Jim had been sitting at the dinning room table for at least two long and boring hours. He was tired and his muscles ached from sitting in one position for so long. But he could not quit. To quit meant he would lose the latest contest of wills between himself and his partner, turned lover.

He fought hard for this time to complete the many tasks and chores that had accumulated over the last few weeks. Now, he just wanted to relax in his lover's arms, perhaps even get one of Blair's special back rubs.

Jim looked over at Blair who was currently leaning against the kitchen counter, blue eyes staring at him intently, a frown marring his "Here take this, man." Blair tossed a small coin in his direction.

Jim caught the object with little thought, studied it for a moment and placed it next to the stack of cancelled checks. "I'm touched, Chief. I've had my eye on this yacht…"

"That's a funny one, Jim." Blair pushed himself away from the counter and sat at the table. "You've been looking for that damn penny for two hours now. Give it up, man."

Jim sighed. "We've already had this conversation."

"No, Jim. You've had this conversation. Me, I'm watching you go insane over a penny."

Jim leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest. "Okay, I'll bite. When was the last time you balanced your checkbook?"

"Never bothered," Blair waved his hands dismissively.

Jim stared at him for a moment, then shook his head in confusion. "How do you know how much money you have in your account?"

"I've got the perfect system," Blair said in his best lecture voice. "Every time I deposit a check, I make believe that's all the money I have in the account. Then, as I write checks, I round up to the nearest 5 dollars. Bingo, more than enough money in the account."

Jim shook his head. "Well, Mr. Drysdale, you are one step away from financial ruin."

Blair laughed. "Jim, I've been a college student for an entire decade. Me and financial ruin go out for drinks on Friday nights." Blair tucked an errant curl behind his ear and sighed. "Come on, man. Write it off. Let's go shoot hoops or something. I'll even spot you a few points."

"No, Chief. I can't. Between our recent caseload and you."

"Me? What the hell have I done?"

"Let me finish. You're great. We're great. All I'm saying is that since we," Jim paused for a moment, pointing back and forth.

"Started boffing like bunnies?" Blair offered innocently.

Jim rubbed his forehead and shook his head. "Very eloquent, Teach. As I was going to say, since we started dating, all my spare time, all two hours of it, I've spent paying bills and doing chores around the loft. All I'm trying to say here is that I need to take some time and get organized."

"Jim, you were born organized. Besides, it's just a fucking penny."

"Please, Chief. Go watch TV or surf the web. Something. Just let me finish this. Okay?"

Jim looked down at the stack of papers on the table hoping that Blair would get the hint and stop distracting him.

From the corner of his eye he watched the young man walk into the kitchen, grab himself a beer and stroll into the living room. He flung himself onto the sofa and picked up the remote control. Click. Laughter. Click. Animal roar. Click. Guy talking. Click. Music.

Jim glared at his roommate-turned-irritant. "Little passive aggressive there aren't ya, Chief?"

Blair placed the remote on his lap, freeing his left hand. He raised his hand in Jim's direction and extended his middle finger.

Chuckling softly Jim sorted the receipts for April.

"Hey, Jim?"

"Yeah?"

"Alan Greenspan is on Larry King. You want me to get him on the phone? He'd probably be able to give you a few pointers."

Jim rubbed his forehead and sighed. "I'm going to finish this upstairs." He gathered his receipts, bank statements and his calculator. Halfway up the loft stairs, Jim turned and glared at this lover. "Don't come up."

"Don't come up," Blair muttered under his breath as he stretched out on the sofa. "Great. I get stuck with an Adonis with five heighten senses and no sense of humor."

"I heard that, Chief." Jim shouted over the railing.

"No. Really?"

Jim ignored the comment. He placed the receipts, bank statements and cancelled checks on the yellow comforter, sorting the items by month. He scooped up the May receipts and sat down at the small desk. He checked a few totals on the bank statement and then began entering numbers in the calculator.

He was halfway through the month when he heard the thud of rubber souls hitting the hardwood floor. Must be Blair's sneakers he thought to himself as he subtracted two more checks from the total.

Moments later he heard the metal on metal sound of a zipper, followed by the sound of denim moving across flesh. Jim looked over the railing. A stream of sunlight filtered through the window, encasing his lover in a yellow glow. The sight left him breathless and the lust he felt for this beautiful man pounded through his veins.

Blair, wearing nothing more than his shirt and his boxer shorts, looked up and smiled. "Something you need, Jim?"

Jim rubbed the back of his neck for a moment. "No, I'm good. I thought I heard something. Sorry for bothering you."

"Whatever you say, Jim."

Jim scooped up the June receipts as he sat back down at the desk and he entered a few more numbers in the calculator.

A musky scent that he associated with Blair's arousal circled his head and trickled up his nostrils. He slid his dial up a notch or two, savoring the scent.

He shifted uncomfortably in the chair and then craned his neck in an attempt to see Blair through the railing. His lover's hair obscured his face, but Jim's eyes were drawn, instead, to Blair's hands. Strong fingertips were gently caressing the rim just beneath the purple head of his cock. His hands lowered to the base of the shaft, his fingertips on one side and his thumb on the other. Squeezing gently, he ran his right hand up and down the shaft, his thumb taking a moment to caress the head.

A bolt of electricity tingled down Jim's body and with no more thought than trying to get a better look, he climbed onto the bed. Receipts and banks statements crinkled under his knees, a few slide off the bed landing on the floor below.

Jim leaned his upper torso against the railing and unzipped his fly. He reached in and fisted his cock with both hands. Now, with his view of Blair unobstructed, he watched as Blair stroked the underside of his shaft, his thumbs alternating between rubbing the head and tracing the rim with his thumbnail.

As if on autopilot, Jim's hands did the same. They traced the line from the head of the cock to the base and then squeezed gently.

Jim dialed up his sight to watch a drop of Blair's pre-ejaculate, glistening in the afternoon sun, drip from the head. He closed his eyes and dialed up smell to savor the salty musk.

"Oh my God. Jim, " he heard Blair moan. Jim opened his eyes to feast on his lover below.

Blair's right hand squeezed and released the based of his shaft. The left hand scratched and rolled the sacks underneath. He cupped his hands under his cock and squeezed. Enclosing his fists around the rod, he pulled from base to head. Once. Twice. Over and over.

Jim thrust forward as he too established the base to head rhythm. His knuckles scrapped against the metal rail but he was too busy watching the sweat fall from Blair's face to notice. Base to head. Base to head. Harder and faster.

Jim threw his head back and closed his eyes. His body trembled with need.

"I'm gonna cum, Jim. Just for you."

Jim opened his eyes to see Blair's body stiffen and seed erupt from his cock. Blair thrust a final time, causing some of the sticky fluid to splatter on the back of the blue sofa.

Jim leg and ass muscles tighted. His hips surged forward as the cum exploded from his cock and spilled onto the bed and the railing. His upper body fell against the railing as he struggled to regain his breath.

Jim pushed himself away from the railing and stepped onto the floor, careful to not disrupt any more stacks of paper. He wiggled out of his jeans and tossed them in the laundry basket in the corner.

He reached down to pick up a stack of receipts that had dropped to the floor. "Ah shit."

"Jim?" a disembodied voice asked from the living room below.

Jim leaned over the railing, holding a stack of rumpled and wet receipts in his hands. "I creamed July."

The end

Feedback welcome. Email me at Vikster@mediaone.net