Rating: NC-17

Warnings: Written in first person.

I'd better start at the beginning, with Sandburg. More often than not, things start with Sandburg.

I'm not sure when I fell in love with him, certainly by that whole Golden drug case, I'd fallen, big time. I wanted to hold him, to give him someone to hold on to; to be his anchor the way he is mine. I wanted to tell him when we got back from Sierra Verde, but he was so pissed off with everything and everybody and, okay, I wasn't all sweetness and light myself, so I never did. Then there was his press conference and I still didn't tell him. I convinced myself he'd run for the hills.

So here we are two cops, partners, best friends, and roommates. One neo-hippy- witchdoctor/guide-shaman and one repressed-caveman throwback/sentinel with fear based responses. I was sitting reading the local evening paper, when Sandburg comes in bouncing with energy as usual, throws his keys into the basket, hangs his jacket up and bounces down on the couch beside me. He's talking all the while but I'm only half listening because he's shucked off his sneakers and put his white sock-clad feet on the table. I'm just about to tell him to move them off when he wiggles his toes and sighs. That movement -- that sound -- it causes all the blood to drain down to my cock which begins to play close attention.

I could feel myself slipping into one hell of a zone, but I wouldn't -- couldn't -- not on Blair's feet, so I pulled myself together, rolled up the newspaper and in a voice that sounded strained even to my ears, told him to get his feet "off the furniture now" as I hit them with the paper.

He griped, as usual, about my house rules but he had that twinkle in his eyes, which meant neither of us would take it seriously, and I went back to the paper. Not that I was reading any longer, I was too busy worrying. I'd thought of sucking Sandburg's nipples, even his cock, now I was contemplating sucking his toes, one by one, licking, kissing, sucking them and getting more aroused just thinking about it. Ye gods and little fishes, I've got it sooo bad.

I wanted him to go out just so I could relax again. So it was a relief when he got up, went into his room, changed and then left, saying something about seeing me later as he disappeared out the door. I couldn't even tell you where he was going. I wasn't really listening.

I assumed he'd be out for the evening and I had a plan, sort of.

Which brings me back to what I said earlier, I am not kinked. I just wanted to try out something. I could have used a pair of his old pants but that would have been... well, you know. I went and got the pair of socks he'd just dumped in the laundry basket and took them upstairs.

I could claim temporary insanity I suppose.

Anyway, I put one of his socks on my pillow and sat on the bed. I undid my trousers, pulled them and my boxers off and undid the buttons on my shirt. Then I put Sandburg's other sock on my hand and got myself comfortable on the bed.

I thought I could filter out the sweaty feet and sneaker smells and focus on the underlining Blair-ness. That would stop me from zoning. So I wrapped my sock-clad hand round my cock and closed my eyes. With the essence of Blair in my nose, I could just about imagine his hand instead of mine stroking me, teasing me, the texture of the sock giving me extra stimulation. It was all good. My other hand stroked and pulled first at one nipple then the other. I drew a deep breath of Blair's scent. I didn't have to even think about what I was doing, I could just feel and imagine Blair feeling me... and I was gone; not zoned, just gone....

Unfortunately I was too far gone to hear Sandburg come in. Too far gone to stop moaning. Too far gone to hear him call up or to hear him come up the stairs. It was only after I'd climaxed, when my senses came back on line that I recognized his heart beat going faster than normal and sounding very close to my bed.

He was standing there staring at me. "Jim?" He paused, hesitantly. "I'll, em, wait down stairs for you to..." He waved his hand at me and turned away, practically running down the stairs.

I wanted the ground to swallow me up. I haven't felt this embarrassed since Sally caught me masturbating in my room when I was twelve.

I balled up the socks and cleaned myself up a bit. I then pulled on my underwear and trousers, and went down to face the music.

He was sitting on the arm of the couch just looking down at his clasped hands, 'processing' I guess. I couldn't see that expressive face, so I had no idea what was going through his mind. But I had to say something to break the silence.

"Blair, I don't know what to say. I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me." Like hell I didn't!

He looked up then, an odd expression in his eyes. "So Jim, do you have a sock fetish you've never told me about, or is it just my socks?" He stood up. "I know technically it's none of my business, but then you were using my socks, weren't you?"

That's my guide, cut straight to the chase, and while I was trying to come up with a good answer, he started walking towards me, no, make that stalking me, swinging his hips just a little. At this stage, my mouth had gone dry and I couldn't think of one word. I had this insane urge to step back, maybe to giggle. Can you imagine me giggling?!

Blair Sandburg was in my space, looking up at me, poking his finger at my chest. "Or maybe, Jim Ellison, you have a thing for me?"

Then he puts one arm round my neck and with the other pulls my head down to meet his and ... his mouth is on mine. I don't even think of resisting, I couldn't. This is my chief (no pun intended) fantasy come true. My hands rise to the back of his head; I wrap my fingers through his curls and pull him even closer. He gasps against my lips and I devour his mouth.

The need to breathe forces us apart an inch.

"Wow!"

"That's a good wow, isn't it Chief?"

"Oh yeah!" and his mouth comes back to meet mine. His right hand has moved down to rub my cock which is fast getting interested again. My jeans are getting tight, and I have to pull my head away and moan.

He starts to tug off my shirt, his mouth moves down to seek a nipple and he licks then sucks it.

"Please, please, Chief. Let's move this somewhere else." I'm pleading. My legs are about to give out and if this is going where I think it's going, I really need to sit down.

"Your bed or mine?" he asks.

"Mine, it's bigger."

"I like that plan. I can really go with that plan."

He moves towards the stairs and suddenly I have to ask. "Sandburg. Blair, stop. Wait." And he does. He turns and the color's gone from his face. He thinks I've changed my mind.

I can't stand that and I walk towards him. "You're sure about this? You've never shown any sign of wanting a guy, least of all me."

"Oh, Jim, this goes so far beyond just wanting, and you never said anything either."

There's a flicker of something, hope maybe, dawning on his face. I'm close enough to touch and I tilt his chin up so I can see those beautiful eyes.

"Good old fear based responses, Sandburg." I whisper before lowering my head enough to kiss him again. I could get addicted to this, just this taste, this sensation. At this stage he could ask for anything and I'd gladly give it to him, the keys to my truck, my Santana collection, yeah, like he'd want that! - anything at all. Well he already has my heart and by the feel of it, he's staking a claim on my tonsils. Mind you, I'm trying the same thing on his!

Any questions, doubts, have fled, at least for the moment and I'm backing him up the stairs trying not to lose touch with his mouth nor stumble on the steps.

We're both dizzy by the time we reach the top. I'd like to think that was caused by more than lack of oxygen, but then I'd have to run a few tests of my own. Right now, all I want is a naked Blair on my bed, filled with desire for me and by me.

"Naked, Jim. Let's get naked." He's already stripping as he speaks. Me? Oh I know people complain I'm compulsively tidy, but right now my clothes just stay where they fall, if fact I'm not aware of taking them off. And now I can look at him, really look and he's doing the same. His eyes studying my body like a much-desired book.

Both of us are sweaty. Both of us are panting. I can see his skin glistening. The sweat is trapped in his chest hairs; little drops of moisture that catch the light as he breaths. I follow the line of hair down past the little buds that are becoming more pronounced under my gaze, down to his beautiful, perfect cock.

Beautiful and perfect are not words I usually use when describing another guy's cock, but with Sandburg you end up using words like that and he is beautiful and perfect; inside and out, to me. I've just never been able to say the words out loud.

His hand comes into my eye line as he reaches for my hand and I lift my eyes to his face. "I want to make love with you," he whispers.

I nod. Thank god he's the one with the words. I'm more a man of action so I pull him close and just hold him, relishing the feel of his skin in contact with mine. I stoke his hair, his neck, his back. He's working on my neck, sucking at one sweet spot. His hands are doing some exploring of their own. Did I say I could get addicted to his kiss? This is so much more and yet not enough.

I pull back a little to look at him and he pulls my head down for another soul sharing kiss.

Somewhere along the line we end up on the bed and I find myself under him as he begins to learn about my body with his hands and lips. He's describing, in between kisses, licks and sucks, how much he's wanted this, me, for how long and what he wants to do with me. All I can do is whimper and moan. I'm so near, as soon as he reaches my cock, I'm going to come and I want this to last. I want to make it good for him too. So I'm begging, pleading with him to stop.

He pulls back, his face concerned and I put my hand on his arm. "I just want to get my breath," and he grins.

Suddenly I want to wipe that grin off his face so I grab him and now he's underneath me and he's still grinning.

"This is so much better than my old sock, eh big guy?" he says pushing his hips up so I can feel his arousal against mine.

I can't help it, I chuckle. "Blair Sandburg, you are incorrigible!" and he laughs out loud. It's such a joyous sound, full of life and, I think, twinged with relief. I want to hear him make more sounds like that. I want to make him whimper and moan.

Later we'll talk about this new dimension to our relationship; work out the perimeters, like sleeping arrangements. I hope he'll move up here. I don't want to sleep alone again after this. And any other changes we need to make; I am still not picking up his wet towels from the bathroom floor. But right now I want to concentrate on making him want to come back for more and keep 'coming' again and again, so I start working my way down his body.

There are times when I really, really enjoy having these enhanced senses. I can tell what just turns him on (just about every thing) and what drives him just this side of crazy, and how long I can hold him there. On the other hand, the sight of him has me on the edge. His head's thrown back. His hair's spread out on the pillow. His eyes are closed tight. His mouth is open and he's panting. Every now and then I can make out a word; "yes... Jim. Oh god. Jim, yes there." I can smell his arousal. Taste the salty sweat on his body, and, oh my God, the feel of him.... Let's just say that it's a good thing I came earlier. I can hold on a little longer, not much longer, but a bit.

I'm nudging his cock with my nose. The scent of him is stronger here and my tongue snakes out to lick the underside. He moves his leg and his foot brushes against my cock. It's like an electric current. I need to take a break so I sit up and he opens his eyes to see what I'm doing. God, when did his eyes get so full of lust and desire? I swallow and then lick my fingers, covering them with saliva. Those eyes widen as he watches me and he moans.

That spurs me on. I lean down and lick that stately organ with it's pearl of pre-come. A man in love has the right to go all poetic, ok? Well, maybe not out loud. Then I enclose his cock in my mouth. As his hips come off the bed I'm ready. My finger rims and then slips into him. He gasps, "Yes! Oh please." as he alternates between fucking himself in my mouth and on my fingers. He closes his eyes tightly again.

I think I'm holding up well. He begs for more so I give him more, two, and then a third finger. He's on the brink, I can tell because I am too. Then he suddenly opens his eyes and yells, "For Christ sake, Jim, FUCK ME!" But it's too much and I come all over the bed. Thankfully I have the presence of mind to release his cock or I'd have a seriously pissed off and sore guide to take to hospital, and you try telling a doctor why there are bite marks on your best friend's dick!

It takes me a long while to refocus. I realize that somehow I took him along with me for the ride because I'm staring at his now flaccid cock and there's come on his body. I know mine didn't reach that far! He's panting, trying to get oxygen back into his lungs.

I can't resist; I lean over and lick the sticky mess from his body.

"Hey, man" he pants, "not that I don't love what you're doing, but I really think you're wasting your time. No way I can get it up for a while, not even for you."

I chuckle round the skin I'm peppering with kisses. "Ah the young today, no stamina."

He scoffs, "Give me around ten, fifteen minutes and I'll show you stamina, lover."

His voice has that husky quality about it and I look up into his eyes. Just when I thought I'd had it for the night, my cock twitches and a deep groan escapes from somewhere in my chest.

He grins again at the sound. "And to think we have my socks to thank for this." He says quietly. His eyes twinkle and his grin grows wider. "I wonder what would have happened if you'd found my stockings..."