Soft. Soft, tender, soft. He'd expected hard, even bruising, but Jim's kisses whispered across his lips like delicate fragile blossoms -- soft, soft, soft.

Blair moaned, wanting more, so much more. Each feather-light kiss, each ghost-like brush of Jim's fingers over his heated skin burned indelibly into his soul, more blistering in their gentle tenderness than a thousand smoldering embraces, more scalding than a million searing gazes.

How had he ever lived without this -- this delicious sensation blazing through fevered flesh to the core of his being, filling him with exquisite knowledge how he was loved and cherished.

Sharp painful joy welled up from deep within Blair's soul, overwhelming in its intensity, iridescent in its exaltation. His body arched up to mold into Jim, each inch of skin against each inch.

Jim's arms tightened around Blair, flipping them over, leaving Blair draped limp and breathless over Jim. Shivering slightly against the cool air, Blair clung to Jim, nuzzling into the warmth of the solid chest, but Jim's hands gently but firmly guided him to sit up, legs straddling Jim's hips. And Jim shifted so their swollen lengths fell heavily one against the other, and Blair gasped as silk slid against silk, and Jim gathered them both in his hand -- so big, so warm and capable -- and Blair moaned, bringing his own hands down to clasp over Jim's hand, his fingers entwining with Jim's -- and oh, their hands were moving together, slowly, sliding softly around their joined flesh, soft, smooth, hard, smooth, slick, smooth -- and oh, this was good, so good, so so good, but he wanted more, wanted more, more, so much more.

He grasped Jim's hand and pushed it away, and Jim looked up, questioning, and he looked down into Jim, held Jim's hand and slowly brought it around...

Jim's eyes widened, and he shook his head sharply, but Blair hung on to the hand, pushing and pulling, until it was right there, Jim's fingers were right there, and Jim's eyes closed, and his fingers started softly rubbing, so Blair relaxed his hold and let go.

Soft, gentle, so soft... Blair closed his eyes and bit back the moan welling from deep within him, fingers clenching into tight fists. Unable to brace his body against the gentle assault, he collapsed spinelessly onto Jim, and Jim's fingers stayed right with him, still gently circling, the pressure increasing slowly, gradually, with infinite care.

And Blair hadn't known gentleness could kill, that it could eat you alive and leave you hollow inside, but now he knew, and now he needed so much to be filled, to be whole. He whimpered, shamelessly begging, pushing openly against Jim's fingers, and Jim's arms tightened around him, holding him still. Jim moved a hand to cradle his head, tucking him securely against the hollow of Jim's shoulder, and Jim breathed low shushing noises against Blair's ear as his finger pressed...

Blair jerked, hissing sharply against the burning invasion, and Jim stilled immediately, ready to pull away, but Blair was faster, grabbing Jim's hand and holding it tight. Their eyes met. Jim looked into Blair, concerned and questioning, and Blair just tugged Jim's hand insistently, begging, pleading. Doubt and desire warred in Jim's eyes, overtaken finally by solemn tenderness.

A hand briefly but gently cupped Blair's face, then Jim was levering them up until they both sat on the bed, and he reached past Blair for the bedside drawer. Blair flushed, thinking of what Jim was seeking, and turned away, unable to look. The slide of the drawer seemed to cut through his flesh, the sound of things being shifted bounced against his bones, then the drawer was closing with a soft click, and Jim's arms wrapped around his shoulders, pulling him back into a solid embrace.

Soft, tender, soft. Jim's kisses rained across Blair's shoulder, up the back of his neck, gentle nibbles to his ear, hands rubbing soothing caresses along his shoulders and down his chest. With a low moan, Blair let his head fall back against Jim's shoulder, and Jim bent forward, nuzzling down the proffered throat, sucking softly along Blair's adam's apple. And Blair sighed, relaxing into Jim's embrace, and Jim's hand slid down to cup Blair's balls, and he just held them, weighing them lightly against his hand, just holding on, for a long minute.

And nobody had ever just held him like this, made him feel full and cherished and wanted with just being held, safe and alive and content to bask in the warmth of another's soul.

Jim's lips sought his mouth, firmer now, more insistent. Blair reached out with his tongue, wanting the contact, the taste, and Jim's tongue met him, tangling, sliding, soft, firm, soft, and Blair drank it in, savoring, swallowing -- each stroke, each glide filling him with more of Jim, leaving him yearning for more.

Then Jim was pulling away, guiding Blair down onto the bed. Blair wanted to see Jim, but didn't, and then it didn't matter, because Jim's body was covering him, shielding him, comforting him, Jim's hands rubbing soothing caresses all the way up and down his body, and he just relaxed into the mattress and buried his face into the pillow, mellowing in the sensation. And when Jim pulled away, he closed his eyes and listened to the rustle of foil, the snap of a cap, felt the mattress shift along with Jim's movements, and waited.

Jim's hands were firm on his hips, his movements deliberately intent as he guided them both into position. Blair felt Jim slide over his back, felt the smooth firm length glide across his butt before slipping into place, the round head blunt against him as it sought the correct angle, and he lay still, beyond thinking, beyond even feeling, and Jim slid one hand off Blair's hip to hold himself steady and pushed.

Blair's body tensed, automatically bracing, resisting, then gave way with a sudden pop!. Blair gasped, crying out as the sharp ripping pain echoed through his body, filling, stretching, burning, the pressure inexorably building, pressing forward, expanding -- and oh, Jim was there, trembling arms holding him tight, pressed against his back, burning skin against burning skin -- and it was Jim, Jim filling him, opening him up, ripping him apart and putting him back together again. A sob welled up from Blair's throat and escaped harshly into the air, and Jim gasped and clutched Blair tight and held perfectly still, their heartbeats thrumming through each other's veins and their rough breaths heavy against each other's skin. And gradually the pain ebbed and the tension receded and god Jim was in him and over him and around him, and Blair drew a shuddering breath and Jim drew a breath in response and suddenly their bodies slid and Jim slipped the rest of the way in with a startled grunt.

Soft, tender, searing. Jim pressed kisses against Blair's back, cradling him like a wild fluttering bird, each soft touch burning in its gentleness, scalding in its care. Blair moaned, pinned by Jim's weight, by the hot heavy shaft impaling him, and Jim moved, a mere shift of muscles, and Blair felt Jim's balls roll against him, and he shifted, and Jim shifted, and then Jim began moving, slight undulations back and forth, back and forth, and the slow hissing burn inside Blair built and spread, expanding until the whole world was just those few inches where he and Jim were joined, where Jim was rubbing against him and in him, and oh he was burning and burning and burning, pressed into the mattress, impaled, penetrated, invaded, opened, tiny little sobs torn from his mouth as Jim picked up speed, picked up rhythm, engulfing him, consuming him, overwhelming him, the momentum inexorably building, rising, inflaming, expanding, tearing, blazing -- and everything went white.

Quiet. Peace. Satiation.

Blair drowsed against the soft steady rhythm of Jim's breath, held in the embrace of a somnolent sun.