Disclaimers: Not mine, never were, never will be, the exclusive property of Pet Fly and TPTB--but I bet they have more fun when they're at my house!

Notes: This was promised to saraid one night when she wanted fic--smiles to saraid for her patience and support! Thanks, saraid! Hope you like it!

Summary: Jim, Blair, on the water.

Warnings: Nothing particularly disturbing to the typical reader of this type of genre, but homophobes and minors had best beware.

On The Water by Owlet

Jim shifted and stretched, making the canoe rock alarmingly. Blair almost dropped his pole and grabbed onto the side until Jim had stilled, then shot Jim a semi-serious glare. "Hey, man, give a little warning!"

Jim smiled broadly and deliberately swayed from side to side, creating tiny and not-so-tiny wavelets around the boat as it rocked so violently that it almost swamped. Blair growled and clung to the side of the canoe until it had steadied, then splashed Jim.

Jim sputtered, wiped lake water out of his eyes, then looked down in shock at his soaked T-shirt, and back up to give his snickering partner an irked look. "Thanks, Sandburg," he growled, stripping off the wet shirt. "All my dry clothes are back at camp."

"Hey," Blair said in surprise, "don't take it off, you'll get a sunburn." He was shirtless himself, but he'd slathered himself with sunscreen before they'd left--Jim hadn't.

Jim shrugged. "So toss me the sunscreen--it's at your end."

Blair dug around in the pack at his feet, muttering to himself. "Bandanna, soap, batteries, lube, matches, paperclips, flashlight, condoms, keys, what the--" Blair looked up and stared at his lover. "*Handcuffs?*" Blair looked up at Jim incredulously. "You brought your *handcuffs?*"

Jim flushed slightly, gave Blair a determinedly casual look, and concentrated his gaze on the spot where his fishing line entered the water. "Yeah."

"But *why?* I mean, we're fifteen miles from the nearest town. Who're you going to arrest? The squirrels?"

Jim blushed harder. "I thought--they're for tonight."

Blair stared. "Jim, I'm not really into that--"

Jim interrupted him. "I know. But, I thought...I mean, just to try it...and they aren't for you."

Blair stopped in his tracks. Now *there* was a thought--ahem. *Not now, Blair, unless you want a parboiled Sentinel for the festivities...* He shifted uncomfortably, trying to ease the pressure of his cutoffs on the erection that had come out of nowhere, and was making him think some distinctly non-fishing-conducive thoughts about his partner.

Jim was a pretty inhibited guy sexually--no surprise there. But lately he'd been showing an amazing capacity for experimentation, with Blair's example and enthusiastic support, and Blair could feel himself getting harder just thinking about the possibilities that Jim's words suggested.

Doggedly he renewed his search for the elusive sunscreen. *Where the heck is that damn-- * His fingers closed around a smooth plastic tube, and he grinned.

"Here it is," he announced, passing it to Jim, who nodded at him in thanks, still blushing, and began to spread it liberally on his arms.

Blair watched in fascination as Jim smoothed the creamy lotion across his skin, rippling muscles shifting and flexing, making the pale, fine-grained skin gleam in the sun. Down his arms from his biceps to his wrists, over his hands and each individual finger, back up to cover his chest. Blair didn't even realize he was holding his breath until Jim shot him a measuring look and smiled slightly.

"Breathe, Sandburg," he murmured.

Blair shuddered at the deep, sleepy tone, breath coming hard, mesmerized by the lazy heat and sensuality in Jim's gaze. Jim gave him another teasing look, then filled the cup of his palm with sunscreen and began applying it to his chest. Starting at the top, he rubbed the protective lotion into his skin, working in tiny circles that somehow looked *way* too much like caresses for Blair's peace of mind.

Long, elegant fingers smoothed sunscreen along the firm ridges of muscle on his chest and abdomen, splayed out to run broad, sweeping strokes over his ribs, dabbed white cream in the vulnerable hollow of his navel--in fact, there wasn't a square inch of his own skin that Jim *didn't* touch, except for the small brown nipples that were drawn up tight and dark on his chest.

Blair waited in breathless anticipation, eyes fixed on his partner, his own nipples tingling. Jim looked up and shot him a mischievous look. "What? Did I miss a spot?"

Blair groaned, and half-laughed. "Oh man, come on, Jim, don't leave me hanging here."

Jim snickered, but obligingly brought one coated finger up and rubbed delicately at a nipple, visibly shivering at the sensation. Then he repeated the move on the opposite nipple, and gave Blair an expectant look.

"Will you do my back?"

Blair grinned, and carefully clambered across the length of the canoe, while Jim turned around. Covering his hands with sunscreen, he began slathering it on, paying special attention to Jim's ribs and neck--two areas where he knew Jim was sensitive.

Carefully he drew his fingers across the sun-warmed skin of Jim's back, enjoying the texture, the slickness of the lotion being absorbed into the skin, the rippling firmness of the muscles beneath his hands. The scent of Jim and coconuts warmed and twined, rising into the air, mixing to form a thick, heady combination. Almost without volition, he lowered his head to taste.

"Ohhh," groaned Jim, as Blair flicked the tip of his tongue across Jim's shoulderblade, tasting sweat and sunscreen and musk and Jim. Jim shifted slightly, arching his back into Blair's mouth as Blair fastened his teeth delicately into a ridge of muscle and sucked hard. "Jesus, Blair, leave some skin--oh shit..." Jim groaned as Blair nipped lightly at the red mark he'd created.

"Shut up," Blair told him, grinning. Jim was his, right now, and he loved playing with his lover. Jim's senses were so potent, so full of potential--so completely *tempting,* to see how far he could be pushed, how they could be used to drive him crazy--and now he had an idea. He pulled away, sitting so that there was no direct contact between them.

"Jim, I want you to turn your sense of touch up, okay?" He saw Jim go still, and grinned. Poor Jim, his Guide was so harsh, making Jim use his senses against himself...he fought to control his snicker. "Trust me, Jim. Just do it."

Jim twisted around to give him a doubtful look, but his eyes were suspiciously hot, and Blair noted with a hidden smile the sizable bulge in his lap. He reached around Jim's body and trailed the back of his hand over the erection, knowing that the ridges of his knuckles would give more stimulation than just his fingertips. Jim yelped and gave him a dirty look.

"*Sandburg,*" he growled threateningly. Blair gave him his best innocent look, the one he usually reserved for his thesis advisors and whenever he needed someone to cover a class.

"Jim, man, don't even try. You *know* you're going to do it, so just dial it up and we'll get on with it." Blair couldn't hold back the grin that time, and Jim gave him another dirty look.

"One of these days, Sandburg," Jim muttered, closing his eyes and frowning. Blair waited patiently, watching for the signs that Jim had done what he asked. Jim shifted, twitched--and Blair pounced, leaning forward, blowing a hard stream of air against Jim's nipple. Jim shuddered hard, and opened slightly pleasure-glazed eyes. Blair smiled in satisfaction.

Perfect.

"Okay, Jim, turn around," he told the bigger man quietly, watching Jim shiver as his breath touched him. When Jim was facing away again, Blair spoke, implementing the second part of his plan. "Jim, you can't move when I touch you, okay?"

"What" Jim spun to face him, then froze, gasping and shivering as the movement stimulated his skin even more. The canoe rocked, and water splashed up the sides. Blair nodded. "That's why, Jim. If you move much, you'll swamp the boat." Blair waited. Jim didn't answer, and he nudged him slightly. "Jim?"

"I get it, Sandburg," Jim growled, hissing at Blair's touch and giving him a look that combined frustration with admiration and humor. He turned back around slowly, and threatened over his shoulder, "Just you wait, Chief..."

Blair bit Jim's shoulder, cutting off the rest of Jim's threat, then, while the older man was gasping in reaction, went into action. Oh, this was going to be fun.

He started at the top, nibbling at the vulnerable nape of his neck, loving the way Jim groaned. "Like that, babe?" he whispered, tugging at his skin with his teeth. Jim growled, and Blair nipped sharply, sending a ripple of restrained motion though the Sentinel.

Taking his time, Blair tasted his lover thoroughly, using teeth and tongue and lips against sensitive skin, all over his back. Jim was being gratifyingly noisy, thrillingly responsive, and Blair couldn't resist the temptation to bring his hands into play, stroking, kneading, skating along the edges of Jim's ribs.

"Ah! Sandburg!"

"Yeah?" Blair smirked to himself and lightly feathered the pads of his fingers across the ribs. Jim yelped with laughter and twisted away, turning to attempt a glare at Blair--a glare that metamorphosed into a hungry look when Blair casually ran a greasy hand over his own chest, playing idly with one of his own nipples.

"What?" Blair gave Jim his best look of "Me? *I* didn't do anything--you must be thinking of some *other* anthropologist" look. "Jim, if you aren't going to play, I have to do *something* to entertain myself, right?"

Jim laughed slightly, eyes fixed on Blair's face. Blair could feel himself getting harder under that hot stare, and his control was almost shattered by the sight of Jim's hand creeping back up to his chest, and circling a tight brown nipple gently. "Guess so, Chief--mind if I watch?"

Blair wondered how bad a soaking would *really* be, after all, as he watched Jim's sharp gaze go foggy and unfocused. His senses, he realized belatedly--Jim still had his sense of touch turned all the way up, and it had ambushed him *hard*--oh god, another minute more and he was going to come--

He reached forward and grabbed Jim's wrist, pulling it away. Jim shuddered hard and looked at his lover vaguely. "Wha..."

"You were zoning, Jim," Blair explained, stroking Jim's captured hand, tugging lightly on his thumb, brushing sure touches across his palm in a soothing motion. Jim shuddered again, and with feline quickness turned his hand over in Blair's, tightened, and pulled. Blair found himself laying atop a laughing Sentinel while the canoe rocked crazily, and water splashed.

A shout came from shore, and Blair jumped.

"What the..."

Jim raised his head, tilting it to one side to listen as one hand went from Blair's hand to twine in his hair, holding his head to his chest, and the other one slid down Blair's back to slip under the waistband of his cutoffs. "Who--is it?" Blair gasped, distracted by the way Jim's hand was worming further and further underneath his shorts, one long finger stretching to tease alone the sensitive crease. "Jim!"

Jim shrugged and settled back down, muscular body rippling in the shallow-hulled canoe, jostling Blair in a very...provocative...manner. If Jim kept that up, he was going to have the brains of an avocado...

"Oh, just some hikers," Jim murmured casually, exploring underneath Blair's jeans more thoroughly, before devoting his mouth's attention to the hot spot on Blair's neck. Blair moaned, then almost broke Jim's wrists when he jerked away, panting and flushed.

"*Hikers?!*"

Jim smirked and disentangled one hand from Blair's hair, lifting it up to point blindly over the gunwale of the canoe to the bank. Blair followed the direction of Jim's point, and, sure enough, there they were. A crowd of what must have been three or four hikers were clustered on the bank, staring at the heaving canoe with the two entwined men in it.

Blair was suddenly highly conscious of the low sides of the canoe, which left him almost totally exposed from the side to any watchful gaze, and the fact that Jim's hand was still underneath his jeans in back.

"Uh, Jim...Jim..." Blair fought to extricate himself from his lover's hold. "C'mon, Jim, lemme go--oh!" He moaned and collapsed back onto Jim's chest as Jim strained and stretched and finally reached Blair's opening under his cutoffs, caressing the puckered muscle. "Jim, they'll see us!"

"So?" Jim teased the rim with his middle finger, then began a very slow shallow thrusting. Blair could image the eyeful the people on shore were getting--two men, one with his hands down the pants of the other, who was writhing and thrashing on top of his lover. But it felt so good...

*Oh man...* Jim was *definitely* getting in touch with the playful side of his sexuality here!

Hikers were forgotten. For the moment, Blair didn't care if he had half the Western world watching him and Jim make love--not with Jim's long, graceful finger pressing harder and harder into him, making him see stars. He sent his hands squirming between their bodies, and forced down Jim's zipper and then his own. If Jim was willing to make love with an audience, then never let it be said Blair wasn't up to the challenge.

With both their cocks freed, Blair wrapped one hand around each of them and began stroking, residual slickness from the sunscreen easing the way, soft, soft skin over rigid strength. Jim growled and nipped at his throat, thrusting up into Blair's hand even as he sent his finger deeper into Blair's body, not trying to thrust too deeply or too quickly without lubricant but stretching the sensitive tissues and making Blair shudder with pleasure.

"I thought--ah--that you were worried about people," Jim teased, stroking the walls of Blair's opening, searching for his prostate. Blair grinned down at his lover, his pinky finger finding the spot on the underside of Jim's cock that drove him crazy.

"You want me to stop?"

"No!" Jim growled, and Blair jerked and threw his head back, gasping, as Jim found his prostate and teased it with light feathery strokes. "Oh god, Jim, don't stop--ohhhhhhh!" Reflexively his hands tightened on their erections, and Jim hissed, then moaned as his heightened sense of touch went wild under the increased pressure.

"Blair...babe, yeah, just--ohh, just like--*that*--" Jim heaved and bucked underneath Blair, trembling, and Blair felt hot silky wetness spread across his hands as Jim convulsed. His finger drove deeper as he came, and Blair moaned and came too, arching his back spasmodically to drive the digit deeper, eyes closed against the bright sun and the intensity of his climax.

When it was over they lay there--boneless, mindless, melted together, covered with semen and sweat, drowsy and sated with pleasure under the hot summer sun.

The cheers from the shore came as a complete surprise.

Blair jerked, winced, moaned, and tucked his head into Jim's shoulder. "Tell me we did not just do that Jim."

Jim stretched again to look up. "Do what, exactly," he asked distractedly, staring at the shore.

"You know what I mean! Make love in front of a bunch of hikers, in the middle of the day, in a canoe..."

"Actually," Jim corrected, still in that same absent tone, "it's grown. Five hikers, two bikers, and a park ranger. Who doesn't look particularly happy right now." He cocked his head, and Blair knew he was focusing in on their conversations. "Although one of the bikers has a great suggestion for what we could do with the sunscreen..."

Blair gave him an incredulous look. "You're kidding me," he said blankly, and Jim shook his head, grinning. "Oh man...," he pushed up from his limp sprawl across his lover, and stared at the shore. And collapsed back on Jim.

"We're dead," he mumbled into Jim's chest. "No, correction, *you're* dead, I am *not* explaining to Simon how we got pulled in for public indecency out in the middle of Rainier State Park by a morally outraged park ranger..." He was silenced by Jim pulling up his head and kissing him soundly.

"We could always go for two, make it really worthwhile," Jim purred hopefully, and Blair rolled his eyes.

"No way, man. No. Jim, no. Don't--ahhh...oh Jim--" With the last of his strength, Blair analyzed the situation, the contents of the canoe, and the warm, solid strength of his lover. The lover who was currently suckling on his neck, and trying to ease his finger back into Blair's ass. The lover who was already half-way there to getting him hot enough for another round--in front of god, the hikers, the bikers, and the park ranger.

"Sorry, Jim, but..." He ran his fingers across Jim's ribs, tickling him and making him squirm and the canoe rock, then dropped a quick kiss on Jim's open mouth and took a deep breath. "I really don't think that's a good idea, so..."

He threw his weight to the side. The canoe flipped. And Blair, Jim, and all their gear went into the lake.

Two hours later, a wet, scowling Jim looked over at Blair and glared. "You've got a mean streak, you know that?"

Blair gave his lover a sympathetic look and continued sifting though their soaked gear. "I'm sorry," he said easily.

"You owe me for this, Sandburg. Big time. And I *am* going to collect on it."

Blair shivered. Oh man, this should be good--"Hey! The divers saved the handcuffs!"

The End