"So this is what it's like to be a grown-up," Blair muttered sourly to himself, surveying the crowd of boxes filling his tiny room. There weren't really that many, of course. Hardly enough to contain his entire life as an academic, yet this was all that he had left once he returned artifacts and books back to their owners.
"Grown-up means knowing that even the people who love you most can betray you," he went on, moodily kicking a box of student files that he should have just dumped to start with. "Grown-up means knowing all the way down to the bottom of you that no decision is so innocent that it can't kill in the long run. It means finally understanding that your whole life can become something you never wanted it to be, *don't* want it to be."
"Sometimes, yeah," Jim agreed, appearing unexpectedly and painfully kneeling in front of him, carefully shoving a box away from the chair to make room for his injured leg. Lightly resting his hands on his roomie's knees, expression somber, he looked as if he had no other place in the world to be. Blair knew that this time he wouldn't be able to brush the sentinel off, or divert him away from the pain he had been living with since his dissertation blew up in his face.
"If you're going to tell me that childhood sucks, too," Blair said tightly, determined to try anyway. "Don't. Mine had its problems, maybe, but it was a good one."
Not sounding at all put off at his friend's tone, Jim said, "Then you're very lucky, and you have another good reason to let Naomi off the hook."
"Already done that." A second later he added reluctantly, "Mostly. I mean, she's my mom, and she's, she's, well, she's *Naomi,* you know?"
"And she never grew up," Jim pointed out without a trace of rancor, though she had fouled up his life, too. "She still doesn't understand what she did wrong and why you were so hurt by it."
Defensively, Blair snapped, "What's so wrong with that? Why should anyone have to live with this, this *burden* of knowledge?" Ashamed, but unable to hold the words inside any longer he said much more quietly, "Why do *I* have to be the grownup?" He hunched over on himself, chin on chest, unable to face the disappointment he knew would be in his partner's face.
Predictably Jim struggled to his feet, grunting a little at the discomfort from his bullet wound, but to Blair's amazement, he caught him by the elbows, urging him to stand as well. "I've got the answer to that, if you've got the time to see it."
"See it?" Curious despite himself, and more than a little relieved that his friend wasn't disgusted with him for his self-pity, Blair let himself be towed out of his room.
"Trust me on this, Chief."
There was no way he could refuse to do what Jim wanted after that, and Blair followed him out of the loft, getting into the truck without asking where they were going. Once they were on the road, he sank into his own thoughts, hardly seeing the sunny day, let alone what direction they were traveling. His brooding didn't seem to bother Jim, but then the sentinel was given to quiet when he drove.
It wasn't until he saw a Corvair that looked like the one he used to have, but in much better condition, that he bothered to look around. He recognized the neighborhood immediately; it was the part of Cascade where the wealthy who pretended to be just well-to-do lived. Jim had been raised here, and his father and brother both still owned houses in the area.
A part of Blair tried to get pissed, thinking that maybe his roomie was taking him to see his father to prove that some grown-ups were better than others. Jim had no right to hold up William Ellison as an example of how not to be an adult, just because his childhood had been less than stellar. It wasn't as if the man had had a manual on how to raise a sentinel child.
Before his ire could build up a head of steam, Blair's innate sense of fair play asserted itself, and he mentally added, Not as if I had one either, but when it all hit the fan, he didn't cut me out of his life cold, the way he has his father. Maybe I was doing it right, but more likely, William really did do that bad a job of it. Tiredly he closed his eyes, leaning on the glass, thinking again of his mother. Or maybe it's got more to do with the whole parent/child dynamic. Who am I to judge one way or the other, anyway?
He could feel the truck slowing, and he opened his eyes again, vaguely surprised to see that they were turning before the block where the Ellison homestead was located. His curiosity began to percolate again, and he snuck at peek at his partner from the corner of his eye, but Jim was wearing his best bland soldier's face. Sure there would be information forthcoming sooner or later, Blair paid more attention to the road, but he was quickly lost in the twists and turns that were part of any suburban development. He thought they might be climbing the ridge that over looked the community; possibly heading for the fringes of it.
About the time Blair was ready to believe that his partner was driving randomly to delay arriving at whatever destination he had in mind, Jim went down a cul-de-sac that had a small playground at the end of it. It was a typical playscape with the mandatory two basketball hoops, nets long gone, swings of assorted sizes, and half-empty sand box with the crumbling remains of a castle in it. Only the lack of graffiti and broken glass marked it as being in a good neighborhood, though it was probably no safer a place to play than any other.
Jim parked at the side farthest from the nearest homes and got out, abandoning his cane, obviously expecting Blair leave the truck, too. Thoroughly mystified, he did, hesitantly following when the sentinel began walking alongside a small brook that marked the boundary of the shared playground and private land. There was a trace of a path, but Jim followed it as if his feet knew the way without being told, despite the limp.
Within minutes they were far enough into the woods behind the playground that the houses were hidden, giving the illusion that they were miles away from civilization. That only added to Blair's bewilderment. If Jim had wanted to hike, why not drive to one of the national forests or wildlife preserves like they usually did? True, it was late afternoon, but not so late they couldn't have made it to a decent trail and gotten in a few hours before daylight faded.
Turning the puzzle over in his mind, willing to believe that giving him something else to think about had been the only reason for this trip, Blair didn't really notice their surroundings at first. Not that it was worth noticing; it was a typical slice of nature struggling to survive at the edge of man's territory and not particularly remarkable. Second growth trees and underbrush filled the narrow valley, and ferns filled in the rest with an occasional wildflower braving the scrub.
As they climbed, though, the quiet began to work its way into him, slowing down the mad rush of his mind and emotions, letting in the beginnings of appreciation for this maverick bit of Mother Nature's work. It was an atypically bright day. Far too rare an occurrence in Cascade not to cherish, and it was warm, as well, perfect for being outside. Little by little Blair saw the details around him: brilliant beams of light, seemingly solid and touchable, slanting through the shadows of tree and hillside, the musical conversation of the water running beside them, the hum and flutter of assorted insects and birds.
A particularly beautiful butterfly with yellow and blue wings bounced through the air right by his nose, startling a laugh out of him and making Jim look over his shoulder to see what caused it. His friend's wary expression relaxed considerably, and he smiled, pointing to a small cluster of brilliantly purple flowers dancing under the take-off and landings of dozens more butterflies of all different species. As if feeling their regard, the whole flock of them lifted away at once, filling a tiny corner of the woods with color and motion.
Jim didn't stop to admire, though he did slow down to give them both plenty of time to appreciate and commit to memory. A few dozen yards farther on he squeezed past a rock that nearly blocked the narrow valley and disappeared from view. When Blair did the same, he found himself standing at the lip of a small bowl scooped out of the side of the mountain that faced west and overlooked a river. With the lowering sun casting a burnished glow over the landscape, it was a spectacular view, but the truly remarkable thing about the tiny clearing was the enormous oak tree dominating the left side of the small depression.
It had to be a hundred years old, if it was a day, and its heavy, low-slung branches made it look as if it could easily endure a hundred more. Never mind that it didn't belong in this setting and that it was perilously close to destructive humans. It was a miracle that it existed at all.
Jim picked up speed again, as if sighting an old friend, and he headed straight for the old oak, dragging Blair along behind him by sheer force of will. Once beside the thick, gnarled trunk, the sentinel tilted back his head to look into the canopy, a small smile in place and one hand pressed into the worn bark. For a moment it looked as if he and the tree were aware of each other, saying hello in some unique way that didn't require language.
Shading his eyes, he started to check the crown himself to see if he could spot for himself what made this oak so special to his friend, but Jim chuckled and said, "Never mind, Sandburg. A waste of your time."
Giving him the first genuine smile he'd had all day long, Blair said lightly, "Well, whatever it is you wanted me to see here, I am not climbing another tree for you. It's getting to be a habit!"
"This is one time you might enjoy yourself if you did," Jim said. "This Old Grandfather is made for it. Easy hand holds and plenty of sturdy, comfortable places to sit on. And the view from the top is worth the trouble." Then, surprisingly, he planted his hand in the center of Blair's chest and gently shoved him toward one branch. "But there is something I want you to try that you can do close to the ground."
"What?" Blair half-laughed.
"For starters, sit."
Automatically Blair did as he was told, and found himself perched in a curve of trunk and branch only a few feet up that seemed to have been grown as a perfect fit just for him. He settled back against the tree, not hiding his confusion or mild aggravation, but before he could express it, Jim said quietly, "Now I want you to close your eyes and breathe, like you taught me."
"I've tried meditating," he unintentionally snapped, his earlier mood dropping back on him full force. "It's not a cure-all; it's not even a patch up job. You meditate for years sometimes, to process a major problem."
"I'm not asking you to meditate." Rubbing at his forehead, Jim looked at the ground, the confessed with just a hint of awkwardness, "I want you to pretend to be a sentinel. Start with your eyes closed because sight is very distracting from the other senses."
"Pretend.... Will it do any good for me to ask why?"
"Sandburg, just do it, will you? Give it a few minutes, and if you don't get what I'm driving at, I'll take you to that god-awful heath food restaurant you like so much and pay for your hay and kelp salad with algae dressing."
Despite the light tone, there was something serious and shy under it that convinced Blair in spite of himself, and he sighed before closing his eyes and pulling his legs up under him. It was remarkably comfortable given his situation, and he straightened his spine, inhaling deeply through his nose, then exhaling slowly from his mouth.
"Don't think, or say a mantra," Jim coached quietly. "*Feel.* Sunshine, warm breeze, your hair lifting with it, roughness of the bark, the vibration from the branches moving, even your clothes against your skin shifting with your breathing."
Though he tried, at first Blair couldn't do it; he kept getting side-tracked by an itch in a bad spot, or a strand of hair blowing across his lips or nose and annoying him. Eventually, though, the idea itself seduced him. He'd never thought of how the swaying of a tree in the wind might communicate itself to someone sitting near the base, and he did his best to pick up any other nuance that had escaped him in the past.
After a while he was willing to swear that he could feel just how deeply rooted the old oak was; feel its life welling up from the soil, anchoring it as it lovingly cradled the human life communing with it. With that security to cling to, it was easy to give himself up to the erratic teasing from the breeze. It crept into his hair and through his clothes, surprisingly sensuous against his skin, making him acutely aware of his own body in a way that wasn't sexual, yet was very pleasant. He lifted his face to give the breeze more freedom, and the play of sunlight on his closed eyes added another element to his sensory awareness.
Not only could he feel the warmth from the rays, but he could feel the dappled shadows from the leaves shielding him from their direct heat, even tell when they were dancing in the wind by the way the patches of cool shifted and changed. On another level, he was aware of his partner sitting close by, though he wasn't exactly sure he could call the sensation 'feeling.' Despite that, Blair was absolutely confident that if he wanted to, he could unerringly reach out and touch Jim anywhere he wanted, as if he knew exactly what position his friend was in.
As if in confirmation, Jim murmured, unselfishly giving away his location, "Listen now, Blair. Hear what I hear."
That was easy to do at first: leaves rustling as they changed shades of green from flirting with the breeze and sunshine, insects burring and clicking and chirping, the songs of half a dozen different birds, the distant burble of the stream working its way down the ridge. Under that, though, was a quiet that was beguiling, luring him into listening to his body and its hushed thumping and whooshing. Then that faded away to white noise that he didn't hear at all anymore, and in the moment of complete silence and peace that he accidentally created, something inside of him cracked open.
The anger, frustration, grief, disappointment – all the negative emotions that had been dominating him since he stood in front of the Press trickled away, seeping into the ancient wood of the oak like tears dampening a beloved grandmother's shawl. Blair watched/listened/felt them go gratefully, but from a distance, as if the act of letting them go put him far above their existence. With his new-found perspective coloring his thoughts, he opened his eyes to see the beauty of his setting anew, and was gifted with the glory of one of Mother Nature's most spectacular sunsets.
No one could paint as vibrantly as she could, and she used the most dazzling hues she had on her palette with an abandon that mere humans could never duplicate. Valley, river, clouds and open sky all shimmered under her hand, and Blair watched entranced, unaware of the passing of time, regardless of the obvious evidence of it as the sky slowly darkened to twilight.
When the first star made its appearance, he made whimsically made a wish, one that didn't have words but concerned the companion that had sat with him so long and so patiently. He glanced at Jim, intending to softly invite him to do the same, and discovered with a jolt of pain that the sentinel wasn't admiring the sunset at all. Instead he had his eyes fixed on the ground, head slightly turned in the way that Blair associated with shielding his eyes from hurtfully bright light.
After spending a few hours trying to listen and feel the same way Jim did, it was easy for Blair to look back at the horizon, viewing it from the perspective of a man who could probably still see many of the colors that had fade from Blair's sight. Internally he winced, realizing how agonizingly intense it had to be unless the dials were way, way down, and if that were the case, there wouldn't be anything left worth looking at. It gave him a new angle on Jim's senses to think about, and not wanting the seductive presence of the tree to distract him, he stood, the stiffness from sitting so still for so long pulling in his muscles in a good way.
Jim took it as a cue to head back to the truck, and he led the way through the gloaming, taking care to guide Blair over the obstacles in the terrain. That took most of Blair's attention, but not so much that he had to give up his new line of thought, and for once, his partner's habitual silence was convenient, sparing him from having to come up with conversation himself. It wasn't until they were back in the truck heading home that he asked, "You don't enjoy your senses very much, do you?"
"What's to enjoy?" Jim asked back. By the dim light of the dashboard Blair could see an expression of honest confusion on his friend's face, as if he had just asked him if he liked his gun or badge.
Of course, Blair thought to himself with sorrowed understanding dawning slowly. In a way, I did, didn't I? To Jim his abilities are just tools, weapons that I help him calibrate and troubleshoot. Things to be studied and measured, not liked or appreciated.
Aloud he asked, "How about music? You have to be able to hear the notes clearer and cleaner than anybody else."
With a faint grimace, Jim said, "On a recording I hear every grunt and groan in the background, every scratch and squeal too faint for the filters to block. Live, I can't hear the music for all the people around me unless the sound's up so high, I have to dial it all away, anyway." A second later he added gruffly, "It helps if it's a tune I know; then I know what to listen for."
Mind racing, Blair dismissed smell because he lived in a city himself and knew all too well the kind of stench that the sentinel had to deal with on a daily basis, and art fell into the same category of problems as music. As for taste, he knew from cooking for Jim that it was problematic; most of the time it was a case of not being overwhelmed by any single flavor rather than appreciating the whole dish for itself.
That only left touch, and he asked tentatively, "What about sex?"
For once, Jim answered, maybe because the worst had already happened, or because he understood that the question was prompted by honest concern, not prurient curiosity or scientific interest. He said reflectively, "You grew up having to worry about AIDS – and I know Naomi well enough to guess you had 'practice safe sex' drilled into your head early."
"Pretty much," Blair agreed, wondering where his partner was going.
"Ever go bareback with a lover?"
Blair answered slowly, "A couple of times, when I was sure it was as safe as it could get."
"Bet it was pretty wild, right? And maybe not much fun for your partner?" Though he was trying to keep his tone casual, the tension in Jim's long frame told Blair that the question was every bit as serious as the one he asked to begin with.
Heart sinking because he was beginning to get an idea of the point Jim was going to make, Blair said, "Pretty much a disaster from that angle, though I tried to make up for it as soon as I scraped my brain back together. It was just so intense, you know?"
"And the next time," Jim went on inexorably, "you used a condom, it felt like you had bagged it in tupperware, right?"
"Not that good." Blair took a deep breath, then said, half-expecting to get punched, "It's worse for you, isn't it? All the time. Stay in control enough to be able to make your partner happy and not hurt them, and it's no fun."
"Carol used to say that she might as well take a dildo to bed – less messy and just as emotionally satisfying."
"That bitch!" Blair said without rancor. Suddenly Jim's train wreck of a love-life was making a whole lot of sense, as did the past few years of watching him grow more and more serious and remote, taking chances on women who wouldn't *want* emotional. There was no need to wonder why he hadn't turned to men. Jim had confided early on that it took a huge amount of trust on his part to bed a man, for what were fairly obvious reasons, which was why he also routinely let the other guy make the first move.
To spare Jim – and himself - from dwelling on what was close to an insoluble problem, Blair frantically rummaged through his brain trying to think of something, anything, that Jim might be able to still take pleasure in. "Surfing?" he asked hopefully.
"Too easy to zone," Jim said tiredly. "The ocean is too demanding to sense-wise."
"Damn! You mean to tell me there's nothing you can do with the senses that's just for fun?" Blair hadn't meant to sound so exasperated, though he was frustrated with himself for not realizing how restricted his friend's life had to be. It didn't help that the thought of Jim living what was essentially a joyless life was nearly physically painful for Blair, made worse by the fact the sentinel had never complained, just shouldered the burden and done the best he could.
"Nothing," Blair repeated softly, coaxingly – hopefully.
For a few minutes Jim silently drove, occasionally glancing at Blair out of the corner of his eyes. Finally he said, "Roll down your window."
"What?" Blair asked in confusion.
"Roll down your window. Don't worry, Chief. It's warm enough even for a lizard like you."
"I'll have you know," Blair said, doing as he was told and holding in his burgeoning delight that his partner was going to willingly share something unique. "That lizards are very good spirit guides. They can dream reality, man, be like a door between it and the dreamtime."
"Then you should really get off on this. Brace yourself." Jim turned off the headlights and killed the engine, leaving them silently racing at top speed through the darkness like some great bird of prey. The road dipped and curved down the mountainside, giving Blair the feeling they were dipping and wheeling on invisible wings.
The heady flight couldn't last very long, and he couldn't stop a disappointed sigh any more than he could have prevented his gasp of surprise when it began. Wide-eyed he begged, "Again. Please!"
Laughing, Jim turned the key in the ignition, then expertly spun the truck into a 180 and sped back the way they came, only to repeat his hair-raising turn at the top of the mountain. This time in total darkness. Knowing what to expect now, Blair could savor the nuances of the journey, marveling at how soft the air currents were sweeping over his cheek and how the shadowy trees were like black rain clouds, both threatening and insubstantial as they flew past them.
This time Jim let the truck naturally slow to a steady roll, and when he was at last forced to turn on the engine, Blair breathed, "Wow!"
Neither of them had anything to add to that, and they finished the ride back home in contented silence.
The ex-grad student who climbed the stairs to the loft was a substantially different person who had been towed out of it earlier that day. His worldview had slipped substantially and was still shifting, subtly but inarguably, leaving him looking at everything – including himself – a little differently. It wasn't a bad change so far, and in its own way as exhilarating as their mad flight down the mountain.
As new and uncertain as it all was, Blair still had to let Jim know it was happening, happening because of him, and that he was grateful for it. It was all too vague to put into words, so he resorted to the language his partner spoke best, anyway. The moment they were safely locked in their home, he turned and wrapped his arms around him, hugging hard, not leaving any space at all between them.
Jim hugged back just as powerfully, his long arms enfolding Blair so completely that he honestly didn't know how he would find the strength to ever pull away. But it seemed that his partner was going to make that decision for them anyway; before he actually moved, Blair could feel him locking down parts of himself and knew that in a moment he would step away. A flash of intuition blinded Blair's inner eye, and he mentally staggered, suddenly understanding all too much.
Tightening his hold and digging his fingers into the fabric at the back of Jim's shirt to emphasize his unwillingness to be released, he whispered, "You don't have to back off, hide what you are, what you need, from me, of all people. You can let go, do what comes naturally to you. I may not be as buff as you, but I'm not fragile, either, and you don't have to worry about being considerate, either. I'll understand. And I want you just as badly as you want me."
"Sandburg," Jim said warningly, but not letting go. "You don't know what you're risking here. Hell, I'm not even sure what would happen."
"I'm not risking anything. I'm just giving back a little of what you've been giving me today."
"Sandburg," Jim repeated roughly.
Not obeying the implied order, Blair took a deep breath, allowing himself to really enjoy his partner's scent for a change and let go of a few restraints himself. The change inside was electric. His stomach quivered with the kind of half-scared anticipation he hadn't felt since before his first kiss, and his knees were so wobbly, he couldn't have stood without Jim's support. His partner said something to him that Blair couldn't – wouldn't – understand, and he shook his head in denial, hiding his face on Jim's chest.
To his relief, long fingers wound into his hair at the back of his head, and Jim leaned down a little, so they were cheek to cheek. "Blair," he murmured in a totally different tone of voice; one that was weakening, cracking under a strain that he had never named. Nor was that the only sign of his incipient capitulation. The warmth that had been a comfortable part of a hug turned to pure heat, transforming their embrace completely. Jim nuzzled at the ear nearest his mouth, inhaling deeply, then his tongue dabbed at the fragile dip just behind Blair's earlobe.
He had no sooner tasted than Blair felt an almost subliminal tremor in the hard body pressed into his and a barely audible sigh caressed his hearing. That was the only outward sign of Jim's climax, other than the growing damp spot at his groin. Despite his release, he didn't relax his hold on Blair. If anything, his grip was tighter, and Blair had a fleeting moment of panic, suddenly unsure that unleashing the sentinel's sensuality was really a good idea.
Then Jim whispered into his curls, "Upstairs," and the fear fled before the rich satisfaction and still-molten desire in that single word. He nudged Blair backwards, lips flitting everywhere over his up-turned face as they stumbled toward the steps. His hands were as busy, working under the many layers of clothing Blair wore, stroking and petting with such delicacy they barely disturbed the wiry hairs on his skin.
The erotic assault was overwhelming; long before they reached the big bed upstairs, Blair was erect and leaking with urgency. Each fleeting touch of lips and fingers sent a shiver of tingling pleasure through his body, all of them congregating in his middle, making him panting and eager. He pulled at his and Jim's clothes, wanting them off, or pushed aside, or something, so long as they were bare flesh to bare flesh as soon as possible.
When they were both naked, Jim finally took a single step away, eyes running over his new lover's body. "Beautiful, beautiful," he said quietly, reverently, then leaned in to take Blair's mouth in a deep, wet kiss that was a shock to his lust.
Incited to a level of desire that had him moaning desperately, he tried to pull Jim back to him to press close, but he broke away, hand cupping Blair's face, fingers restlessly digging through the curls framing it. Without warning he gracefully dropped to his knees, smoothly gliding his palms down Blair's torso as he did. "Want your come in me," he muttered, then hungrily deep-throated the cock in front of him.
Howling, Blair froze in place, experience telling him that thrusting now would end things all too quickly. As his partner's hands cradled his backside, encouraging him to do so anyway, he realized that for once he didn't have to hold on. An erection on his part wasn't necessary to Jim, just his enjoyment, and he didn't have to be careful of his strength, either. Not only could Jim handle it, but he obviously wanted it fast and hard.
Daringly Blair threaded his fingers through the soft velvet at the back of his lover's head, braced himself on one broad shoulder, and ruthlessly used what Jim was offering him. It couldn't last, but that only meant he'd get to do it all over again, and the simple thought of Jim kneeling for him anytime he wanted was all it took.
"God... Jim, Jim!" he whispered, then was inundated by ecstasy, becoming joyously lost in it for a short eternity.
When he came back to himself, he was lying on his back in the middle of the big bed, and Jim was sitting on his heels between Blair's wide-spread legs. Eyeing Blair hungrily, he jacked his massive hard-on and licked his lips as if savoring a well-remembered flavor. Climax or not, Blair's dick stirred sluggishly; the sight before him was that compelling.
"More?" Jim asked rhetorically, with a wolfish grin.
"Now," Blair answered anyway.
"You have to suck; I want my come in you."
Moaning, Blair restlessly shifted his legs, opening them a little wider, hands going over his head to grab the wire railing. "I want it in my ass."
"Going to get it there, too," Jim promised. "And later I'll get yours in mine. But for now, suck."
"God." It really was nearly a prayer, and a very eager one. Tightening his grasp on the wire, needing an anchor point as the exhilarating passion rose in him, Blair dragged tongue over dry lips in anticipation of tasting the rosy cock in front of him.
Plainly in no hurry, Jim drew a swirling line over one of Blair's thighs, grin widening at the visible shiver that rippled out from the light touch. Nodding at the death-grip on the railing, he said conversationally, "Something I should know about what you like in bed?"
Startled, Blair looked up at his hands and swallowed hard. "Uh." The rational part of his mind poured out harmless, valid reasons for what he was doing, but before he could voice any of them, Jim listened to what his body was saying instead with renewed heat and hardness. Stretching out over him, not quite touching, in a way that emphasized his superior size, Jim reached into a nightstand drawer with the hand that wasn't supporting his weight.
View blocked by the muscled chest nearly at his nose, Blair couldn't see what his partner was doing, but a moment later Jim was sitting back on his heels again, tucking some things between the mattress and box springs. "For later," he said off-handedly, then held up a wide pale blue satin ribbon. "This is for now." Not waiting for permission or even acknowledgement, he kneeled astride Blair's chest and quickly wrapped the ribbon around and over Blair's wrists. He didn't make it so tight that Blair couldn't wiggle free if needed, but it was secure enough that it would take more concentration than a raging hard-on would allow.
Then Jim pushed his cock past parted lips, supporting his lover's head in one large palm to make the best angle for fucking Blair's face. Willingly, hungrily, Blair licked at the length of the hard-on as it used him, tightening his lips around the crown when he could. Good as the taste was, as the pure sensation of sucking was, it was the freedom of needing only to please himself as he nursed on the powerful flesh that was most satisfying. Jim would take care of his own pleasure when and how he wanted, which allowed Blair to do the same.
It was a heady, erotic liberty, and, paradoxically, everything inside of him relaxed as every muscle in his body tightened to strain toward release. As if in reward, Jim came, filling his mouth with a bitter flood of seed that Blair eagerly swallowed. He drained every drop he could coax out, releasing his lover only when Jim eased away, still half-hard. For a moment he worried that their loving was over, for a while at least, but a peek through his lashes showed a partner whose eyes were dark, nearly feral with lust. A whimper of relief escaped him despite his best efforts to quiet it, and Jim scooted down so he could bend over and touch foreheads with Blair.
"Don't worry," he panted. "I haven't forgotten that tight little ass of yours needs filled, too."
Blair arched his neck so that he could kiss him, forcefully plunging his tongue into Jim's mouth, putting everything he felt for his sentinel, his partner, his lover, into it. When he was nearly ready to pass out from lack of air, he tore away. "Make me scream," he whispered so quietly it was barely a breath of air. "Make me scream until I beg you to let me go."
"I'm never letting you go," Jim said, suddenly serious. "You're going to spend the rest of your life half-hard and waiting for me to give you what you need."
Blair could only stare at him wide-eyed and speechless, but Jim didn't seem to need a response. Not touching anywhere else, he began to kiss along the curve of Blair's jaw, working his way to his throat, slowly exploring the sensitive line of neck and shoulder, thoroughly licking and nibbling until Blair thought he might spontaneously combust from the hot need building in his middle. Then his lover fastened a strong, sucking, biting kiss on one nipple, and Blair did explode. Straining against the loving bonds holding his wrists, he moaned for more, harder, but Jim chuckled throatily and moved downward, bestowing more whisper-soft kisses along the way.
Babbling incoherently, Blair waited desperately for his partner to touch his cock, but Jim by-passed it and paid loving attention to the inside of his thigh instead. About the time Blair was praying fervently for his hard-on to be sucked, stroked, bitten, *something,*his lover sat back, lifting Blair's legs to drape them over his shoulders as he pulled the helpless bottom into his lap. For a fleeting moment Blair had to wonder how he looked in that position: his cock was sticking straight up into the air, as if demanding relief, his hands tied over his head, making his chest bow up ever so slightly, showing off his achingly hard nipples.
Openly admiring his vulnerable captive, Jim stropped his cheek over one of Blair's calves, eyes lingering on the full, trembling lips, the throbbing pulse in the throat, and the tight pucker revealed by wantonly splayed thighs. Eventually he settled on the last as if memorizing every fold, and he tenderly probed it with a single finger, grunting at whatever it was his sense of touch told him. Not needing to make an effort at relaxing, Blair eagerly opened to the careful invasion, hoping that his lover wouldn't take too much time readying him.
It was a vain hope. Once he was sure that Blair could handle it, Jim began to play with his ass, probing and stretching, sometimes with two fingers, sometimes with one, occasionally with three knotted together, doing interesting things to the soft channel. Using plenty of the oil he retrieved from his stash at the foot of the bed, Jim worked on him until Blair was helplessly rocking down on the intruders, fighting to get that one caress that would give him relief.
Finally Jim took his hand away, despite an urgent attempt on his lover's part to keep it on him, sitting quietly until Blair calmed marginally. Trying to find words to ask why he stopped, Blair caught his lover's gaze and held it, telling him that way how badly he needed fucked. Understanding the silent message, Jim shook his head slowly and said, "Not yet, Beautiful. Not yet. You're not close enough to screaming." He picked up something that Blair couldn't see and added, "Soon, though. This should help."
Blair got a single glimpse of the large toy before it penetrated him, and he twisted, nearly throwing himself off the bed at the rush from the entry. Jim gave him a moment to adjust to its presence, then let Blair's legs slip to the bed as he bent over him, lips moving over belly and chest until he reached Blair's nipples. Catching one between his teeth, he bit, not quite hard enough to bruise, and began working the dildo in and out as he worried the bit of flesh with his tongue.
The scream that ripped out of Blair had been relentlessly building since forever, and he would have shot right then except that Jim gave his balls a sharp tug, derailing the climax before it could happen. When his lover moved on to the other tit, he tried to brace himself, but it was useless. The keen teeth tore another scream from him, and, sobbing with pleasure, he rode down hard on the plastic inside him, lost in the maelstrom of sensation that was consuming him.
Time had no meaning for him – the sweet torture lasted forever and not nearly long enough. Somehow along the line he wound up on his stomach, hips high in the air and backing into the rough use from the toy as Jim bit his way down his spine. Jim removed the dildo and sat up, leaving Blair feeling empty and bereft, and he didn't even think of trying to stop the wild cry of disappointment that left him.
"I think," Jim said conversationally, the effect somewhat spoiled by how raw and rough his voice was, "That this is where I make you beg."
"Wha...." Blair scrambled for language skills, both to understand exactly what was being said and to answer. It was important, he knew; necessary if he was going to be filled again. He tried several times, but only produced a few meaningless syllables, all the while rearing back fruitlessly to find a cock to take. Taking mercy – of a sorts – Jim covered him, letting his hard-on fit along the slick cleft.
"Want this?" he coaxed. "What it bad?"
"Yes!" Blair blurted, immensely relieved to find a sound that made sense.
"Then you need to beg, Beautiful." Jim thrust once over the slippery bottom, then began sniffing and licking at the nape of Blair's neck, a free hand rolling and pinching an already aching nipple. "Beg pretty for me."
Beg? Blair thought distractedly, trying to translate the word while nearly consumed by the spike of pleasure from the torment. Beg meant... "Please?"
Switching to the other bud, Jim murmured, "Close, very close. Try again. Tell me what you need."
"You," Blair whispered instantly. That answer needed no thought, never had though he was just beginning to realize that. "Now. Please. Please."
"Blair!" Jim moaned, his weight suddenly heavy and warm on Blair's back. "Blair...." He shoved his cock hard into the willing body, sinking all the way in on the first thrust.
Instinctively tightening around the hard column, Blair began shaking violently, climax hammering at the wad of tension in his gut. Jim's cock felt different from the toy, not just because it was bigger, but because it was alive and demanding and powerful, fucking him with a steady, hip-snapping rhythm that was perfect. That was what he needed all his life. Ecstasy too intense to allow breathing, let alone thinking, smashed through Blair, scattering his seed in front of it like leaves caught in a gust of wind.
From a great distance he felt a second wave of release in answer to Jim's roar of completion and a wave of heat from the come pumped inside him. The weight on him increased as his lover slumped exhausted over him, and that was the last thing Blair knew before he slid away into the first deep, restful sleep he'd had since his mother had come to visit.
When he woke hours later, deliciously achy and sore, but totally at peace with himself and the world, Blair lay in the circle of Jim's arms without moving, staring into the night-filled loft and thinking. His partner was spooned up behind him, scrunched down a bit so that his nose was snuggled into the curls at the back of Blair's neck. As he snored softly, his breath stirred the short hairs there, sending a startlingly arousing tingle through Blair's body, amazingly causing a faint buzz of new desire and making him want to lean back into the accidental caress.
Or perhaps, it wasn't so accidental. Half a hard-on was nestled between his thighs, tickling a little as it tried to lengthen, and Blair thought about riding on it to encourage it to grow. But he didn't. He wanted a chance to think about the day and its surprising conclusion before he had to deal with the morning after. He definitely needed to have his head on straight before Jim woke, because there was no way this was going to be a one-night stand if he could help it. Which made it a good thing that Jim had already made it clear he didn't either. Save them both one hell of a fight.
Blair was through running from bed to bed, knowing what he secretly wanted, and terrified of actually getting it. Not that he had known at the time that was why he kept things light and easy with all his lovers, and why he had never made a pass at Jim. More of being a grown-up, he thought sardonically. Facing a harsh truth about yourself, then finding a way to live with it.
As if sensing his troubled thoughts, Jim shifted fractionally, tightening his arms around him. Blair smiled. If it took becoming a grown-up to get him Jim, maybe being one wasn't so bad. Which was what his partner had been trying to tell him today, of course.
A child would accept that old Grandfather Oak for what it gave him – a much-needed sanctuary from the troubles and sorrows of his life. An adult knew the oak for the miracle that it was, and appreciated its comforts all the more. A child would give no thought to the dangers inherent in their night shrouded voyage in a truck with no lights on; an adult knew the possible consequences and chose to risk them, making the joy that much sweeter.
The trick, Blair supposed sleepily, was to hang onto the wonders and joy of childhood while enduring the turmoil of being a grown-up. Something Jim seemed to know intuitively, even if he had problems achieving the balance he needed. Well, Blair could help him with that, and not just by being a caring and responsive lover, either.
He drifted into dreams of showing his sentinel partner whole new ways to play and laugh, and woke with a dozen ideas floating around in the back of his mind. With joy bubbling up inside of him at ridiculous levels, Blair slipped out of bed, intent on making sure that Jim had every reason in the world to be just as happy. He'd start with a breakfast guaranteed to win a sentinel's heart, even if it did do some collateral damage along the way: fried eggs, home fries, bacon, biscuits and sausage gravy.
Dressing quickly from the clothes that he had on hand, he reminded himself to do laundry; he was down to his oldest, most worn jeans and shirts, all of which were almost too small and definitely very threadbare. After a moment's consideration, remembering the need in his lover's eyes when he looked at him, Blair left off his covering flannels and wore a muscle shirt, refusing to mentally compare his slighter frame with Jim's buff build. Wanting to be able to pad around nearly silently while he worked, he went barefoot as he went into the kitchen to cook.
Blair assembled the ingredients that he had on hand, then ran to the store to get what he needed to finish making his lover's feast. With luck he could make it back before Jim got up, and he'd have the pleasure of serving him breakfast in bed, house rules or no house rules. A little while later, still hoping that, despite the delay helping an over-burdened mother load her groceries into her mini-van, he would find his lover asleep, Blair slipped off his sneakers and carried them so he could move as quietly as possible.
On the other side of the door he had to give up his hope; Jim was sitting on the bottom step, head hanging over hands clasped at his knees. His body language spoke of a child trying manfully to bear the burden of one more disappointment, one more abandonment, much as Jim had had to do all his life. Not only had his senses robbed him of the joys the body could give, Blair realized with a painful lurch of his heart, but they had inadvertently robbed him of the innocent childhood most people take for granted. Jim had always known what a miracle the sanctuary of the Grandfather Oak was, had never been able to take it for granted.
Dropping the groceries and shoes, he ran for Jim, skidding to a stop on his knees next to him, almost under Jim's, a hand at his lover's waist to steady himself. "Look at me," he ordered, and simply waited for the sentinel to really *see* the happiness burning in him.
The joy that slowly suffused Jim's face and eyes was flare-in-a-coal mine bright, and he reached out, tenderly brushing his fingers through the hair over one of Blair's ears. "I thought you'd left," he said simply. "Not for good, but because you didn't want me to think last night was any thing special."
"It was special," Blair said softly, leaning into the loving caress, eyelids drifting down. "All of yesterday was, thanks to you. Now I want to return the favor and teach you something important."
"What?" Jim asked absently, bending over to lightly kiss Blair's forehead.
"It's never too late to have a happy childhood." Blair took a fast, hard kiss, dragging his fingers down the line of his lover's spine until he could dip into the cleft of his ass. "Specifically," he whispered against Jim's lips. "TAG! You're it!"
And immediately jumped to his feet, dodging around the hand flung out to catch him, and raced up the stairs. Jim caught him before he reached the top, but only because he wasn't laughing as hard as Blair was. Yet, anyway.
finis