This is the first of my auction stories. Sorka wanted a first time story, 
camping, and sex in the woods on moss covered ground. Here you go, m'dear.

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Second Try
by Lianne Burwell
September 1998
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Blair stood at the door to the Loft, foot tapping impatiently. His bag 
was on his back, and he was twirling his fishing spear in one hand. Jim's 
bag was on the floor, next to him, and the camping gear was already 
loaded in the truck. He blew a sigh of exasperation as he watched Jim 
checking all the doors and windows... *again*.

But he couldn't blame Jim for being so careful. They'd originally planned 
on going camping the week before, but an urgent phone call from one of 
Jim's old army team had resulted in Jim being kidnapped by Colonel 
Oliver, the man responsible for his crash in Peru, and Blair had spent 
most of the next twenty-four hours being chased by 'men in black' who 
*seriously* wanted him dead.

*Finally* Jim looked happy with the loft's security, and came towards 
Blair.

"It's about time, man," Blair said, opening the door. "Let's get out of 
here before something goes wrong."

"Right behind you, Chief."

Jim was about to lock the door behind him when they heard it. The phone 
was ringing inside. Jim thumped his forehead against the door a couple 
times.

"We *could* just ignore it," Blair suggested in a hopeful tone. For a 
moment, he though the cop would buy it, but Jim sighed, and opened the 
door. The phone kept ringing, until he picked it up.

"Hello? Oh, hi Simon. Uh-huh? No. Yes. Of course, Simon. Will do."

He hung up, and Blair braced himself to hear that something had come up, 
and they were going to have to delay the fishing trip *again*. Jim smiled.

"Simon just wanted to tell us to try to stay out of trouble, this time. 
He doesn't want any calls from cops, rangers or hospitals."

"Fine. Now, can we get out of here? *Before* that thing rings again?"

Jim quickly locked the door, and they were off. Time to get the hell out 
of Dodge.

* * * * *

Jim banked the fire for the night. A quick check with his senses said 
that there was no one for miles, other than small and harmless critters.

They had gotten to their campsite, just before dusk, with just enough 
time to set up. Jim found it amusing that Blair, whose room and office 
looked like they'd been hit by matching tornadoes, was a neat-freak when 
camping. Food was carefully placed out of reach of animals. The area 
around the fire had been cleared to almost double the recommended 
distance, and carefully examined for *anything* flammable. The fire was 
ringed with stones. He had even carefully dug a small trench for them to 
use as a toilet, with the dirt carefully piled to use to fill the trench 
when they left on Sunday. He was going to have to remember this for the 
next time that Blair left the bathroom looking like a disaster zone.

When the fire in no danger of flaring, but should be easy to resurrect in 
the morning, Jim changed into his sleep-gear, and climbed into his 
sleeping bag. Next to him, in the tiny tent, Blair was already asleep. 
Blair had been working overtime, all week. Sometimes, Jim wondered where 
the kid got all the energy.

Jim relaxed, and focused his senses on his partner. The light scent of 
Blair's herbal shampoo, the heat from his body, the comforting sound of 
his heart beating, and the slightly raspy sound of his breathing wove 
together to create a comforting security blanket.

While he was in the hospital, waiting to make sure that the last of the 
drug that Oliver had given him had flushed out of his system, Simon had 
told him about what had happened to Blair while he'd been gone. The late 
call wondering were Jim was. Blair saying that someone was coming in. The 
sound of a silenced gun firing. Oliver's goons had tried several times to 
kill Blair, and had put his friend at the university, Jack Kelso, in the 
hospital. While he'd been worried about getting away, stopping Oliver, 
he'd almost lost Blair. That scared the hell out of him.

But Blair was safe, and he was going to do his best to keep him that way. 
Jim took a deep breath, and let the soothing sound of his partner's 
breathing lull him to sleep.

* * * * *

The next morning dawned, clear and sunny - the perfect camping weather. 
They spent the morning fishing. Jim couldn't help thinking that it was a 
good thing that they weren't in a 'catch and release' area. Blair's spear-
fishing technique turned out to be surprisingly effective, but the holes 
in the sides of the fish he caught would probably make swimming rather 
difficult.

After a lunch where Blair tried out some of his primitive-conditions 
recipes for fish, the two men decide to go hiking. Amazingly enough, the 
weather had stayed clear, an unusual event for the Pacific Northwest.

They started out, quickly falling into a comfortable silence. Words were 
unnecessary. Instead, they just soaked up the silence, and enjoyed the 
company.

* * * * *

"Hold it, man. Break time."

Jim stopped, and turned to see Blair drop to the ground, breathing 
heavily. He laughed.

"Getting out of shape, Chief?"

Blair flipped him the finger, with a laugh, then let his hand flop back 
to the ground. "Give me a break. It's been a long week. Besides, you 
should learn to relax more. C'mon," he said, patting the moss next to 
him. "Take a load off."

Jim smiled, but finally dropped his bag, and settled down next to Blair. 
For a while they just lay there, staring up at the ever-shifting patterns 
of light through the leaves.

"Y'know," Blair suddenly said, in a conversational tone, "a few years 
back, I read a children's book about two kids who find a wizard's manual. 
In it, the manual says that everything talks, if you learn to understand 
it. The movement of leaves was the way that the trees talk, and if you 
watch long enough, you begin to understand it."

Jim shook his head. Strangely enough, despite Blair's ever-youthful 
enthusiasm, he'd never pictured the young man reading a children's book. 
Somehow, he'd had a vision of a five year old, curly haired tot reading a 
dusty old tome.

He took a deep breath. The air was filled with the scents and tastes of 
the woods. It smelt... green. That was the only way he could describe it. 
The earthy scents of dirt and decaying vegetation. The fresh scents of 
leaves and sap. The pungent smell of the crushed moss that they were 
lying on. Not quite the same as Peru, but similar.

And overlaying it all was the scent of Blair. His senses seemed to want 
to zero in on his partner first, no matter where they were. He had 
noticed that, for the first time, several months ago. He didn't worry 
about it, though. Somehow it seemed... right.

"You know, Chief," Jim said, not quite sure how to say what he needed to 
say. "When I was in the hospital, Simon told me. About you being chased. 
The bus. What happened at the university..."

"I know, I shouldn't have gone," Blair jumped in. "I should have stayed 
at the station, like Simon wanted. It was a foolish risk, but I couldn't 
stay back and do nothing..."

"No, that's not what I mean. I mean... I realized... I could have lost 
you, and not even known about it until later. And I realized that I never 
told you..." Jim paused, trying to figure out how to say it. "I never 
told you how much you mean to me. How much I need you. I just didn't want 
you to think that I didn't..."

"I knew."

At the confident tone, Jim rolled over to find Blair looking at him, a 
smile on his lips. The light, filtered through the leaves, caught in his 
hair, turning it into a halo. It caught in his eyes as well, making the 
blue seem deeper, somehow. It made him... beautiful. It wasn't a term 
that Jim was accustomed to associating with another man, but it was the 
best one that he could come up with.

Those blue eyes seemed to suck him, drawing him closer. Almost without 
conscious thought, Jim's hand came up to cup a whiskery cheek. Blair's 
smile got wider, so Jim leaned over and kissed him.

Kissing his partner was another thing he'd never actually thought about, 
but it seemed right. Equally right was that his partner would kiss him 
back. They rolled towards each other, and pressed together; chest to 
chest, thigh to thigh, groin to groin.

Jim ran his finger's through Blair's hair, dialing up his sense of touch 
until he feel every strand, even every split end. He shivered. Dimly, he 
could feel Blair tugging at his shirt, pulling it out of his pants. Then 
strong hands were stroking his back. Jim heard a sound, and wondered if 
that was really *him* making those purring noises.

The feel of Blair's hands on his skin gave him the urge to do the same. 
He pulled away, and started unbuttoning Blair's shirt. Amazingly enough, 
Blair wasn't wearing a t-shirt under the flannel, for once. He pulled it 
open, and admired the strong chest that he'd only seen in passing, while 
bandaging ribs, or while its owner was rushing from bedroom to bathroom 
or the reverse.

But opening the shirt wasn't enough. Chewing on the inside of his cheek, 
he reached to undo Blair's jean. The button was undone, and the zipper 
was lowered. Then, in one motion, he pulled them, and the briefs 
underneath, down to mid-thigh.

Jim pulled back slightly so that he could admire the sight. Blair was 
stretched out against a green background, red flannel shirt spread open, 
revealing a hair-covered chest that left him just a little jealous. Jeans 
and underwear had been pulled down just far enough to allow Blair's 
erection to stand proud, lifting up out a thick nest of dark curls. The 
sunlight added glowing highlights to the sensuous picture that the young 
man made.

He looked edible. That was all that Jim could think. He looked so edible 
that Jim had to taste. Every bit of flesh that was revealed, starting 
from the neck and moving down, was nibbled, licked and sucked, until he 
reached the ultimate goal, and he paused a moment. Could he do this? More 
importantly, could he do this *right*?

There was only one way to find out. He growled, deep in the back of the 
throat, and ducked his head to taste the heart of Blair.

Salt, bitter. strange texture. Familiar, from himself, but very 
different. He went to work, trying to catalogue all of the differences, 
all the similarities. Up, above him, he could hear Blair moan. The pants, 
still binding his legs, and an arm across the hips, worked to keep Blair 
in place as he continued his exploration. The tip was probed, with an 
pointed tongue, causing a strangled gasp. Then Jim ran his tongue down 
the underside of Blair's cock, tracing the pattern of veins, until he 
reached the base. There, he nuzzled at the tightened balls, inhaling the 
heady scent of Blair's musk, a scent that he had only experienced from a 
distance, and diluted by the scent of others.

He pulled back for a moment, then wrapped his lips around the head, and 
pressed forward... forward... forward. When the tip of Blair's erection 
hit the back of his throat, he pulled away, resisting the urge to gag. 
Then he pressed forward again.

He didn't master the art of relaxing his throat enough to take Blair all 
the way in at once, but he looked forward to practicing until he could. 
Besides, Blair didn't seem to mind. The string of unintelligible babble 
coming from above him seemed to indicate a fair amount of enjoyment on 
the young man's part, and the fluid that soon filled his mouth just 
reinforced that impression.

Blair was limp and panting, when Jim released his shrinking cock, licking 
it clean first. Then he moved up to lie next to Blair. His jeans were 
unbearably tight, but he was content to just look for a moment. The smile 
on Blair's face was blinding, of a type he'd never seen before on his 
partner. Jim reached out a finger to trace it, hoping that he would see 
it more often in the future.

Blair opened his mouth, and sucked in the tracing finger. A steady 
suction soon had Jim moaning, and he protested when the finger was 
released. He opened his eyes, and saw Blair discarding his already half-
removed clothing. Then Blair was on top of him, tugging at Jim's 
clothing, pulling his shirt up over his head, and carefully removing his 
constricting jeans and underwear. Jim lay back, letting Blair look to his 
heart's content.

The feel of the slightly damp moss against his back soon had him 
squirming. The contrast between the cool greenery, and the heat of his 
partner was driving him insane. Then, Blair upped the torture by 
repeating Jim's actions of earlier, and Jim forgot everything else.

Every bit of flesh was examined, with fingers, lips and tongue, until Jim 
thought that he would go insane. Then, just as he couldn't take it 
anymore, Blair proved that *he* had no trouble suppressing *his* gag 
reflex. Just as he was reaching the totally mindless stage, he felt a 
finger reach beneath him, and press into him. Jim gasped at the 
sensation, as the finger moved in and out, rubbing his sensitive insides. 
Then, he felt it reach his prostate, and rub once, twice...

Jim arched up so hard that he could feel his back protest, and he came in 
great spurts, harder than he could even remember coming before. Why had 
he never tried this before? He didn't care, but he wanted to do it again, 
and again, and again. Once he recovered, that was.

Jim sighed, relaxing into the moss. He couldn't stifle a protest as 
Blair's finger slipped out of him. Blair was already half-erect again.

"Blair..." he sighed, spreading his legs in an open invitation. 

"No," Blair said, open regret on his face, reaching for his pants. "No 
condoms."

"Don't need 'em."

"No lube, and we *do* need that. Besides, *that* should happen at home, 
in bed. *Our* bed."

Jim grinned. He liked the sound of that. "Our bed," he agreed.

Blair was right, he realized. Their first time should be slow and 
deliberate. He started planning a romantic dinner, with candles and 
music, followed by a leisurely night of play, on silk sheets. Definitely 
a better idea.

They picked themselves up, and headed back to camp. He had plans for his 
partner.

* * * * *

First thing Monday morning, and Simon was already about to chew through 
his cigar. He just wished that he was allowed to light it, but the 
building was touted as being 'smoke free', so that was out. The mayor was 
already on his back over a series of high-profile robberies over the 
weekend. Unfortunately, there were no leads yet.

But things were looking up, since his best team was just coming through 
the door. If Ellison couldn't find a clue, then there weren't any to 
find. Simon noted that both men were looking relaxed, smiles plastered 
all over their faces.

"Well, you two look like you had a good weekend," Simon said from his 
office doorway. "No trouble, I take it?"

"Nope. No trouble," Ellison said in a self-satisfied tone.

"None at all," Sandburg chimed in, sounding unbearably smug. Simon 
frowned for a second.

"Glad to hear it. There's a new case waiting on your desk, so how about 
getting some work done."

He watched them head for Ellison's desk, trying to figure out why they 
seemed... different. They sat down, and Ellison picked up the file 
folder. He looked over to where Sandburg had sat down, swinging his feet 
up onto the end of the desk, and the two men smiled at each other.

So, they finally figured it out, Simon thought to himself, starting to 
feel a little smug, himself.

Then he headed back to his desk. He still had a job, and it wasn't 
getting done by standing around.

THE END