Tangled Up in Sheets

Jim watched until the jet took off safely and aimed itself towards Chicago. Blair was on it, probably bopping to some music playing on his headphones until he could use his laptop again. He'd be at this conference for two weeks.

Now what? He could go home and give the loft a thorough cleaning, and make himself something cholesterol laden and unhealthy for dinner. He could revel in being *alone* for the first time in God knew how long.

He could spend some time *not* pretending to be someone else, not pretending to feel or to *not* feel something. He could, by God, go out and pick up an actual *guy*.

Why, oh, why, did the most adorable, infuriating guy in the world have to be so damn straight?

He shook his head and started to walk out of the airport. Where could he go tonight? He'd left the scene when he'd done that damnfool thing of marrying Carolyn, and once Blair was safely and frustratingly ensconsed in his spare room, he'd had no time to go back.

Well, there was this club on Stonewall St. He was still considering when he bumped into a wall of pure muscle, about as tall as he was.

"Ooops, sorry."

"No...problem." The wall of muscle stepped back and resolved itself into a perfectly stunning man, with piercing gray eyes, dark hair and a beautiful half-grin under, of all things, a fedora.

Otherwise, the man was wearing a sweater and a pair of nicely fitting blue jeans. *Very* nicely fitting.

And he was giving *Jim* a once over himself. Jim licked his lips.

"When is your...flight?"

Fedora smiled. "I'm...arriving. You?"

"Dropping someone off. You here for business...or pleasure?" Not breaking eye contact - not wanting to lose that incredible pair of eyes just level with his own - Jim berated himself for the cliche.

"I'm...open to opportunities." The grin widened and the man was now frankly leering at him.

"You got any place you need to be?" Jim licked his lips again and smoothed back his hair.

"Nope. Not tonight. Tonight I'm...free."

Jim could smell the other man's arousal. Oh, God, it had been *far* too long. "Need...a place to stay?"

"Maybe. Depends."

"On what?"

"You."

"My name's Jim."

"I'm Montana."

*He's a total stranger. I just picked up a total stranger at an airport and I'm taking him to the loft. Why doesn't that bother me?* "Got any luggage to pick up?"

Montana grinned some more and slung a backback over his shoulder. To Jim's surprise, there was a coiled whip attached to the bag. "I got *all* I need right here. Now, where would your car be?"

Jim led the way to the parking lot and the truck. As they walked through the airport, he could *feel* the eyes on them both. *Yeah. He's mine for tonight. Get your own hunk.*

"That's some truck, Jim. Nice *big* bed."

"Got a bigger one at home." Jim winked. "Just toss your bag right in here."

"What else do you have that's...big?" Montana did as he was told with smiled.

"You'll find out."

The parking lot was completely empty. Their eyes met once again, and both moved swiftly, grinding their bodies together. "Oh, babe, your parents named you *right*."

"Skies aren't the only thing *big* there. Oh, God, Jim..." Montana seized Jim's lips and rammed his tongue halfway down his throat.

Jim reached under the man's shirt, feeling the play of muscles under his skin. It had been *far* too long. Yes...he found the small, hard nipple and Montana moaned. Jim could have gotten high just on his musk alone.

"Jim...not that I'm...ohhh...complaining, guy, but...let's get this show on the road...oh, yeah..." Reluctantly, Jim nodded and pulled away. He gave Montana a final squeeze, down where it counted - yeah, as big as the state - and started his engine. His truck engine.

"Nice place, Jim. All yours?"

"Got a roommate. *Just* a roommate, sad to say."

"Oh?"

"Guy I was seeing off...to make room for *you*."

"Bedroom's up there?"

They ran upstairs as quickly as their states of arousal permitted. They swiftly undressed. Jim watched Montana's body move as he unbuttoned his shirt and all but wriggled out of those tight jeans. "Leave your hat on, babe."

"Only if you keep those socks, tiger."

"Oh, yeah..."

Then they were on the bed together. Jim could feel him, hard and muscular and strong, move against him, with him, the sheets tangling in their legs. He began to nuzzle at Montana's neck, kissing and licking his way down that wonderful, *male* body, tasting the salty musk of his skin and sweat, sucking on the firm, tiny nipples, teasing them to peaks and biting very, very gently. Montana moaned and grasped Jim's hair in one hand and snaked the other down to stroke his own penis, as hard as a rock beneath Jim's stomach.

Jim grinned and kissed his way back up, replacing Montana's hand with him own, and moaning when he felt his arousal grasped and pulled, and capturing that mouth again. He let his tongue taste every bit of his mouth, gasping and moaning all the while.

They moved and rolled together on the mattress, getting still more tangled, and then Jim found himself quite happily on his back, with Montana grinning at him. Jim answered it with his own smile and a nod.

He lay back with his hands behind his neck. When he felt the first nibbles on his nipples he nearly jumped for pure, glorious sensation, as he watched the fedora bob up and down. Then Montana was kneeling over him. Jim happily opened his mouth and took the man in as far as he could go, letting the taste of the other man fill him and take him over. He used his tongue to probe and lick and then sucked, first gently, then hard then gently again. He moved one hand down to touch himself and used the other to fondle the testicles just brushing his chin.

He would have happily stayed that way, but Montana had other ideas. He slowly pulled out of Jim's mouth with a sigh. Jim answered the question his eyes by nodding toward the night table. Montana grinned and pulled out lube and condoms.

Meanwhile, Jim lay back and pulled his legs apart and his knees up.

"Oh, tiger...all for me?"

"Yeah, babe. All yours."

Jim moaned as the skillful fingers, wet with lube, filled and stretched him gently. It hurt a little - it had been *far* too long since he'd even played with his toys - but it felt *so* good. He moved himself on those fingers, aching for more and more.

And then...then there was more. He felt the large head not-quite-force its way into his too-tight opening. He'd be wonderfully sore the next day, he knew it, as he was finally filled to capacity, as Montana slowly pushed his way in, until Jim could feel the other man's body tight against his own.

They both began to move. Jim wrapped his legs around Montana's waist and teased and pinched his nipples. The other man bent forward to capture Jim's leaking penis between their bodies, and then, as the sweet agony built, he took Jim and brought him to a spectacular climax, and joined him with shouts and moans.

Later, clean and sated, they lay together in the tangled sheets. Jim ran a finger down Montana's face and smiled. "Where did you get that hat? It looks forty years old."

"It's older than that. It was my dad's. He wore it all over the world."

"Looks good on you."

Montana grinned and put it on Jim's head. "Looks good on you, too, tiger."

"I'm more the baseball cap type."

"I guess. What do you do?"

"I'm a cop. A detective."

"Cascade PD must have some serious salaries."

"Army back pay. Was lost for awhile. What do you do?"

Montana blinked. "I'm a professor. My dad gave me this hat when I got tenure. Said he was happy he could live long enough."

"My roommate's a college teacher. Oh, your skin feels so good."

"A cop and a prof?"

"Grad student. Anthropology...do that again." Montana complied, licking his ear.

"You like that, huh? That's my field. It's sort of a family thing." Suddenly, Montana sat up. "You live with Blair Sandburg?"

Jim, startled, pulled the sheet up to cover his groin. "Yeah. How...?"

"I'm out here to visit *him*. He asked me to read his paper because my father wrote something about ancient tribal watchers or..."

"Sentinels?"

"Yes. So, I got a couple of days free unexpectedly and flew out here from New York. And he's out of town?"

"Paper on what?"

"Burton and some people he'd found with a couple of enhanced senses."

"How..."

"You shouted 'Blair' when you came, tiger."

"Oh. Sorry."

Montana leaned forward to kiss his cheek. "It's okay. Does he know?"

Jim shook his head. "I never told him."

"Told me what?"

The other man in the bed hurriedly covered himself at the sound of the third voice.

"Blair! What...what are you doing here?"

"Plane had engine trouble, so they turned around. What is going on here, and who is this person?"

Jim closed his eyes. "Blair Sandburg, I'd like you to meet Montana...Montana...what *is* your last name?"

"*You're* Montana Jones?" Blair, his eyes wide, sat down on the bed. "I was hoping to see you in Chicago, Dr. Jones." Then he turned to face his partner. "You didn't even ask his last name?"

"We...weren't on a last name basis, Sandburg."

"I never figured you for the type?" Blair shook his head.

"What type? Gay?"

"Nah. I figured *that* part out. One night stand type."

"I'm normally not, but...well, I know you're straight, but..."

Blair blinked. "Me? Straight?"

"No offense, Montana, but...if I thought you were anything else..."

Montana started to chuckle. "If this were a sitcom, no one would believe it."

Jim looked at Blair and they joined him in the laughter. Finally, Blair wiped his eyes. "Why don't you two get dressed and I order pizza or something. I think we all need to talk."

Jim nodded, still gasping. Blair grinned and took the fedora off *his* head and put it on his own before heading downstairs.

"Looks better on him than it does on us, tiger."

"Yeah." Jim followed his partner with his eyes all the way down.

-30-