Disclaimers: Not mine, never were, probably never will be <sob> but hey, they have a great time while they're here!

Notes: This is for Mega, 'cause she's nice. Feedback always appreciated, good, bad, or indifferent!

Summary: Jello. Like S'mores, only totally different. And with Jello. <grin>

Warnings: <grin> Just that I'm not finished yet! Next one planned: Caramel <eg>

Jello by Owlet

The loft was brimming full of smells when Jim walked in through the door--saffron, basil, rice, beef, peppers. Blair looked from chopping something green and sharp-smelling on the cutting board and smiled.

"Just give me one second...there." He deftly transferred the leaves into a bowl and came out to greet his lover. Jim's arms wrapped around him, savoring the tactile experience of the solid, heavy warmth leaning against him, and he dropped his head to accept Blair's offer of his mouth. He took his time re-acquainting himself with Blair's heat and taste, noticing some of the same smells he had noticed earlier still lingering in his Guide's mouth.

They broke the kiss by mutual accord, and Jim smiled slightly at Blair as the smaller man playfully nipped at a half-stiff nipple beneath Jim's shirt before pulling free and heading back to the kitchen, checking beneath lids.

"So, what's the occasion?" Jim asked, sniffing again. Yep, that was rosemary. And...something with milk in it? And was that shrimp? He blinked and looked at the busy man hovering over the rice in confusion. Blair was a great cook when he had time--but time was something that had been scarce lately, what with him now working full-time on his dissertation and Jim busier than ever with the yearly 'Bad Guy Season.' Why would he spend so much time on what had obviously been a complicated, time-costly meal?

Then he remembered.

A running track, twelve months earlier. A single grape lollipop, one of the ones he kept with him to give to the kids he had to deal with in his line of work. And an experience that had blown him away, and rebuilt him.

It was their anniversary.

He closed his eyes for a moment against a surge of emotion, then opened them again to see Blair giving him that beautiful grin.

"Yeah," Blair said gently. "I love you too." Abruptly he changed tactics. "Okay, dinner'll be ready in about a half an hour, so you've got time to shower and change. Don't worry about your anniversary gift for me, it's all taken care of," he added. Jim gave Blair a dirty look, and he snickered.

"Thanks, Sandburg," Jim said dryly. "Appreciate that."

Blair snorted. "Yeah, man, like you would have gotten me anything?"

"Hey, I remembered," protested Jim, being gently but firmly propelled out of the kitchen.

Blair gave him a *look,* and Jim gave up. "Okay, then, what did I get for you?"

Blair shook his head. "Going to have to wait," he said smugly. "When you open yours, I'll open mine."

Jim rolled his eyes, cuffed Blair lightly on the side of his head, and headed upstairs. "All right, Chief, we'll do it your way." *You just wait until next year,* he thought, stripping out of his work shirt and slacks and grabbing a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. *I'll get you next year.* He grinned at the thought, as it struck him--next year. Their next anniversary. And the next, and the next...they were together, now. Together.

He liked the sound of that.

He liked the sound of that a lot.

He jogged downstairs, naked except for his boxers, darted into the kitchen to steal a quick kiss from Blair, and headed for the shower. The water streamed over him, and he took his time, soaping himself leisurely and using the scented shampoo he and Blair had found.

It was Blair who had first realized that there was no such thing as 'unscented' to a Sentinel--if he was to be able to live with in the same loft as it, it didn't need to be 'unscented' but it did need to be a scent he could tolerate. They had discovered that Jim could withstand some scents more than others, and juniper had turned out, to both their surprise, to be one he could manage better than most. The same went for virtually everything else in the loft--he and Blair had spent years creating a mosaic of products ranging from furniture polish to detergent that Jim could put up with. Now he lathered up the foam, the strong scent of juniper floating around him, and wondered just what Blair had planned for the night.

When he got out of the bathroom, the loft was dark except for the votives on the coffee table and the lit tapers on the dining room table. Blair was waiting for him, eyes softened and luminous in the candlelight. He smiled when he saw Jim, getting up from the table and coming to meet him halfway. Jim leaned against him as Blair gave him a hard, tight hug, and obediently followed when Blair pulled him forward.

He sat down, caught and held by the elegant dinner Blair had made--saffron rice with red and yellow peppers, and tender beef chunks in a lightly spiced yogurt sauce. Red wine rose in heady, heavy fumes from their wineglasses and the bottle, and Blair's something green and sharp-smelling turned out to be part of a salad that promised to be more interesting than any salad Jim had ever come across before--'rabbit food', he thought bemusedly, had nothing on Blair Sandburg when he wanted to make an impression.

The two men ate in silence, Jim half-closing his eyes to more fully taste the different layers of flavor Blair had incorporated into the deceptively simple meal. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Blair checking him for a zone, resting his hand on his arm, Blair's clean, fresh scent swirling up around him, blue eyes large and dark in the flickering mellow light. Each time Jim simply smiled at him. He couldn't remember a better time--nothing but the most incredible sensations, taste and scent and touch and sight and the soft, rhythmic pulse of Blair's heart, all combining. He felt like he could stay like this forever, lost in the sensations of a night alone with Blair.

His fork clattered against an empty plate, and he was jarred into raising his head to meet Blair's gaze fully. His lover was grinning at him, an unholy light in those clear blue eyes, his own empty plate pushed away from in front of him.

"Always nice to be appreciated," Blair said, chuckling under his breath. "Just hang on, I'll get dessert." He pushed away from the table and stood up, clearing it with brisk, efficient motions. Jim let him, telling himself that he'd do the clean-up to make up for it, but really just trying to hold onto the sensory euphoria he still felt, clinging to the perfection of that amazing dinner.

Behind him the refrigerator opened, a clatter of something ceramic, the door shut. Jim breathed in deeply, trying to scent what Blair had in his hands, and almost choked as the smell hit him.

*No...you've got to be kidding...not even Sandburg would serve...*

Blair reappeared, carrying a large platter with a bright red fish-shaped mold of Jello on it.

*...Jello.*

Jim choked, snickered, and collapsed with laughter, almost cracking his skull on the edge of the table as he doubled over. He felt a whack on his shoulder and brushed it off absently, raising his head and staring at the mold.

*Bright* red. Cherry. And definitely fish-shaped--gills, scales, and all. And very, *very* Jello. Wiggles and all.

*I'm going to kill him,* he thought dimly, trying to stop laughing long enough to breathe. *That little punk is not long for this earth...*

Blair put one hand against his mouth, and Jim could see him fighting not to start laughing, as well. He lifted his head and glared as Blair dropped into the other seat. "What the hell, Sandburg? A dinner like that--candlelight, the whole nine yards--and you bring out *Jello*?!"

Blair smirked, and produced a knife from somewhere, starting to carefully carve up the tail of the...fish. "And why the hell a fish?" Jim demanded, trying to bite back his laughter to enough to make the statement sound like he was actually upset by the incongruity of a five-star dinner with mold Jello for dessert.

Blair almost dropped the knife, chuckling. "Hey, man--*you're* the one who keeps calling me 'Guppy'. I aim to please."

Jim glared again. "I happen to be in love with you, *Guppy.* The same does *not* hold true for a Jello fish!"

Blair gave him an innocent look that couldn't quite erase the impish humor lurking in his eyes. "But, Jim, how can you *not* love something like this? I mean, it wiggles, it jiggles--here," and he cut off a small chunk and placed it on Jim's bare forearm, "it even feels good. See?" He nudged the chunk, setting it to shaking gently on Jim's skin. "Cool, slippery..." He stopped, staring at Jim.

Jim had gone rigid, eyelids drooping as he zoomed in on the sensation of gently shivering pressure on his skin, a cool slick presence, unbelievably erotic, that made him break out in goosebumps. He heard a warm, slightly urgent voice reaching out to him as he focused more fully on touch, and he gave a disgruntled mutter as he grudgingly followed it back.

Blair was staring at him, and Jim realized he had become half-hard, his cock throbbing against his jeans. "Oh, Jesus," he groaned. "Sandburg, what the hell is with you and food anyway--this is crazy--oh god..." he moaned as Blair carefully leaned down and slurped up the morsel, then caressed the spot where it had laid with his warm, slightly rough tongue. Jim shuddered, and almost keened in arousal.

Blair lifted his head, staring at Jim with slightly incredulous eyes, dark with arousal. The scent of musk rose into the air, mingling with the scent of cherries and Jello and making Jim growl. "Jim," Blair began, but was silenced with a kiss, Jim licking delicately at Blair's lips, then following the taste of the Jello into his mouth, suckling on his tongue.

Dimly he recognized that the texture, the taste, the sheer *sensation* was seducing him, pulling him deeper and deeper, making his blood burn. These senses, never anything but trouble--until they showed him the newness, the richness, of what was around him, and then he was helpless. Curiosity mingled with heat in the pit of his stomach, and he shifted to accommodate his erection. He groaned softly into Blair's mouth, trying to nibble to get more of that wonderfully new taste, actually able to *feel* as well as hear Blair's answering moan.

He sensed Blair fumbling around in the space between their bodies, then another piece of Jello touched his forearm, sliding down to lodge and quiver in the vulnerable crook of his elbow. Jim shuddered and gasped around Blair's tongue, and felt Blair reach down to gently nudge it some more, making the morsel dance and shiver. He dropped his head, breaking away from Blair's lips to lean against the curve of his shoulder, shaking as his sense of touch dialed itself to almost painful levels, focused with exquisite precision on the spot where shifting pressure and tantalizing, foreign texture mingled.

"Jesus," whispered Blair. Jim felt the soft pulse of air against his neck, and then felt Blair's fingers tracing patterns around the intensely sensitive skin of the underside of his arm. He yelped, his sense of touch jacked up so high that the calluses on Blair's fingers scraped and scored along his skin. Electricity curled through his body, and he abruptly reached out and yanked Blair to him roughly, stumbling to his feet and forward around the corner of the table so that Blair was pressed against him from neck to knees.

A hand went out blindly, grabbing a handful of the Jello and holding it to Blair's mouth. Blair's tongue came out, and he delicately sucked a piece into his mouth, holding Jim's eyes with his own as he deliberately licked Jim's palm, then bit down, hard. Jim gasped, and with his free hand caught Blair's hair and tilted his head back, mouth coming down to fully explore the taste and texture--stronger, so much stronger now! He was falling, zoning, and he didn't care because it was so new, so strange, and it was only Jello but he was so hard...

In one corner of his mind he recognized the sensations of Blair's palms skimming up and down his sides, squirming between their bodies with uncharacteristic gracelessness to tear at buttons and buckles. He felt cool air swirling against hot skin, another line in the woven tapestry of sensation he was drowning in, and then strong, large hards pushing him firmly away.

He clung to Blair's mouth stubbornly, arching his body to obey his Guide and still retain ownership of the delicious mouth he craved, and felt his pants being shoved down. The fabric scraped awkwardly against uncomfortably sensitive skin, and for a moment his moan was one of pain--then his pants were down, his boxers were down, both were pooled around his ankles, hobbling him, but that was okay because he didn't have the slightest intention of moving and--*shit!*

Oh God. Oh, oh, oh...Jesus--*Blair.*

Blair's hands, covered in Jello, wrapping themselves around his aching shaft and squeezing slightly, stroking, using the Jello as lubricant to ease the maddeningly slow, teasing strokes along the length of his cock. He was avoiding the head, avoiding the flared ridge that was so sensitive--just fingers wrapped around the base, teasing his balls, playing games in his pubic hair, slick and scented with cherries and leaving bits of Jello behind as he explored, bits that teased almost as much as those hands.

He whimpered, uncaring of anything but that he *wanted* more, *needed* more, and that Blair could give that to him, and he bucked into Blair's hands, giving him whatever he wanted as long as Blair gave him *more*. Blair responded by pulling away from Jim's kiss, his eyes alight with mischief and love, sliding down his body in a graceful fall even as Jim reeled from the loss of his anchor. He leaned against Blair's shoulder, felt the muscles under his hand bunch and shift, and then he nearly went to his knees as Blair's warm mouth, filled with soft, wiggling, cool Jello, encased the aching head of his cock.

Jim choked, gasping, trying to find the breath to scream, as Blair's mouth worked it's way up and down, tongue slithering through the maze of dessert and Jim in his mouth to lick and suck at the ridge, the sensitive spot on the underside, the small weeping slit in the tip. It was too much, way, way too much, and he couldn't tell Blair to stop, and he didn't *want* Blair to stop, and a small corner of his mind laughed and observed that this was the first anniversary he had ever enjoyed, and then he was coming, and Blair was swallowing fast to avoid being choked, and the convulsions of Blair's throat and tongue drove him even higher. He finally found the breath, and sobbed as he emptied himself into Blair's generous mouth, and sank to the floor, panting and dizzy.

For a long, long time, all he was aware of was Blair's body next to his, warm and solid, comforting after the incredible sensory overload he had just experienced. He drifted, too exhausted to keep his eyes open, all his muscles mush. He vaguely felt Blair moving with confusing urgency against him, a soft *shush* of cloth on cloth, the *zzzzp* of a zipper, the hurried stroke of skin over skin. There was a violent jerk, and a prolonged shuddering, then Blair lay still, panting lightly, and Jim caught a new scent--Blair's semen.

*Blair didn't come with me?*

He was just berating himself for ignoring his Guide, neglecting his partner's pleasure after Blair had made him feel so good when Blair stirred and tugged his arm.

"M'sorry," Jim slurred, lunging awkwardly to his feet, making Blair stagger as he struggled to stay upright. He turned to Blair, clutching him close, burying his face in the soft dark curls, holding tight in a mute plea for forgiveness.

"It's all right, big guy, you'll just--oof!--owe me one," Blair assured him breathlessly. "Come on, let's get you into the shower..." He nudged at Jim's ankles, scraping off his pants and boxers with the side of his foot.

"Wha..." Jim mumbled, as Blair stripped the rest of his clothes off. "Sand...Blair, are you..."

Blair chuckled. "Yeah, big guy. I'm all right."

"But," Jim protested, as Blair maneuvered him through the door to the bathroom, and Blair cut him off.

"If you feel bad about it, then why don't you make it up to me, okay?" He leaned in and grinned, whispering in Jim's ear as he turned on the water, "You don't know what I had planned for tomorrow night."

The End