jim in with me. My 'body' can be hijacked, so far only in small ways, thank god. And all the decisions I've made in here have been next to useless, exactly like someone is interfering with the process.
He rubbed at his chest, as if that would help the enormous, cold pain in it. Why didn't I listen to Jim? All the times I've given him grief about listening to his instincts, when he voluntarily tells me what he needs in that department, I blow him off to do what I think is best. All we got from my experiment is a worse dose of horniness. In fact, I learned more by working with him, fighting to communicate despite the circumstances, and we didn't plan that, it just happened.
With a snort of dry amusement, Blair banged his head into the chair. Every teen-aged male half-believes he can die from blue balls, or at least wants to think so, but that's exactly what it feels like here. I don't think we have many bounces left in us. I'm going to have to...
Strong hands locked around Blair's upper arms and hauled him to his feet, not giving him a chance to steady himself before he was shoved toward the bed. He only got a glimpse of the anguish on Jim's face as he landed on it, but it was enough to clear away his shock and get his mouth in gear. "I know it's not you doing this," he whispered. "I'm not fighting *you,* understand? You're right. There are some things you don't settle on, and this is one of them. I can't just lie here and let an enemy take what's ours."
Relief flashed across Jim's features, though the rest of him did its best to block Blair from leaving the mattress. His longer reach and inhumanly fast reactions were more than enough to counter every move Blair made to escape, no matter how hard Blair squirmed, kicked or punched. Most blows missed their target; the thing commanding Jim's body shrugged off the rest. As they fought, Blair's clothes were ripped away with an alien strength that matched the speed, regardless of the harm done to the vulnerable flesh under them.
Using every trick he'd ever dreamed of for leveling the playing field in a battle with a sentinel - an unwelcome side benefit of meeting Alex Barnes - Blair succeeded in keeping the thing at bay. He landed broad-handed slaps to sensitive places, narrow skimming scratches in places where it would hurt the most, and bites on thin-skinned areas. Murmuring softly to coax the hearing into dialing up, he loosed brain-jarring shouts and shrilled whistles directly into unprotected ears. He even shoved his bloody, fight-dirty fingers into its mouth and nostrils to leave bad tastes and smells. Through it all, the thing remained silent, expression blank and limbs weirdly loose and gangly, as if it didn't know what to do with them when they were actively in use.
Each bleeding from a dozen small wounds, Blair and the thing eyed each other from opposite ends of the bed, then it lunged across the small space, smashing Blair flat onto the mattress to hold him there with its weight. Shoulder tucked under Blair's chin to prevent him from biting, it pressed down hard, so that it was impossible for Blair to take a full breath. Spots danced in Blair's vision, and he vaguely wondered if they would bounce if he passed out from lack of oxygen. It relented, fractionally, and while Blair sucked in a very necessary breath, it quickly tied Blair's hands to the bedposts with scraps of clothing. When Blair tried to fight again, it repeated the squashing, this time securing Blair's feet while he recovered before returning to lie flat on top of him.
The only positive point that Blair could find in the entire struggle was that both of them remained flaccid, which he sincerely hoped meant that the thing couldn't control Jim's automatic responses. If it was counting on their incendiary reaction to each other's proximity to take over, Blair planned on disappointing it. Exhaustion weighed him down as much as the thing did, killing anything resembling passion, and he focused on that, half-wishing it would force them to bounce. Apparently expecting him to return to the battle, the thing cautiously made small adjustments to their position until they were in a parody of a lover's embrace: hands under Blair's shoulders to hold him close, face buried in the pillow next to Blair's head, cocks aligned and nestled almost innocently together, legs between Blair's wide-flung ones.
Another time and place, Blair would have been in heaven. As it was, he stifled a sob of anger and willed himself into stiff, unrelenting rejection that hurt more than his injuries. Jim's generous warmth soaked into Blair, his scent musky and enticing, wearing away at Blair's resistance and soothing his fatigue. Reminding himself that it wasn't Jim, really, covering him - not a living body, not one inhabited by his partner - bolstered his will with sorrow and grief.
Until the curve of his shoulder, where it met his neck, was tenderly licked, then nibbled on with expert skill. The delicacy in the touch was so exquisite, he worried that Jim had succumbed to the attraction between them. More licks made a path down to his nipples, powerful hands still anchoring his torso to the bed. Somehow Blair stayed silent and motionless when wet, hungry lips closed over one of the small bits, nursing it to a fiery peak.
The other was rolled and pinched, precisely the way Blair loved to have it done, and he bolstered his defiance with the sardonic mental comment that 'of course it would be, given it was all in his head to start with.' All the sarcasm in the world couldn't stop it from feeling fantastic, though, sending bright shards and sparkles of lust all through his middle. Against his will his dick readied, straining against Jim's solid abdomen as if begging for the same attention being lavished on his nipples.
Despite it all he remained immobile, schooling indifference in his expression with every ounce of stubbornness in him. When the thing switched suction from one nub to the other, fingers taking up where mouth left off, Blair prided himself on not making the slightest sound or motion. But the sensual torment went on and on, until he all but forgot why he couldn't give into the persistent caresses. He chewed the inside of his cheek hard enough to draw blood when the thing used Jim's tongue to swirl a wet, not-quite-tickling, path toward Blair's navel, leaving those clever fingers to keep his nipples up and hard.
There was no doubt where that talented, hot mouth was heading, and Blair wanted to scream in frustration and anger at the perversion of what he and Jim should have shared. For all that, the idea of what was about to happen was almost enough to get him off, let alone the sight of that beloved head poised on the brink of sucking him. Screwing his eyes shut, he refused to watch the progress down, but in the end couldn't resist peering down his body from under his lashes, a tiny, breathy 'oh' slipping free of his control. Jim looked up at him, gaze filled with a mix of ravenous hunger and love that was impossible to deny. Blair's hips bucked up as Jim's head dipped, lips rounded and waiting, and the first wave of released burned, burned...
... Blair awkwardly scrambled out of the chair, uninjured and completely dressed, but so turned on he could come if the wind blew, as the old joke went. He stumbled to Jim, not allowing himself to think, plan, ponder, worry or anything else, acting only on impulse so the thing couldn't anticipate him. Straddling Jim's lap, arms around his neck, Blair kissed him, nasty, deep and hard, only to pull away, take a breath, and kiss him again.
As Jim surfaced from his zone, Blair babbled between kisses, "Could you fight it at all? Were you aware of me all the time, or only part of it, like at the end when we couldn't hold off any longer? You zoned before we got into it once or twice before. Did it feel different? When I tried to finish you without me, the bounce was different for me. For a split second I was cold, so cold, then back in the chair and that happened once before, too, when you zoned unexpectedly. You came out of it twice on your own, too. The last bounce, but the thing was using you? Was it different from when you came out on your own when I was checking out the painting?"
Laughing, Jim hugged him close, and the joy in it was a balm on the enormous ache Blair had become. Gentling him by chasing each kiss as Blair drew away so that their lips lingered longer and longer with every pass, Jim murmured, "It was a nightmare, like those where you can't move as the Awful Monster gets closer and closer, except I was the monster and you were the victim." He shuddered, took an extra thorough, long kiss and went on. "The zones always feel the same, so does coming out of them. And what painting?"
Startled, Blair jerked away to arm's length, studying him carefully. "The one over the fireplace."
"There's nothing there but smoke and shadows."
Twisting his neck, Blair checked for himself, nodding when he saw the ornate frame. Pulling away from Jim in slow motion, coaxing him into following by maintaining contact, Blair went to stand in front of the picture. It was as compelling as ever and more detailed - to the point that Blair could clearly see that it was a blue and white '69 Ford truck parked on the rainy street.
"Not 'like' a street in Cascade," Blair said, leaning back into Jim's arms. "It 'is' a street in Cascade. Where we are in reality, I bet. You can't see it because you're in here with me, and it's my senses that are being short-circuited to prevent me from perceiving anything outside my own head."
The hold on him became brutal, and the thing dragged Blair down to the floor, shoving him down to all fours as it ripped away at his jeans to reveal his opening. Ignoring the threat of rape, Blair said reflectively, "Ah, I have to be right or you wouldn't be trying to pull me off track by using Jim as a weapon again."
Cruel thumbs pried apart his ass cheeks, and while the erection that hadn't died since the last bounce throbbed eagerly, Blair was curiously aloof from his body's needs. Fixing his gaze on what he could see of the painting from where he was, he carefully followed his chain of thought. "So how do I get from here to there? Make like Alice Through the Looking Glass and climb through the picture?"
A single finger brushed over his pucker, and on one level, Blair braced himself for agonizing penetration, but most of him was memorizing every aspect of the painting, as if were possible for him to will himself into it. The expected assault never came. Instead Jim made a soft, needy noise and bent to cover Blair's center with a probing, arousing lick. Crying out in pleasure, Blair backed into the unforeseen caress, but after only a few moments Jim's grip on him slackened as Jim grew still. Blair had enough time to realize that Jim had to be deliberately zoning before cold blackness swam over him, taking...
... Groaning as the pain making love had subdued took possession of him again, its icy bite going straight to the bone. The only thing that hurt worse was his cock, and it didn't seem to care about anything but finding release, and right now, damnit! Half-falling out of the chair, Blair crawled to Jim, all too aware that they had to be working against the clock, here, with the clock on the thing's side. Another bounce or two and the agony would be enough to kill.
Unable to get into Jim's chair with him, Blair put his head in Jim's lap, savoring the damp warmth from his groin with animal-like simplicity. Moaning Blair's name, Jim toppled to the floor, somehow pulling Blair to him so that he was half on top of him. "Coming back hurts worse when I zone before it wants me to, doesn't it? And now we're getting weak on top of it."
"I think you're not zoning so much as its hold on you slips, and you go back to your own body. You're unconscious, maybe, since you don't remember when you get back here, but at least you're not completely trapped."
"We have to be physically close out there," Jim pointed out. "You can't imagine a flavor or a scent, and you can't provide me with yours since you can't know your own taste or what your own arousal smells like." Jim shivered, hands clutching at Blair's back. "It's trying to take me over again, but I think I'm too drained to use. I can hardly move on my own, let alone at its command."
"So we have to be close to the answer, too."
Jim nuzzled at Blair's temple until he wearily lifted enough to meet his eyes, and said, "I brought you back with me once before. Maybe I can do it this time, too, if you can think of a way for me to get where we need to be." Almost before he finished speaking, he rolled until Blair was under him, weight on his forearms as he ground their cocks together.
"Have to be on the right track," Blair gasped under the wave of pleasure/pain. "It's back to the same old trick." Voice changing completely, he repeated, "Same old... Jim, you *have* to be sensing reality, so it's probably blocking you, that is, until you get close to climax. That's when you instinctively open yourself wide to receive the most sensory input from your lover, and it either can't cope with the flood of information or can't over-ride automatic reflexes. Chances are good that you're zoning on the difference between what it wants you to pick up and what you're actually getting."
Grabbing his head with both hands, Blair pulled until their gazes locked, bodies working on autopilot toward orgasm. "Do it now, before you have to. Aim all senses on me, ignoring everything else, one at a time, starting with touch."
"I...."
"Try!"
With a hard shudder, he cradled the back of Blair's skull in one palm, expression growing distant - introspective, the powerful thrusts not withstanding. To ground him, Blair murmured, "What do you feel? Just the tips of your fingers, nothing else yet. Forefinger, right hand, if you have to narrow to a pinpoint focus. What do you feel?"
"Wet," Jim mumbled after several long, frightening minutes, shuddering again, this time violently. "Cold." His fingers stirred restlessly in Blair's curls. "Your hair is soaked, with rivulets running down your neck."
"Just my hair? Expand out, both hands, now."
"Too cold, Chief. You're too cold." Without further prompting, Jim added, "All over. You're lying beside me, and I've got one arm over your back to hug you close because you're so cold and wet, your clothes are drenched through. So are mine."
As if speaking of the difference negated it, they suddenly were side-by-side, Blair huddled face-first into Jim's chest as he petted Blair's hair. There was no sense of motion or change; they simply were as Jim described. The thing was gone, and they nestled together, finding comfort in nearness.
Holding down his growing excitement, Blair softly coaxed, "What kind of water? Tap water, ocean, lake? I know you can tell the difference by touch."
"And smell. I smell rain. I can feel the drops hit us. Heavy, fat drops - it's not coming down fast. We have to have been lying here for a while."
"Lying on what?" Blair asked, encouraged that Jim was adding another sense without being told.
Frowning, Jim considered, eyelids drifting down. "Concrete, filthy concrete, almost slimy. Smells like an alley."
Closing his own eyes to imagine the scene, Blair clutched Jim's shirt in both fists. "Can you hear the rain, too? Street traffic?"
"Yes," Jim said instantly. "Drops on metal close by, on the roofs high over us, at least four stories, but close on three sides. On cars parked at the end of the alley. I think we're pretty far from the mouth of it. Tires on wet pavement, vehicles moving...."
"Not too far away, Jim. Stay here, with me."
A subtle tension that had been building in Jim faded, and he sighed, dropping his chin onto the top of Blair's head. Shivering almost constantly, he chaffed at Blair's back, and only then Blair realize he was shivering, too. His clothes clung to him clammily, and he burrowed into the only warmth available - Jim.
"Hy... hy... hypothermia?" Blair stammered, teeth chattering.
"Yeah." Jim hitched upward a few inches, dragging Blair with him. "There's a warm spot over there: hot air swirling, maybe a vent of some kind."
"C...can you... smell why it's w...warm?"
"Bakery? Food scents." Jim pulled them along again, and Blair did his best to help by kicking feebly at the ground.
"Open y...your eyes, Jim," Blair commanded quietly, screwing his own tightly shut to discourage himself from looking yet. "See the alley, the street, the source of the warmth you're taking us toward."
"Dark, god, how can it be this dark in a city?" With a grunt, Jim heaved a few feet further.
Sharply, Blair said without thinking, chatter covering a flash of fear, "Don't worry about that. Find a light source and concentrate on it. A street lamp, the cars going by, a nearby window, anything."
Still crawling, Blair in tow, Jim asked irritably, "Why?"
As if the question summoned it, Blair felt a ghost of carpet over the hard concrete, and he blurted the first thing that came to him. "Man, we're going to scrape our skin off to the bone if we keep this up."
"Thanks, Chief... for calling attention... to the raw... hamburger... that will shortly be... my elbow and knee." Regardless, Jim pressed on. "Looks like, we, we lucked out. Security light with motion detector. Over a doorway. Vent is beside it. Construction dumpster, too. Windbreak."
Visualizing the haven, Blair locked his jaw shut in deliberate imitation of his partner, and did his best to creep toward it with Jim. His foot snagged on something, and he shook it to free himself. It tore into the leg of his jeans, clawing at his skin. Fear swirled sickly, but he pushed it down firmly, and said insistently, "Damn. Caught on trash or rough edge of some kind."
"Hang on, hang on." Waiting for Blair's next kick, Jim heaved hard. They moved a few precious feet, but it felt as though whatever had Blair came with them. Oddly, it got heavier, and the sharp pinch of it was like shards of ice digging in and spreading up his limb. Absolutely, categorically denying that was possible, Blair permitted himself a glimpse over Jim's shoulder at their goal.
It was a single cone of light, sparkling slightly from the falling raindrops. Under it a deep doorway, with a threshold wide enough to sit on comfortably, waited for them. It looked dry, and he fancied he could feel the warm air from the exhaust grill next to it. It also looked welcoming; oddly much more welcoming than.... Blair fiercely cut his thought short. Here was what counted for now: this second, this inchwormish gallump beside Jim, this promise of respite from wet and cold.
With a shout of triumph they made it to their promise of refuge, and Blair pretended the wail of rage and disappointment he heard was only the wind.
Grappling with each other and gravity to sit on the doorstep, they leaned on the door with Jim facing the alley and Blair hip-to-hip with him, back to the night. Blessedly the metal and concrete around them had absorbed heat from the constant rush of hot air, making Blair think of himself as a lizard on a sun-heated rock as he basked in it. He giggled, half-drunk on relief and exhaustion.
"We'll rest here a while," Jim mumbled. "Catch our breath, then head for the truck. It's only a couple hundred feet away."
Heart lurching at the prospect of going back into the dark just yet, Blair wriggled closer to Jim as if to hold him where he was. "No. We're not strong enough; it can capture us again if we slip for even a second."
Instead of arguing that anything out of the ordinary was happening, a typical Ellison method of dealing with the strange, Jim said matter of factly, "It's pretty weak, but you're right. It wants us dead more than it wants to survive." At Blair's open-mouthed astonishment, he added uneasily, "I may be dense, but not to the point where I'll ever risk your life again by refusing to face facts."
Deciding that saying nothing was the kindest thing to do, especially since he had not clue one what to say, Blair asked, "You can see it, smell it, whatever? What is it? How do you know what it wants?"
Catching him by the chin so that he didn't automatically scan for the thing's presence, Jim said simply, "Malevolent."
"No argument, but a physical description would be nice, too." Blair rested his forehead in the hollow of Jim's shoulder. "Might give us a clue how to get away for good and not ever be caught again."
Jim brushed his cheek over Blair's temple, glancing at their enemy from the corner of his eye. "I've never seen or heard of anything like it. It's like a piece of the night come to life; a little blacker, a little shinier than its surroundings. No scent or sound, and it was a lot bigger the first time I spotted it - man sized. Now it's only as big as a rat." With a smile in his voice, he said in an aside, "One of your warehouse rats."
The humor calmed nerves starting to jangle, as Blair assumed Jim intended, and he smiled as best he could, snuggling into him. Hugging him, Jim went on, "It's cold, and the things around it get colder while it's near. I think that's why it's staying clear of us now. The heat from the light may be negligible, between that and what the vent's providing, along with what we're generating between us - I get the impression that hurts it."
"If it's still hanging around, then, you have to be right. It wants us dead, bad. I wonder why?"
"Because we're the opposite of all that it is and all that it needs," Jim said flatly, giving him another squeeze, then chuckling. "Twice in one night, Chief. That's a record."
Shutting his mouth so fast his jaw clicked, Blair demanded, "What do you base that on?"
"You don't think I'm right?" Jim sat up a little straighter, absently waving his hand as the motion detector light wavered.
"Well, yeah," Blair admitted, not questioning his own gut-level assessment of the thing. "I mean, you once called me your light, and told me you ultimately chose to use your abilities for the light - for good, to help people - and, man, that's where I am, too. Where I want to be." The proverbial light bulb went off for him, and he added, "It was draining us! Exciting us with sex, then bleeding the energy off before the spike of culmination - creating cold and dark in us."
"Huh - so if we generate, ah, more light and heat than it can cope with, we'll kill it?" To his surprise, Jim ran a possessive down his back to cup his ass. "Real love-making, not rutting on each other - union, not mindless fucking."
"Love is the brightest light," Blair said gently.
"That's why we were vulnerable to it, isn't it?" Jim sounded thoughtful, not guilty or resentful, to Blair's relief. "We took the love for granted and let the healthy, normal desire that's part and parcel of it fester like a disease or defect."
"It's a theory, anyway." Taking advantage of Jim's unexpected open-mindedness, Blair said bluntly, "If there's a force/godhead/spirit that brought us together - a true sentinel in a world that has forgotten them and the power for good inherent in them and a person with the knowledge and talent to teach him - there's bound to be forces that oppose our partnership."
"That would certainly explain how Barnes came at us," Jim said bitterly. "And more than a few of the other problems we've had in the past few years."
Blair didn't have to see the thing to know that it quivered in readiness at the unhappy turn the conversation was taking. To banish old grievances and sorrows, he drew back enough to smile at Jim as sweetly and sexily as he could. "So maybe if we consummate our relationship, the universe or whatever will quit trying to split us apart."
Carding his fingers through the lock's over Blair's ear, Jim asked seriously, "Here? Now?"
"Uh, well..."
Jim studied him for a moment. "If we're hurting it with this, anything more romantic could possibly incapacitate it, maybe long enough for us to get away from it."
It was the promises in his eyes that convinced Blair to take the chance, not the menace of the thing lurking too nearby. Lifting his face as Jim lowered his, Blair braced himself for disappointment and to hide it from Jim. After all, everything they had shared to that point had been mind-to-mind, and physical reality couldn't possibly live up to the perfection of those first encounters. In fact, he was more or less certain that the only reason Jim had been able to speak to him so freely had been because of that direct mental connection.
Jim's lips touched his, yielding and entreating, sending a charge through Blair that sped up his pulse and burned in his gut, instantly dispelling any notions about how unsatisfactory the real thing was going to be. They kissed with all the tenderness of new lovers, taking nothing but simple pleasure from the contact, and Blair honestly believed that if this was all they ever had, it would be more than enough to thrive on. Then Jim teased along the inside of Blair's bottom lip with the edge of his teeth, asking for more, and Blair gave it eagerly, grateful beyond belief that there *was* more.
Sighing so beautifully it was another caress, Jim deepened their kiss, thoroughly acquainting his tongue with Blair's by languid, liquid pummeling. He drew away for them to catch their breath, then joined their lips again, this time coaxing Blair into delving into his mouth. Oddly, it was both familiar and unfamiliar to Blair to possess him that way. The taste and texture from earlier was there, but enhanced, stronger somehow and in a way that turned Blair's insides into so much trembling need.
Without releasing Blair's lips, Jim urged him to stand, and they made it to their feet with the aid of the door behind them for support. Distantly Blair wondered why the move, but the security light flickered, reminding him that it needed motion to remain activated. Kissing wouldn't be enough, he thought dimly.
Jim turned them so that Blair was backed into a corner, his broad shoulders blocking anyone's view into the doorway and effectively surrounding Blair with heat. Not that he needed it; all memory of cold had vanished. The worry about what cowered in the dark dissolved into the glow of being loved so completely as they traded ownership of their kisses back and forth.
Finally Blair broke away long enough to murmur, "It's time to go home."
"Yes." Reclaiming his lips, Jim calmly walked them toward the truck, one arm over Blair's shoulders to guide and protect.
A splash of icy cold, as if he had walked into a nearly frozen puddle, covered Blair's lower leg on the side opposite Jim, but he hardly noticed. They reached their goal, and Jim opened the driver's side door and picked up Blair by the waist to put him on the bench seat. He swept his hands along Blair's arms and down his legs as if brushing off some of the damp, then back up again, all the while kissing him as if he intended to nothing else for the rest of their lives. Wanting him closer, Blair tugged on his biceps and scooted backwards, lying down on the seat.
Smoothing a broad swatch of heat from Blair's throat to his thighs with his palms, Jim stared at the bulge distorting the front of Blair's jeans. Neither the touch nor the gaze was lustful, but admiring and reverent, which didn't stop Blair from getting harder and bigger than he'd ever been in his life. Without thinking, he reached down to adjust himself, and couldn't resist swirling his thumb over his leaking slit.
The hunger that threaded through the fiery look told him Jim knew precisely what he had done - and liked it. Killing a tiny niggle of self-consciousness, Blair offered up the fluid to him. Holding him by the wrist, Jim lapped away all traces, climbing into the truck and shutting the door behind him as he did. Hovering over Blair in a crouch, he didn't stop with Blair's thumb, but suckled at each finger and nipped the swells of the palm, orally ravishing Blair's hand in lieu of the safety needed to ravish Blair himself.
When it would have inevitably escalated to more, Jim pulled himself away with obvious reluctance, nudging Blair into sitting up on his side of the truck. Starting the engine, Jim hesitated, then undid his slacks enough to free the head of his hard-on. As Blair had done for him, he gathered the wetness there and gave it to Blair to savor.
Feeling the importance of the exchange, Blair repeated Jim's actions, wishing he could taste as much as his lover could. He was so engrossed in learning every callous and faint scar, as well as every hint of flavor, that he was surprised when Jim tugged his hand away, nodding at the view outside the windshield in explanation. They were parked in front of 852 Prospect - the dark and quiet of it taking on new meanings.
Blair smiled, not concerned by any of it, and, in no hurry at all, they got out and went upstairs, arms around each other's waist and content in the companionable silence between them. Once in the loft bedroom, they took their time stripping off their wet clothes and drying off, but all the while Blair's nerves hummed and sang in anticipation, fine tremors shimmying throughout his body. It was good, so very good, but the absolute best part was that Jim was on the same page, as ready and randy as Blair was.
Jim crawled into the big bed first, holding up the sheet to invite Blair in, for once not trying to hide the emotions owning him: fear, vulnerability, a surprising hint of shyness, but mostly a love a poet would have trouble expressing. Doing his best to radiate the same openness, Blair hastily climbed in with him, arrowing straight for Jim's waiting arms. For an amazingly long time, given how turned on they both were, they did nothing but hang onto each other with all four limbs, trying to press through all barriers to literally be one person.
Bit by bit, though, most of the tension bled away and sensuality came to the forefront, inspiring them to explore the wealth of bare skin available. It was, Blair decided dazedly in the midst of mapping the contours of Jim's back with his fingertips while his lips did the same to Jim's front, a treasure to cherish. For Jim's part, he seemed as fascinated with Blair's hairy chest, testing the texture with various parts of himself - a finger, his tongue, his cheek, even an elbow - and clearly finding wonderful differences.
Mother Nature snuck up on them, and before Blair realized he'd crossed the line into hunger, he was rubbing his pre-come slicked cock over Jim's equally slippery dick, moaning almost continuously. Palms cupping Blair's ass, Jim encouraged him with his own careful thrusts and whispered words. "Tell me what you want, how you want it. Slow and teasing? Fast and hard? Want in me? Want me in you? My mouth? My ass? Want me to lift it high, face on the mattress, all submission and begging? Tell me, beautiful. This is your wedding night for all practical intents and purposes, and all I want is to make it as perfect for you as you ever imagined or dreamed."
"God," Blair muttered, unable to find another syllable at his command. "God, god, god." Without warning his finish burst over him in vivid, delicious spasms that were galaxies beyond great. With a wild cry that killed any satisfaction that Blair had found, Jim came as well, writhing against Blair with an abandon that drove him wild. Shoving Jim to his back when he went boneless with release, Blair turned himself head to toe with him, licking up their spilled cream and finding the taste an aphrodisiac he didn't need. Jim returned the favor, once he recovered enough to have the strength for it.
Not satisfied with what was on Jim, Blair went straight for the source, humming happily at the feel of the smooth, hard column filling his mouth. When Jim took him the same way, they settled into a blissful sixty-nine that wandered from shaft, to balls, to hole, moving or lingering as whimsy dictated. Despite the blatant sexuality of what they were doing, they lost themselves in the give and take of pleasure, wanting nothing more than the wordless communion of body and spirit. It was the drive to be even closer that finally pulled them apart long enough to reposition themselves.
As if no time had passed since Jim had asked, Blair straddled him, taking both cocks between his hands to jack them with slow, inflammatory strokes, and said, "I want it all. Every way possible, every thing one man can give to another. I want it so much, I can't even begin to decide where to start." He rocked into the grip on them, matching the unhurried rise and fall of Jim's hips. "Make me scream with ecstasy; make me plead; make me demand; make me do things you wouldn't ask a cheap whore to do, then let me make you do all that for me."
Heels digging into the bed, eyes rolled into the back of his head, Jim arched his back, nearly unseating Blair. Amazingly, he held off his climax, though he was shaking when he grabbed Blair by the forearms to gingerly tug him away from their hard-ons. He flung an arm out to the nightstand, fished out a tube of Wet, and filled Blair's hands with that.
"Fuck me. Now. Use me like you own me, like all that matters is burying your cock in me to the hilt."
"Oh." Blair swallowed and gave his sack a hard pull to derail his orgasm. "I won't hurt you!"
"Beautiful, I'm so ready for you that I already hurt with emptiness and craving. Blair, love, my mate... fuck me!"
Afraid the honeyed demand would bring him off despite his best intentions, Blair scrambled to kneel between Jim's wide-spread legs and helped him put a pillow under his ass for better access. He should have looked awkward or posed for a bad porno, but the undeniable willingness behind it turned it into an erotic image Blair knew he would never forget.
Gracing Jim's pucker with a long, probing kiss, Blair opened the lube and spread it where it had to be, biting his lip to keep his focus on opening Jim instead of simply plunging in.
Jim accepted the intrusion so easily that Blair forgot a lot of his worry and quickly gave him two fingers to make sure of his openness. Jim clenched internal muscle around the invader, and suddenly Blair had to have that tender, butter-soft tissue wrapped around his hard-on. Hand on Jim's hip, he guided the head of his cock to the rosy bud and pressed in, as captivated by the sight of it unfurling to accept him as he was by the heat surrounding his need.
Mumbling no, he unwillingly thrust and spent, disappointed he hadn't lost but joyous that a part of him was so deep inside Jim.
"Yes, yes, yes." Fisting Blair's curls at the back of his head, Jim lifted enough to kiss him, then shot, whimpering Blair's name over and over.
Miraculously, Blair stayed erect enough to stay within Jim, pumping steadily as the both coasted through the last waves of release.
"Don't stop... please... you have no idea... god... you're... it's..." Jim tossed his head, drawing his legs up and hooking his hands under his knees to hold himself open. "Harder, harder!"
"Should see yourself," Blair grunted, doing as told, hunger rising again, higher than before, higher even than he'd been trapped by the thing. "Wanton, wicked, willing, wonderful... could do you forever... want to do you forever... Touch yourself! Show me how bad you want it."
Locking his ankles at the small of Blair's back, Jim pinched his already taut nipples, hissing at the contact. "Like this? Or do you want this?" He feathered his fingertips over his belly, creating visible goosebumps, and went back to his nipples for a moment. "Or this?" Closing his fingers around his shaft, he worked himself, matching the speed and rhythm Blair fucked him with.
"Damn! Oh, damn. You love it! Want every inch of me. I can feel your hole flexing, pulling me in deeper." Blair panted, picking up speed and force, pounding away at Jim's yielding body. "No one's ever seen you like this before, have they? Immersed in sensation, greedy for it, greedy for more, for all... all you can get, all you can take."
"No one," Jim affirmed, blindly cupping Blair's face in his palm, thumb fucking Blair's mouth. "All yours, waiting for you all this time. Hoped it would be you. Wanted it to be you. I... I... god, Blair. Beautiful Blair. Have to come. God. Sorry. Have, to, have, to, have..."
"All for me," Blair's heart sang, rejoicing even as he hammered away at Jim, each slam punctuated by the phrase.
Howling, Jim knotted his fists in the bedding and came, the sparse amount of seed bubbling out of him no indication of how powerful his climax was. He tightened almost painfully around Blair, inside and out, absorbing every millimeter of cock Blair had to give him.
Ecstasy obliterated Blair, save for the precious inches connecting him to his other self, freezing him in place as his body strove to make them one. When he finally drifted back to himself, he was puddled bonelessly over Jim's chest, all but cooing as Jim finger combed his hair. There didn't seem to be any reason to move or speak, so he didn't, floating in the after glow.
Unexpectedly, Jim said, "That thing won't be the last attack on us. Not as long as we do the job we're meant to do."
"And as long as we work together, we'll get through again. If we don't, well, we gave it our best and that's all anyone can do," Blair said disinterestedly. He didn't want to worry about the future; not yet. Not when the present had so much to offer.
Silence reigned again, and this time Jim seemed willing to let it be and slide on it into sleep. That was a good plan, Blair decided, though they should probably clean up, if nothing else. On the other hand, if a sentinel didn't have a problem with the stickiness and a rumpled bed, who was Blair to complain? Almost asleep, a last thought strayed across his mind, and he asked muzzily, "That reminds me - exactly what *was* the surprise you had planned for the weekend?"
Laughing, Jim rolled them until Blair was under him and kissed him until he forgot the question - for the moment.
finis