Title: Caramel

Disclaimers: Not mine, never were, never will be, and if TPTB didn't want me to play, they should have given me plane fare to Vancouver. :)

Notes: My writer's block is gone! This is for mcvey (love you, babe! :)

Summary: It's Jim, it's Blair, and it's caramel. How do I get myself into this? <G>

Warnings: Justine, he's doing that thing with his tongue again! <EG> I worked extremely hard to remove any vestiges of a plot--this is pure sex, from beginning to end. Minors, homophobes, you *really* don't want to go here! <G>

Caramel by Owlet

Jim moaned and arched his back, pleasure surging over him like a wave. Above him, Blair quivered and groaned, pushing into Jim's hand on his cock even as he leaned back, driving Jim's cock deeper into himself. Jim felt the tight grip around him clench even tighter, and instinctively reached for Blair's cock, tugging gently as he ground his own cock against the spongy-firm bump he could feel inside Blair.

*...oh yeah...*

Blair yelped and squeezed his eyes shut, then gave a choking sound and spasmed hard. Jim could feel the tremors starting, the powerful convulsions rippling up and down the shaft he had planted in Blair's body. The swollen gland throbbed once, then several times in succession as Blair shuddered silently and came in hard pulses, his semen spattering Jim's chest and hand. The scent of it filled Jim's lungs as he panted, intoxicating and heady, and the sight of his lover's climax through teared eyes sent him over the edge. He came, hard, shooting deep into the tight trembling channel, as Blair came down from his own orgasm.

Blair moaned and swayed from his suddenly precarious position astride Jim's hips, sending a jolt through Jim's tender cock, still buried to the root in Blair's body. With shaking hands he helped Blair ease off him, and scooted to the side so that Blair could collapse face-down beside him, arms and legs limp and splayed. Jim pulled himself up on one elbow, stroking up and down Blair's damp back, exhausted himself but too tempted by the sight of a passion-soaked Blair to resist the urge to watch.

"You okay?" he asked hoarsely.

Blair made a muffled sound into the pillow, eyes closed. Satisfaction was practically oozing from his pores; Jim was faintly surprised that there wasn't a sign in the air above him, proclaiming that his was one royally well-fucked man gracing his bed. He grinned, feeling slightly smug as he took in the picture Blair made--loose and relaxed, sweaty, flushed, that responsive body still quivering in pleasure. He zeroed in on Blair's opening, saw the muscle there flexing, winking--knew that Blair was trying to extract the last bit of pleasure from the sensation of being stretched and filled. Blair really *loved* being fucked, almost as he loved to fuck. The thought made Jim shiver, and his softening cock began to fill again.

With a groan, he peeled himself away from his lover's side, and dragged himself out of bed. Blair made an interrogatory sound into his pillow, and Jim leaned down to kiss Blair's shoulder. "Just going for some stuff to clean up with, Chief," he muttered, licking the warm skin under his mouth. "Be right back, okay?"

Blair nodded absently, pressing up into the caress then falling back with a hum of content when Jim broke contact and headed for the bathroom.

Warm, damp washcloths in one hand, lotion to soothe any lingering friction burns--something they had gotten into the habit of doing after too many nights when they hadn't been able to do that second shave--in the other, he made one stop in the kitchen for a bowl for the cloths, and stopped. They had been having sundaes that night for dessert, and most of the makings--including the Ben and Jerry's ice cream, Jim noticed glumly--were still out on the counter. Blair, Jim recalled with a sense of satisfaction, had pounced as soon as Jim started talking about what a sensory feast Ben and Jerry's was. But what had really caught his attention was the small glass jar of caramel sitting on the stove--nicely warmed and viscous.

Jim loved caramel.

He climbed back up the stairs and settled on the bed next to Blair to begin his ministrations. Blair groaned as Jim rubbed lotion on two of the worst beard burns, and used the warm cloths to wipe the semen from his chest and stomach and limp, spent cock., still dazed and dreamy. Then Jim turned his attention to Blair's back, and his tight, tempting ass.

Blair stirred slightly as a new sensation entered the collection gently assaulting him. A warm, thick, drizzling feel, that trailed from the back of his right thigh, up the curve of his asscheek, and down the cleft of his ass to pool on--his asshole? What the hell?

"Jim?" His voice was foggy with repletion, but he managed to put enough curiosity and interest in it to get an answer.

Well, what Jim considered an answer, anyway. "Yes?"

"What are you doing?" The sensation began again, this time on his left thigh, and Blair tried to move, to see what the heck Jim was getting up to back there. Jim tsked and pushed him flat again, but the change in posture had shifted air currents, and you didn't need to be a Sentinel to recognize the one scent that didn't belong in this context.

"*Caramel,*" Blair said in disbelief. "Jesus, Jim, is this some sort of fetish for you or something? Ohhhhhhhhh," he moaned as Jim nipped the small of his back chidingly.

"I like caramel," Jim murmured, and fastened his mouth where he had bitten, sucking hard.

Jim licked the small mark, and Blair felt another of the caramel lines being drawn down from the center of the small of his back straight down his cleft to join the other two. The warmth and heavy, oozy weight of it felt incredible, especially where he was still so sensitive, and unthinkingly he flexed the muscles to better savor the sensations. From behind him he heard a groan, then Jim's mouth was on him again, licking, tasting, sampling.

"Oh man...Jim!" Blair half-yelled, bucking wildly, feeling life start to return to his cock. The sensations drove though him, but even more potent than the feel of Jim's warm, rasping tongue licking him until he thought he'd go mad was the knowledge that Jim planned on following the trails of caramel across his skin--and that, eventually, a *long* time from now, that wicked, talented, incredible tongue would come to where he was already dying for its touch.

And the thought of getting rimmed by Jim, having his tongue, his mouth *there,* caramel and all, was enough to drive him completely out of his lingering post-orgasmic euphoria and straight into pure gut-wrenching arousal that flared out of nowhere so fast he almost screamed.

Jim didn't say anything, just kept slowly cleaning every last trace of caramel from Blair's skin. He worked in a spiral pattern, moving from right thigh to left thigh to back, clearing a bare half-inch with each path, driving Blair mad with the sensation and anticipation. By the time he finally reached the cleft Blair was shaking, biting his fist with the effort to keep still, moaning harshly with every breath.

And now Jim slowed even further, lingering over every lick, drawing his tongue over the sensitive, flinching surface with careful, painstaking delicacy. Tiny delicate tongue-tip licks, broad sweeping raspy licks, strong curling prodding licks--and everyone one of them driving Blair out of his mind. By the time he actually reached the wildly clenching opening, where most of the caramel had flowed to pool, Blair was begging.

"Please, Jim...ohhhhhhh...oh god...ah, please, now, now, now...Jiiiiiiiiiiiim..." He tried to drive his hips up, get more contact with that amazing tongue, but Jim was holding him down, and Blair screamed as he felt the first teasing, swirling contact over his aching asshole.

"Oh baby, you taste so good," Jim moaned, the first indication Blair had that Jim was enjoying this as much as he was. "You...and me...the caramel, tastes--oh god--fucking incredible...both of us, ohhh..."

And then Jim stopped talking again and returned to the task of driving his lover insane. He took his time, searching out every fold, every cranny of the puckered hole for the thick sweetness of the caramel. And, when he was satisfied he had gotten every drop he could from the surface, he pointed his tongue and drove inwards, licking against the tight, spasming walls of Blair's channel.

Blair screamed again.

That was the last straw. Jim's presence left him, and Blair felt a frenzied scrabbling around going on, then two of Jim's fingers pressed into him, slick with lube and maddeningly not enough.

"Please, now--now, dammit!" Blair half-sobbed, and then the head was in him, and the rest of that wonderful thick shaft was following where he was still loose enough, slick enough, what with Jim's semen and saliva and the caramel. He could feel himself stretching around Jim's bulk, nerve endings that had barely recovered from the previous glorious assault sparking and seizing and sending him straight into his climax. He convulsed, feeling like he was dying, the way every muscle in his body clamped down and exploded, and he came just as Jim seated himself fully in the heart of him.

"Jim," he moaned. *Oh Jim.* Every nerve felt fried, disconnected, sending him flat, utterly flat and limp and covered with sweat and his simply didn't care, because Jim was thrusting, the heat and friction an incredible contrast to the memory of a slick, feathery tongue. And Jim came, and Blair was so sensitized from his own climax that he could feel the jets shooting deep within him, felt them impact his walls, making him shudder.

Jim pulled out slowly, and then it was his turn to collapse, turning half-way to the side so that he fell curled around Blair rather than on top of him. Blair somehow summoned up the strength to bring up a hand and pet the close-cropped hair, and Jim sighed and leaned into the touch.

"Wow," Blair mumbled, already half-asleep.

"Yeah," Jim panted, sounding dazed and sleepy and awed and smug. Blair thought about smacking him and decided that it could wait until morning. He felt like every muscle had melted, his bones were pure mush, and his brain wasn't far behind.

"Love you," he slurred, feeling himself losing his battle for wakefulness.

Jim turned his head and kissed his palm. "Love you too, baby."

And Blair fell asleep.