"Fuck!" said Blair, underneath his breath. "Fuck, fuck, fuck." He began punching the enter key on his laptop along with the rhythm of his words.
"Sandburg," Jim said, "sometimes I do wish you'd learn a few new words." Jim had had a very annoying day, and was just not in the mood for a Sandburg-laptop showdown.
"Oh, like you never let one fly once in a while, like every day," said the aggravated student. He continued to curse and Jim, sighing deeply, got up and moved very deliberately into the kitchen. There he banged around, opening cabinet doors, while Blair continued to blaspheme. "Dammit! Fuck! Shit, I just lost my frigging-" He looked up in surprise as Jim walked back over and firmly shut his laptop. "What the hell are you doing, man? That's my-"
'This," said Jim, holding out a glass jar, "is the cursing jar."
"What?" It took Blair a moment to focus on the clear object in Jim's hand.
"The cursing jar," Jim explained patiently. "It works like this. Every time you or I say a particularly nasty four-letter word, then we have to put something in the jar."
Blair stared at him for a moment before his face twisted into an amused grin. "What?" he asked.
"That way I don't have to hear all your ranting when I've had a long day," said the detective.
"Well, excuse me, but you don't like, have exactly the exclusive rights to having a bad day around here," Blair reminded him.
Jim shrugged. "You couldn't do it, anyway," he said.
"Oh, right," said Blair.
"Sandburg, you couldn't go a week without having to put something in this jar."
"Good try with the reverse psychology there, but I have had that pulled on me before."
"I'll bet you."
There was a silence as Blair mulled over the challenge. A cursing jar. Okay. God only knew where and why Jim had come up with that. He looked up at the sentinel, said, "Okay, tough guy, tell me how this little thing works. We put money in, right? And by the way, what's our bet? Dinner anywhere I want?"
"Didn't you ever hear of a cursing jar when you were a kid?" Jim asked, settling down on the arm of the sofa. No, what was I thinking? he thought, but he kept that musing to himself. "They were practically an epidemic in my neighborhood. Every time someone said a bad word, like darn, or jeez, actually, they had to put a penny into the jar."
"A penny," said Blair, actually getting a little interested in the project at hand. Of course, any kind of story from Jim's childhood fascinated him. "Well, I guess even I could manage that."
"No, too easy," said Jim.
"Hey, I'm not a wealthy man here," Blair said.
"That sounds like a man who thinks he's going to lose the bet," Jim said rather smugly.
"No way," said Blair, into it now. "We'll see, buddy. So what are we putting in?"
"Well," Jim said, "I think we should put something in, you know, like a little piece of paper that says...I will clean the toilet next time it is Jim's turn, something like that."
"Oh, I see," said Blair. "Boy, some people will do anything to get chores done."
"No," said Jim, "you can put in anything. Like, say, if I curse outrageously, then I could put in, I will take Blair out to dinner anyplace he wants."
"Okay," said Blair, leaning back and thinking about this. "This might be a good idea after all. But you can't say," he quickly added, "something like, today I won't complain about Blair's music."
"No, but I could say, I won't complain if Blair makes tongue and will even eat it."
"Oh yeah!" Blair laughed. "Okay, and I could say, today I will make my bed and not complain about it."
"No, hotshot, it has to be something for the other person. Not complaining doesn't count. Like you could say, 'Today I'm going to take Jim to Wonderburger.'"
"And how does this work exactly?" Blair asked.
"Well, I thought we'd do it like this," said Jim. He unscrewed the lid of the jar. "You think of ten things and put them in the jar. Then every time you curse, I get to pick one out."
"What about you?" Blair demanded. "I knew I'd get the short end of the stick."
"I'll just have my own jar," said Jim. "And I'll put in ten things I'll do for you. Then when I curse, you can pick one out of there."
This idea was actually sounding interesting to Blair. "Okay," he said. "But what if I curse more than ten times?"
"Well, we'll just have to keep filling up the jars," said Jim. "Not that it matters. The bet was for a week, right? Whoever's had to do the most chores for the other loses."
"I'm not going to have to do any chores, so that won't be a problem," said Blair. Then he said, "I really don't curse that much, you know."
"Chief, you sound like a darn sailor," Jim said.
"Have I really been bothering you with it? Because I do try, man, and by the way, what counts? Don't say hell or damn, please."
"Okay," said Jim, thinking about this. "How about fuck, shit, anything above that."
"Hey, man, I don't do vulgar," said Blair, much offended.
"Then you shouldn't have any problem, should you?" Jim said. Then he said, "On second thought, let's make it interesting. No damns, either."
"Jim! What about hell?" the student asked curiously.
"Hell, too," said Jim.
"Oh my god," said Blair.
"No Jesus, or Christ, either," Jim said, his mouth turning up in amusement.
"I didn't know that bothered you."
"This is a matter of principle here, Sandburg. Willpower. And don't think that means you can go around saying, 'Jehovah' and things like that, either."
"What about Buddha? Hecate? Jim, there are hundreds-"
"I think you're missing the point here," Jim said dryly. "You know what I mean. Quit trying to be difficult."
Blair thought about this a moment, then laughed. "Guess this is sort of like that Seinfeld master of your domain thing, right? Good thing we're not playing THAT."
Jim had to smile at that, too. He thought about saying, "I'd win that for sure," but decided he'd better not go there. Not tonight, anyway.
"Not that it matters anyway," said the student smugly, "because I'm going to beat the crap out of you, oh, dammit, does crap count?"
"Nope," said Jim. "But dammit does." He handed the jar over to Blair with a big smile. "Better start writing, Sandburg."
On Friday, Jim was humming as he stepped into the loft. He had had a good week. His truck had gotten washed, his clothes taken to and picked up from the dry cleaners, his workout shoes cleaned and then Blair had gotten that nasty little spot out of Jim's favorite shirt. And just in one week. "Hey," he said, throwing his keys in the basket. "Something smells good."
"I had to pick up Wonderburger stuff today, remember?" Blair asked sourly. A little "fuck" at breakfast had earned him that duty. "You know, Jim, I'm just about ready to quit this game. I mean, sure it was funny at first, but I'm a grown man. And my language is really not that bad."
"Beaten, huh?" Jim asked, amused.
"No, just, I mean, what's the big deal, right?"
"Whatever," Jim sighed.
"And you haven't said a dang thing," said Blair, even more miffed at that. All week he had lain in wait for the sentinel to mess up, but not once had a four letter work of that ilk slipped out of Jim's mouth. "But I still have the weekend," he reminded his roommate.
Jim was still smiling as he bit into his burger. "Heavenly," he said.
Later, however, Blair was smiling, too. He had had a great idea, and that idea was to watch the Jags game on TV. If ever there were a time for a little cursing, that would be it. Pretending to work on his laptop, he sat in the living area and watched Jim jump about like a wild man. Wilkins had four fouls and the Jags were down by four when the ref made a call that Jim really just could not tolerate. "What!" he erupted. "I can't believe that-"
And unbelievably, Blair, who had gotten into the game despite himself, was the one who said, "Man, he was fucking robbed." And then he just sank back in his chair and clapped his hand over his mouth. "Well fuck," he said again, defeated. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."
Jim was looking at him now.
"Hey, if I'm going to screw up, then why not go all the way, right?" Blair asked. "Five fucks. Dammit. Oh, and that, too. Six things. Man. Jim, I don't even know if I can think of six things."
"Go write some down," said Jim, who was having a fine time. "If you need suggestions, the oil in the truck needs changing. I'd like to have some of those blueberry pancakes you make, in bed, and-"
"I get the picture," said Blair, getting up and stomping off. He could still hear Jim's laughter behind him "Only a few more days, Ellison!" he called out behind him, and then he thought...I ought to get him back somehow. What could I do to turn the tables on Mr. Smug in there? What could I volunteer to do for him that he just would not want.... And then, despite himself, Blair thought he might have a horribly wonderful idea. Oh, yeah, he thought in triumph. The one thing that would make Jim Ellison cut this little game right short. And he started feverishly writing, chuckling at his own bravado and clever wit.
Later, Jim turned the lights off in the loft, headed up for bed. At Blair's room, he stopped and said, "Chief, we can nix the cursing jar if you want. You've been a good sport about it. I was really just doing it to get your goat. You can take me to dinner, of course, just to show no hard feelings."
"Nope," said Blair, looking up happily. "I said I would do it, and I will. And by the way, I owe you six things, don't I? Well, here's the jar." And he held it out triumphantly.
What's this about? Jim thought, narrowing his brows. Sandburg was definitely up to something. God only knew what whacked-out thing his mind might have thought out now; Sandburg could be pretty creative. But nothing, absolutely nothing prepared Jim for the moment when he pulled out that first little strip of paper and read the words on it to himself.
Oh. My. God.
Jim looked up, shocked. "Sandburg!" he said. "I ought to make you write more just for this."
"Hey, the only thing you said was that it had to be something for you," said the student, flushed but determined to finish it out.
"Yeah, but not-" Jim started to get angry, but then he thought, no, that is exactly what Blair wants you to do. He thought he would trump you by writing this, because he was totally sure you would then get mad and shut the contest down immediately. Jim glanced back at the words. "I will get underneath your desk at work and give you oral sex," said the paper.
"Which one did you get?" Blair asked, unable to keep from smiling, though his cheeks were tinged with embarrassment. Jim might really get mad at his little joke here; the cop could sometimes be a bit hard to read on such matters. He was starting to regret his hasty decision, wished he had thought it through a little bit more. He didn't want Jim to do something extreme here, something like throw him out of the loft.
But to Sandburg's utter and complete surprise, Jim, his face a total mask, said, "Get your coat on, Sandburg."
Blair's face paled. Shit, what did this mean? Was Jim throwing him out? Oh my god! "Jim, Jim," he said hastily, moving over to him. "I was just kidding, man. Really, I was just kidding, okay? My idea of a bad joke-"
"It doesn't look like a bad joke to me," said Jim, wondering how far he should take his little charade. This ought to scare Blair into his next life. "You've offered to do something, and I'm taking you up on it." He had to turn around at the look on Blair's face, afraid he would laugh out loud. "Get your jacket."
Obviously very worried and trying to think what in the hell he had offered that might involve getting his coat, Blair did what Jim said and followed his silent partner to the truck. Where in the hell were they going this late at night? As they drove through the quiet streets of Cascade, Blair finally ventured a look over at his best friend. "You know I was just kidding, right?" he asked.
Again, Jim fought to keep down the laughter. He would have been pissed if Blair's apprehension now weren't so priceless. Oh yeah, this was going to be good. When they got to the station, Blair blanched.
"Oh, man," he said. "Oh, man, I was just kidding. Jim! Not the...this isn't...."
"The blow job under my desk? Oh yeah, Sandburg, I think it might be," said Jim, as Blair followed him numbly into the elevator. Major Crimes was practically deserted. A couple of folks were out on stakeouts and Jim knew they wouldn't be back until later. Somebody down the hall was typing, but even the lights were off in the bullpen. Jim didn't turn them on, instead, just walked over to his desk and sat down. Looked at Blair, who was standing petrified a few feet away.
"Come on," said Jim, holding his hands out and scooting his chair back so that Blair could get underneath his desk.
"Jim," whispered Blair, totally at a loss now.
"Hey, we don't have all night. At least there is no one here," said Jim.
Blair moved over to the desk, stared at his partner. "Jim, I was just kidding, man. Okay, it was a bad joke, but-"
"You didn't call off the game," Jim said. "You wrote the things down. I wanted blueberry pancakes for breakfast, but no, you offered to suck my dick instead. So, as much as I would probably prefer the pancakes, I've got no choice, do I? It was an offered service."
As Blair scrambled between Jim and the desk, he almost looked like he was going to cry, and Jim immediately felt too bad to let the charade continue any farther. Just as he began, "Blair, I was just kidding-" however, H and Rafe walked into the bullpen and turned on the light. Blair, who had just gotten to his knees underneath the desk, froze. Oh my god.
"Hey, Ellison," said Rafe, "what are you doing here in the dark?"
Blair waited, still, and then had a most wonderfully wicked idea. I'll get you, he thought. Just kidding. That asshole! Oh yeah, we'd see who was kidding whom here. And as Rafe and H continued to settle down nearby and tell Jim about their stakeout, the sentinel felt a pair of hands creep up the inside of his jeans.
What the fuck????? Jim jerked, hit his elbow on the top of the desk and damn, that hurt. Rafe and H looked at him strangely and started laughing. Thank god I have one of those privacy panels on the front of this desk, Jim thought. What the hell was Sandburg doing? Did Blair really think he had been serious about this?
"Looks like you need to go home, Ellison," H said.
Ellison, still rubbing his elbow, felt two fingers moved up tentatively to his zipper. Oh my god. Oh my god. He knew Sandburg wasn't going to do this, fucking hell, what in the...? Quietly, Blair's nimble fingers were removing the button from the buttonhole and then slowly, one tooth at a time, pulling down that zipper.
I ought to embarrass the hell out of him, Jim thought meanly, wildly. I should just get up right now and say, What the hell are you doing, Sandburg? But then Rafe and H would wonder exactly what I was doing, too. Like I wouldn't have known Blair was underneath my desk. So he said nothing, did nothing, as he felt, unbelievingly, Blair open his pants and start on the boxers underneath
"I'm starting to wonder if Pardue is really guilty," said H.
"He's as guilty as a rat's ass," said his partner in disgust.
"I don't know, man," H returned. "Did you see him in the interview? Cool as a cucumber. Didn't try to hide a thing."
Jim listened to these speculations in a surreal fog as the hesitant fingers in his lap started touching his bare cock. Oh...my...god....
"What do you think, Ellison?" Rafe asked. "Guilty or innocent?"
"Well," said Jim, clearing his throat and propping his elbows on his desk "Hard to say, really. He acted cool, you're right, H."
They were both still looking at him and Jim wondered why. Did he look strange? Flushed? Was he making sense? What had he said? And then he felt Blair's weight between his legs, felt the end of a tongue lick across his dick.
"Oh, shit," said Jim.
Rafe and H just looked at him.
"What's wrong?" Rafe asked solicitously.
"Nothing," said Jim, as that wet tongue made its way a bit further down his shaft. Blair was apparently licking him, pushing his tongue toward the base of Jim's cock. "Just paperwork, that's all."
"You okay?" Rafe asked. "And where's Hairboy?"
Oh, if you only knew, thought Jim. Instead he said, "Yeah, just tired. Thinking about some paperwork I missed. Blair? I guess he's around somewhere," he said, and he could feel the vibrations of Blair's tongue against his cock as the younger man tried not to laugh.
My god, Blair thought in a strange mixture of excitement and disbelief, I'm touching another's man's dick. I'm touching Jim's dick! Shit! Then he thought, good thing the cursing jars weren't around, because he'd be up shit creek without a paddle. And hadn't the big man just said a four-letter word? He was half-squatting in a very awkward position, but Jim was hardening quickly underneath him, so he decided to keep doing what he was doing. Then he changed his mind and what the hell, deep-throated his best friend. Oh yeah, Blair was getting a little bit excited, too. After all, it was so forbidden. He was giving a man a blowjob from underneath a desk! He could not believe it. He hadn't even had heterosexual sex in this position.
Jim was smiling strangely at Rafe, realized it, and quickly looked down at his desk. Since he had been sitting in the dark when they came in, he really had nothing much to look at, so he quickly picked up a folder, started reading it intently. If he looked down, he could see the bare tips of Blair's fingers on his thigh for balance. What in god's name was Sandburg doing? Oh my god. The stroking was getting intense. Couldn't the other two men hear it?
"The radio bother you guys?" Jim asked, getting Sandburg's out of his desk drawer. He never listened to the radio at work.
"Fine with me," said Rafe, "I'm outta here anyway."
Thank god! thought Jim. He nearly sighed from relief, and then nearly sighed from something else. Blair had increased his stroking and licking, and was now twisting Jim's cock around in his mouth in an excruciatingly wonderful little move. Jim's fingers gripped the edge of the desk with the force of a god's.
And then, finally, Rafe and H were both getting jackets, both saying goodbye, and as soon as they walked out, Jim just put his head down on the desk and came right into Blair's mouth.
Then, from underneath the desk, there was silence.
"Uh," Blair finally whispered, "are we alone?" In response, Jim quickly reached down and put himself back into his clothes, fastened himself up. He was wet there. Wet from semen and his roommate's saliva. Blair's saliva. Blair's mouth had been on his cock.
"Yes," he said, not knowing what else to say. He got up, quickly pushed back. Blair, who really wanted to stay under the desk for a while, finally took a deep breath and crawled out with as much dignity as he could muster. He tried not to put his wet right hand down on the floor. His mouth was very slick and swollen. Jim had too look away before his already spent cock gave another leap. Shit! This was Blair he was talking about here! My god!
Blair thought, my god, what had he done? What had he done to them? "Well," said Blair. "One down, five to go," and shaking, he walked out of the building before Jim.
The rest of the night, things were very silent in the truck and in the loft. No one knew exactly what to say. Back at the door of his room, Blair slid uneasy eyes at his roommate, then said, "Good night." Later, Jim heard Blair vigorously brushing his teeth. Oh man. He wondered what Blair was thinking. He hoped he wasn't thinking that Jim had just forced him to have sex. This was not the way things were supposed to turn out!
Jim tossed and turned all night; Blair, feverish and heart pounding, masturbated to things he would not want to recall at a later date. The next morning, he crept uncertainly into the kitchen.
"Morning," said Jim. It was Saturday and he was off. As he casually set breakfast down in front of his roommate, he said, "I owe you a thing."
Blair's heart leapt into overdrive. "What?"
Jim shrugged, wouldn't meet his gaze. "The cursing jar."
Blair's eyes focused on his omelet. Oh yeah, he remembered now. That "oh shit" when Blair had touched the bigger man's cock. He could not look up and meet Jim's gaze, not while Jim was actually looking at him. "Okay, bring out the jar," Blair said.
Without another word, Jim went upstairs to where he kept his particular jar and returned with it. Unlike Blair, who had gotten stuck with the Mason jar, Jim was using a colored bottle with a cork in it.
"Where'd you get that?" Blair asked, as he pulled out the stopper.
"Rhonda or somebody at the station got it for me. Birthday or something."
Blair pulled out, "Wash and wax the Volvo," and nearly fell over with relief. At least 99 percent of it was relief. He didn't want to look and see what the other part was. Then he heard himself saying, "I owe you at least five more."
Jim just shrugged, the excitement running teasing fingers along his spine, and said, "Okay."
Swallowing, Blair went to his room and got his jar. Five pieces of paper lay within, taunting him. "I can-" he began, wanting to say that he could write others, but Jim had already unscrewed the lid and reached on inside. He read the contents of the paper with an absolute stoic face while Blair waited fretfully for the news. A huge knot was fisting in the bottom of his stomach.
After Jim read the paper again, he just shook his head, handed the paper to Sandburg, and walked away. Breakfast was forgotten. He took his plate to the kitchen area and picked at it as Blair sat silently at the table. Then Jim put up his dishes, said, "I'm taking the Volvo," and walked out the door.
"Shit," said Blair aloud, glad that no one was around to hear it. He lay back against his chair, heart pounding. What in god's name had he gotten himself into?
Man, this car stinks, Jim thought, coaxing the Volvo to life and taking it to the nearest car wash place. The only saving grace was that it smelled a bit like Blair, too. There was paper and books scattered all over the backseat and floorboards, so Jim nixed the idea of an inside cleaning job as well. Instead, he handed the car over to the people running the carwash and waited inside with a magazine while they did a quick wash job. When he saw it might be longer for the wax, he got a ride from a local boy in blue and headed to the station to catch up on a few things.
"I thought you were off today," said Conner.
"Was," said Ellison. He stood at his desk for a moment, fingers tapping on its organized surface. Couldn't help but look down at the floor underneath it. Wondered if he could still smell the remnants of last night's activities if he tried hard enough. Wondered if Blair's knees had hurt. Had gotten dirty. Wondered if Blair's hands had been clean. Wondered if the student had ever sucked a man's cock before. For some reason, he didn't believe he had.
Jim piddled around the office for a bit, getting little done, then caught a ride back to the freshly waxed Volvo.
"This thing really is a beauty when she's cleaned up," said the college student who had finished with it.
"It's not mine," said Jim's. "It's a friend's." A friend's, he thought, getting back in the car. A friend who gets down on his knees and sucks me off at my office. Then, unbelievingly, he felt himself start to harden at the words. Fuck.
Oops.
Back at the loft, Blair looked up immediately when his roommate walked in. He had been brooding there in a dither ever since the big man had gone out.
"Car's done," said Jim, dropping Blair's keys into the basket. "You know, you might think about actually cleaning it once in a while."
"You didn't move anything around, did you?" Blair immediately demanded, looking most suspicious.
"Didn't touch a speck of dirt," said Jim. Then he just stood there for a moment, looked at the mail.
Finally, Blair stood up, plucked at his own tee-shirt nervously. Jim turned around to face him.
"Uh," said Blair, "you want me to run the water?"
"Fine," said Jim, face impassive. Blair was going to give him a bath. Man. Moving numbly in this unforeseen world of new experiences, Jim walked upstairs, took his clothes off, put on a robe. He was naked underneath. He was naked, and Blair was going to give him a bath. And suddenly the thought of Blair's hands all over his body was almost more than he could bear. If only he had had time to jack off first. He hoped his anatomy didn't betray him once he got downstairs.
In the bathroom, Blair bent over and tested the temperature of the water with his hand. He was shaking; trying to fight off hyperventilation. Giving a man a bath. What in god's name had he been thinking? Well, at least, he thought, his stomach rolling, it wasn't that other thing, the contents of one of the little slips of paper that had not yet been read. Shit. My god. What was he going to do then?
Jim walked into the bathroom and Blair glanced at him nervously. He was wearing a robe. He's wearing a robe, Blair thought nonsensically. My god, he's wearing a robe. He might even be naked underneath it. He will be naked in that tub. Then he thought, so? You had his cock in your mouth last night, what are you going on so about?
As casually as if he did this every day, Jim dropped the robe, giving the quickly looking away Blair a great deal of expanse of smooth skin to consider. Then the cop stepped into the tub and sank down into the warm water.
"Hope it's not too hot," Blair said inanely. "I tried to be careful. I mean, because of your senses and stuff."
Jim nodded. He just sat there.
Uh, my move, Blair thought. He swallowed, took the soap and said, "Okay." Getting down on his knees beside the tub (I'm always getting on my knees with him), he tentatively reached over and started rubbing Jim's chest with the soap. It was awkward; Blair had to lean in and grip the side of the bath for balance. He tried to look business-like, efficient. Pretend you're an orderly in the hospital, he thought. Those people do stuff like this all the time. Only most orderlies hadn't had the patient's cock in their mouth the night before, Blair thought rather grimly.
Carefully, Blair moved the soap across Jim's shoulders (man, what shoulders), the inside of his arm, the pits as Jim held the arm up, looked away. If it hadn't been so strange, Blair would have laughed. It was just too bizarre. Then he washed Jim's elbows, his forearm, soaped his fingers. Jim had strong fingers, he thought. Incredible forearms. He said, "How old were you when you started working out?"
"After high school," said Jim. "I was a pretty skinny kid."
"So one day you just decided you wanted to work out?" Blair asked, trying hard to make normal-sounding conversation. He started washing Jim's back.
"Really it was to get in shape for the army," Jim said. Physically as well as mentally, he thought. He hadn't wanted to get knocked around in there.
Blair stretched across the tub behind Jim's back and awkwardly got Jim's other arm and side. He was getting wet; his tee-shirt had huge splotches of water on it. Then he moved back in front of Jim, moved the soap across that sculpted chest again. Hard pecs. Stiff nipples. Blair couldn't help but think about the feeling of them in his hands. It wasn't that different from touching a woman. The basic concept was still there. He moved the soap down Jim's rippled abdomen. He could see Jim's penis bobbing in the water; Jim was hard. Blair's left arm was starting to ache, and other parts were as well. He was getting hard, too, dammit. Fuck.
Blair touched Jim's lower belly, avoided his groin and headed for the legs. Long, lean, muscles. He bathed the thighs, rubbed the hair on the calves, watch it lay flat with the soap and water. Them he took Jim's feet, washed them carefully. "You ticklish?" he asked.
Surprised, Jim said, "Don't even think about it."
"You know, I've never thought about that," said Blair. "You might be extra-ticklish, with your abilities."
"Or I could dial them down," Jim replied.
Blair wondered if he was doing that now. He was hard even if he had, Blair thought dispassionately. Then both legs were done and there were only a few parts left.
Sandburg, Jim thought about saying, it's okay, and letting him off the hook, but Blair had already soaped up his hands and gently, very gently, slid them between Jim's legs. Trying not to gasp, Jim said, "Don't you ever use a washcloth, Sandburg?"
"Do you want me to get one?" Blair asked immediately, stricken.
"No, this is okay," said Jim.
Quickly, Blair massaged Jim's balls, slid his hands down the slick cock. Washed the head. The head I washed with my tongue last night, he thought wildly. Then he said, "Uh," and pulled back, not meeting Jim's eyes, before glancing at the Sentinel's water-covered backside. Jim, understanding, sloshed around in the tub, not believing he was doing this. Then he got up on his knees and for the first time, Blair got a good look at that tight rear end. Hands nearly shaking, the younger man leaned over and started rubbing the soap down the cleft of Jim's ass. By the time he ran his slick fingers down across Jim's innermost parts, he was so hard himself that he nearly gasped aloud. Then he was fumbling around under Jim's balls.
Then he was done.
Rising quickly off his aching knees, Blair got a towel, held it out to Jim, who took it and casually wrapped it around his waist. "Thanks," he said, like Blair had just passed the salt and not given him a completely up-close and personal bathing experience.
"No sweat," said Blair, and stumbled out of the bathroom. Two done, four more to go, he thought, his stomach clenching. And he remembered what some of those four were. Oh, god.
Jim said nothing else about his other owed things, indeed, was going to quietly drop it, but later that evening, Blair said, "Jim, I owe you four more."
And for some reason, Jim said, "Okay." I'll just draw, he thought. Just draw one and see what it is before I refuse. Not meeting his eyes, Blair slid off the sofa and headed for the jar. He held it out to Jim, and the bigger man took another slip of paper. Then he started laughing.
"Oh god," said Blair, closing his eyes. He had a pretty good idea of what this one might be.
His mouth twitching, Jim said, "So. Are you going to do this out on Prospect Street here? Or will we be at a car wash?"
Blair closed his eyes, sagged against the arm of the couch.
"You wanna do it now? It's dark. It's also been a warm day."
"Where are we going to go?" Blair demanded. "I don't want to be arrested!"
Jim thought about it for a moment, then said, "How about the back yard of my dad's place? He's gone on a golf trip with some friends of his. There's some private spots there."
Blair was gaping. "Are you serious?"
"Hey, you offered."
Blair wondered what in the world Jim would think about the slip of papers still in the jar. "I can't believe this," he said.
"I can't believe you offered," said Jim. "Can I take pictures? Video? I'm sure it would sell."
"You are mean," said Blair, shaking his head as he stomped off to get a bucket and soap.
Some time later, the two men had driven Jim's truck into the backyard at Jim's dad's house. At night, in one corner of the yard, no one could see for the high fence and the greenery. Jim got out, hooked up a hose to the outside faucet. Then he turned to Blair and said, "There you are, car wash boy."
Not knowing whether to laugh or cry, Blair just turned around and jerked off his two shirts. Then he started on his belt, determined to see this thing through to the very end.
Behind him, Jim watched as the jeans came down, followed by the boxers. Finally, Blair was naked. Holding the bucket in front of certain vital parts, he turned around and said, "Okay. Happy now?"
Jim was laughing, almost said, "Hey, forget it," but Blair was backing up with exaggerated movements, looking sheepish and defiant all at once. Then he started filling up the bucket, squatting down in a futile attempt to look more covered in the darkness. Jim would be a sentinel, Blair fumed to himself. He could see everything, even at night. But Jim wasn't watching too closely, of course. Tease Blair he might, but he didn't want to go too far. But then again, he thought, Blair has seen me naked. In the last two days, Blair has touched every part of my naked body, even swallowed some products of it. Why shouldn't I at least get to see him?
Blair hid himself behind the truck for a while, and Jim settled down in a lawn chair and stretched out. He couldn't hide behind there forever. Sure enough, finally the student was tired of scrubbing that side, and had to wash the other one. Shooting Jim anxious eyes, he started out at the corners, finally giving up on any pretense of backside modesty and moving right into full view.
It was a very nice view, Jim thought, surveying the firm round curves of Blair's rear. In the moonlight the younger man's skin almost glowed, and Jim found his gaze trailing down the dark crack to what lay hidden just out of view. And yes, his body was finding this strangely exciting.
What is going on here? he asked himself. How did he and Blair get to be so suddenly connected like this? Who was he kidding? This wasn't just about friendship and love, it had passed that eons ago. It was about sex.
Or was he just crazy?
Blair squatted to get down to the tire work, and Jim suddenly found himself breathing a little harder. Okay. In the darkness, the younger man looked like some kind of longhaired primitive, a forest spirit. The dark curls fluttered around his pale column of throat, his sharp cheekbones glinted when he turned around and said, "I have a whole new respect for those women at the naked car washes now."
Jim just laughed, leaned back and let Blair work in peace for a while. It was okay. He didn't have to ogle the young man. But when Blair finally finished the side and started on the front, Jim couldn't help it. He opened one eye and watched the soft swing of Blair's genitals as they briefly made an appearance when Blair turned. Oh yeah. Just as he thought. Sandburg really did have a package under there.
Blair was stretching his very appealing body over the front of the cab when Jim rose, unable to stop himself and said, "Sandburg. I'll help you reach this."
"No," said Blair proudly. "I said I would wash it naked and I will."
"Who says I want you crawling around naked all over the hood of my truck?" Jim asked, and for a while they washed the truck side by side, Jim's head full of sudden tantalizing visions of Blair spread-eagled across the cab of the truck. Fuck! Blair was starting to look like the male version of those terrible car magazine ads.
Blair tried to keep most of himself as covered as possible during this escapade, but even his chest looked wonderfully bare, inviting. Sexy.
Okay, it's official now, Jim thought. You're off the deep end.
Then, after rinsing off the rest of the vehicle, Blair scrambled up into the back of the truck on all fours.
Jim, calm down here, the sentinel quickly told himself. You're really too young to have a heart attack. Swallowing, Jim casually followed the younger man to the back of the truck, whereupon Blair immediately tried to go for a more modest pose, halfway sitting with an arm in front of his groin.
"You don't have to do the inside of the truck," Jim said. "It's really dirty, Sandburg."
Blair looked at him, grateful. He was already dirty, and quite wet. It was chilly out here. He felt like some kind of wanton brownie. But regretfully, he said, "No, I said I would do it, and I will." And he picked up the sponge and started rubbing the floor of the truck. Jim hastily beat a retreat to his lawn chair. Even he didn't think he could stand the sight of Blair on his hands and knees washing that truck bed. He might...well, he might say or do something really inappropriate. And then he thought, since when have you had such a big thing for Sandburg?
After a while, however, Jim returned to the bed of the truck. Blair tried to move, but not before Jim was presented with the incredible vision of Blair on all fours, knees spread, ass bobbing right before his eyes. Blair, blushing crimson even in the dark, quickly just sat down in all the muck.
"Sandburg," said Jim. "C'mon. The truck is clean, and there's no point in you getting that stuff all over you. C'mon," and he reached up a hand to take the bucket. Blair let him take it, and while Jim politely turned away, scrambled down from the open tailgate. The cool finish rubbed against his tender skin.
"Ow," he said, looking back at his butt, and Jim turned.
"You okay?" Blair was beautiful, he thought, sucking in his breath. And then Blair looked up, completely naked and in his view, and Jim thought okay. I'm in love.
Oh you're such a deep guy, came his inner voice as he quickly turned and headed for the hose. One look at Blair naked and you're in love. Real deep, Jimmy. But the other voice said, "Oh, go jump. You've been in love with Blair for years now. Get real." And he realized it was true. He also realized, in the same mind-numbing moment, that Blair was sure not to feel the same.
He did give you a blowjob last night.
But that was a matter of pride.
Turning, Jim took the hose, handed it to Blair, who was turned a bit away now. The wet young man washed out the inside of the bed, then handed Jim the hose. Jim took it, said, "You're dirty, Sandburg. Want me to hose you off?"
Blair looked up at him with shocked wide eyes. "It's cold," he managed.
"You're already cold," said Jim, and he put the stream of the hose onto Blair's bare feet, trying to adjust him to it.
Closing his eyes, Blair said, "Okay," and turned naked toward Jim.
Well, this is some game we're playing here, thought Jim, his body hot as he moved the water up Blair's strong, sturdy legs. Slowly, slowly, he went, the water jumping onto Blair and back off again in a flurry of spray. Then, barely hitting the groin, where Blair had his hands, Jim moved up to the shoulders. He was careful not to get it in Blair's face. Then Blair turned around, and Jim began the same journey again, toes up to thighs, lightly over Blair's rear to his back. Before Blair could move, Jim sprayed the water right down the crack of his ass and in between his legs. Blair jumped, turned around, surprised, and Jim sprayed him there on that side, too, watched Blair's hands part and let the spray of the water drench his hanging genitals. Jim's were heavy in his own pants. Aching to be set free.
Blair, looking down at the water that was bouncing off his crotch, thought, god, this is so erotic. And he found himself cupping his own genitals, holding them while Jim washed them good. Closer and closer the bigger man got, adjusting the spray, until in a moment, he was only inches away from Blair. He could see every detail of Blair's flushed groin now, the hose so close it nearly touched Blair's cock. They were caught in a spell, both unable to move until Blair looked up, his eyes dark and enormous in the moonlight, and Jim realized he was shivering.
"Chief," he said immediately. "I'm sorry. You're freezing," and Blair could only watch him as Jim quickly found a clean towel in the truck, draped it around Blair's shoulders. While Jim put the hose up, he thought, dad's gone. We should go in the house. He said, "Sandburg, get your stuff. We're going inside."
Obediently, the shivering Sandburg grabbed his clothes and bolted for the house. Jim let him in and quickly showed him to a bathroom. Blair said, "Can I take a hot shower?" and Jim, covered with guilt, said, "Yes, of course," and left him to do so.
When Blair came back out, wrapped in a thick robe Jim had found, he saw that Jim had raided the kitchen and made some soup and sandwiches.
"Thought you might be hungry," the bigger man said.
'Thanks," said Blair rather shyly. He sat there, all wrapped up, and they ate, mostly in silence. What a strange new twist our world has taken, thought Blair. Then he said, "You've got three more things, Jim."
"I think we're pretty done in tonight," said Jim, patting Blair's hand.
Blair nodded.
Blair was silent for most of the way back to the loft, and Jim kept glancing over to try to ascertain just what was the matter. Was Blair mad? Feeling abused or used? That made Jim very uneasy. Maybe this hadn't been such a good idea after all. Right before they got out of the truck, Jim said, "Look Chief. About those other three things. I have no idea what they are, but maybe we should just drop them, you know? I mean, you could have caught pneumonia out there tonight, and I really shouldn't have let it go as far as it did."
"It's okay," said Blair, but he just sat there for a moment.
"I think you're a fine person, Chief," Jim said, in what had to be the understatement of the evening. "Your language isn't that bad. Like you said, I say worse all the time."
Blair smiled. "I'm just tired," he said, "but I'm okay." He looked over at Jim and patted his arm for a moment. "You're the one that's going to want to call off those other things, trust me," and then he was sliding out of the truck and walking on in.
That night, Jim barely slept at all.
The next morning, Jim got up early and made Blair's favorite breakfast. Then he said, "Wanna take a ride up to the mountains, Chief? Might do us both good to get away."
"I really need to work, but sure, I'd love to go," said Blair, and they packed up some food and the fishing gear and took off. "Not calling Simon?" Blair asked, once they were almost out of town.
"Uh, I think he's busy," said Jim; in truth, he did not know. He loved having Simon along, usually, but this weekend he really just wanted it to be him and Blair.
The fishing was fun if not all that productive, and Jim tried to lose himself in the easy laughter between him and his buddy. But even with all the amusing asides, Jim just had this uneasy feeling that nothing was quite the way it should be.
When they got back to the loft, Blair said, "Can I grab the shower first, big guy?"
You're the big guy, thought Jim, remembering Blair's little naked escapade the night before. God, all day he had thought about that. Blair's hands holding his own crotch while Jim hosed him down with that water. Despite himself, all he could think about was what might be coming next.
After Jim took his shower, he moved, clad only in a towel, toward his room, but Blair appeared out of nowhere and said, "Hey. You wanna get that drawing thing over with?"
Jim stopped. I'm in a towel, he thought. Then he thought...I'm in a towel. Maybe there's a reason for that. His heart suddenly pounding, he said, "Sure," and had to clear his throat. Blair, who had evidently been lying in wait, held out the jar. Jim reached in, and then read the paper.
Holy shit.
Holy fucking shit.
Stunned, he looked back up at Blair, too shocked for words. "Sandburg," he finally managed.
"Which one was it?" Blair asked, and numbly, Jim showed him. Blair's face was expressionless. Then Jim thought, he could have changed these out when I wasn't looking. Why didn't he?
"Sandburg," Jim said again.
Blair said nothing, just held out his hand. "C'mon," he said, and weakly, Jim allowed himself to be led into Blair's small room. What the hell? His head was spinning; he wondered if he might zone.
"Sandburg, we really don't have-"
"I'm clean," said Blair. "Just in case that's important."
"I'd think you'd be the one worried about that," said Jim. "Chief-"
"Are you clean?"
"Yes, but-"
"Lie down on the bed," said Blair. He was as dispassionate as an android.
Heart pounding, Jim did so, lying flat on his stomach. "Blair," he said.
"Ssh," said Blair. Jim could feel him move behind him, felt Blair's hands on his calves, his thighs. Then he felt the towel being gently pushed up and away from his backside.
"Blair, you really don't have to do this," and the next thing he knew, Blair was gently nuzzling his backside.
"Relax," Blair said softly, lovingly. "Just relax, Jim, and let me do this for you." And he was kissing the dark crack between Jim's tight rear.
Jerking, Jim tried to control his breathing. My god. Blair's fingers were pulling at him now, gently opening him. Tongue fucked to climax. Jim had barely believed the words as they sprang off the page at him. He had never been tongue fucked in his life. He could feel the heat of Blair's mouth as the fingers pulled him wider apart. Trying to help, Jim spread himself open, felt Blair lying there between his legs. Blair's breath was dusting across his pulsing hole. And then Blair's tongue was licking him.
"Oh!" Jim jerked again. Felt his cock spring to full completion between his legs. Wriggled to make it more comfortable, and felt Blair's tongue start little harder licks. Teasing, spine-tingling. Oh my god. Blair was licking between his legs. Blair was.... Jim thought his head might spin off.
"How is that?" Blair whispered, and when Jim croaked out a groan, he returned to his task at hand. Jim was beautiful. Jim smelled clean, tasted smooth. Blair was starting to get excited as hell. Who was he kidding? He wanted this. He had wanted this for a long time now.
Gently, Blair started working his way inside with little wiggling motions of his tongue. When he pushed harder, Jim shuddered. Unable to help himself, he moved a hand down between himself and the bed, touched his own cock.
"Yeah," breathed Blair, electrified by that move. Jim touching himself. Jim giving himself pleasure while Blair did that to him. Shaking, Blair launched another attack. Began rimming the hole with his tongue, then pressing inside. Yeah, baby, he thought, I want in there. Then he thought of what Jim would probably be doing to him soon and pushed his tongue farther in.
Face pushed into the mattress, gasping for breath, Jim's ass muscles started clenching in and out according to the new rhythms being imposed upon his body. He was lost now, gone. Blair was impaling him with that never-ceasing tongue and he was dying, falling away from everything that he knew and once believed in. Squenching his eyes shut, Jim slid into a vat of molten light, felt the heat spread through his body, his penetrated body, his needy cock. Oh, he didn't want to stop, he wanted more, more, but the sensory overload was just too much. Gasping, he said, "Blair, I'm going to come," and was rewarded with a desperate new thrust of tongue. It was too much. He jerked, gasped, and shot into Blair's sheets with a pushing motion he was too far gone to stop.
And then there was silence. When he finally opened his eyes, he realized that Blair was still between his legs, was rubbing his ass tenderly.
"I'm afraid I made a mess here, Sandburg," Jim said, feeling properly abashed. He also felt properly romantic. All he could think of was gathering Blair up and pulling him to him to hold for a very long time. But that hadn't been offered on the little sheet of paper.
"You okay?" Blair asked, rubbing Jim one last time before seemingly regretfully letting go.
"Yeah, I...." Jim raised a dry eyebrow, tried to sit up. He reached for the towel and held it across him. Not like anybody had any secrets to hide any more.
"Was it good?" asked Blair. His blue eyes were very soft.
Jim felt a sheepish smile flit across his face. "Yeah," he said. "It was amazing," and for a moment, their eyes met.
"Good," said Blair, patting his arm. "Good." And then there seemed nothing else to say.
"Well," said Jim "I know it's late, and you're tired...." Ask me to stay, he thought suddenly, desperately. Ask me to stay, Sandburg. We shouldn't be doing this. We shouldn't be parting. We should be going to bed together. I'm in love with him, he thought, more than sure now. I am desperately head-over-heels in love with him.
"I'm okay," Blair said. He wants to go, he thought. He's embarrassed, doesn't know what to say. Probably thinks I'm after him in some huge, repressed manner. God, maybe I am. Or maybe I'm just not sure how repressed it is anymore.
"Well," said Jim, when Blair didn't say anything else. "Guess...." Their eyes met. "Good night, Chief," Jim said softly.
"Good night," said Blair. You can stay down here, he wanted to say. But he just thought he'd better not.
The next day, breakfast was interesting. Not exactly awkward, but a bit hesitant. Everyone was very nice and polite, almost overly so. It's like we're courting, Jim thought. Blair and I are courting.
That night, Jim took Blair out to dinner. Good thing, thought Blair. God knows what he will do after tonight.
Then, after they had showered, Blair said, "Ready for the jar?"
Jim hesitated, said, "Okay." His heart was absolutely pounding. What would be next? He gave Blair a reassuring smile, then reached into the bottle. Then he read what was on the paper.
"Oh, Blair," he said, "no."
Well, at least I know which one it is, thought Blair immediately. His whole body started pulsing.
"Blair. I could hurt you," said Jim, eyes wide. His senses were reeling. Blair wanted him to do that? Oh god. The problem was, he could feel his own body swell between his legs.
"You won't," said Blair.
"Have you ever done anything like that before?" Jim asked, incredulous at this turn of events. Ever though after the last few days, he didn't know that he should be.
"You won't hurt me," said Blair with all confidence.
"But I might," said Jim worriedly. He reached out and touched Blair's shoulders. Immediately Blair turned those big eyes up at him.
"I have...stuff," said Blair.
"But the kitchen table?" Jim managed. He was growing hotter by the minute.
"Yeah. Haven't you ever thought of doing it over the kitchen table?" Blair asked.
Jim swallowed, watched Blair walk over to it. He had things in his hand. Things that looked like condoms and lubricant. Oh my god. No. No, he could not do this. "Blair, no." He couldn't seem to get Sandburg out anymore. Not even Chief. Not when they were about to do something this intimate.
"You don't want to?" Was it his imagination, or did Blair seem hurt by that possibility?
"No," Jim said quickly, reaching out to reassure him. "It's not that. It's not that at all." In fact, I do want it, he thought. Desperately want it. Want you. Love you. But he just said, "Sandburg, this kind of thing is a pretty big deal. Should be a big deal."
"Oh," said Blair, taking a deep breath. "I see." He stared at somewhere just south of Jim's elbow. "I see."
"Chief, no," said Jim, again touching Blair's shoulders. "Not like that. It's not like that."
"Not like what?" Blair asked woodenly.
"It's not that I don't...find the idea appealing," Jim said quietly.
This time, Blair did look at him. Their eyes met, and Jim raised an eyebrow to try and get his point across. "It's just," the bigger man said softly, "that something that important shouldn't be done like that."
Blair nodded. He felt completely wiped out. Drained, for some reason. He had made a complete fool out of himself. He had gone so far in this little charade that he could never get back. What had he done? Had he ruined everything? "I'm sorry," he said, and he just turned around and walked away.
"No, Chief, please," said Jim, standing helplessly behind him.
Blair stopped, waited.
"It's...." Jim searched for words. "I guess I'm kind of an old-fashioned guy," he said.
Right, thought Blair. Pictures of Lila and Laura flashed through his head. Of course, maybe that was the way Jim worked. Maybe he did sleep with a woman in hopes it would turn out to be something real. Yes, he probably did.
"I know," said Blair. "I'm sorry, Jim. I didn't mean anything by it. It's just, I guess I got carried away. I'm sorry. Won't happen again. You tell me what you want me to do for you. Just pick anything, and we'll forget all this mess. If you can," he added.
"What's the other thing in the jar?" Jim asked quietly.
Blair looked up, surprised. "Uh," he said.
"May I?" Jim asked, and without waiting for Blair's permission, he reached in the jar again and took out the last remaining piece of paper. He read it, several times, and then looked up and said, "I want this, Sandburg."
Oh, god. Blair shut his eyes for a moment, opened them. Waited.
"So?" Jim asked softly.
"What was it again?" Blair asked, though he did remember, of course.
"It says," Jim read, "that I may ask you anything I want to know about you."
"Oh, yeah," said Blair. He sounded completely defeated. Oh well, what was that now, right? It wasn't like he had that many secrets left. The only thing was, one of those secrets was a doozy.
Jim thought for a moment. Just one thing? There were so many things he wanted to ask Blair now, things like why did you do this? What were you thinking when you first touched me? Were you excited? Did you like it? What would you have done if I had dropped that hose and fondled you instead?
But the only thing that came out was, "Blair, how do you feel about me?"
There was a long, frightened silence. From the across the small space which separated them, Jim could hear the skittering of Blair's heart. Seconds passed, maybe minutes and hours, who knew?
"What do you mean?" Blair finally asked in a rather small voice.
"How do you feel about me? Or, if it's easier, how do you feel about us?"
And now the silence was deafening.
"About us," Blair repeated. He stood beside the counter, picked at a nearby dishtowel with idle fingers.
Jim waited. He had just turned down making love to Sandburg across the kitchen table. He wasn't going to miss this answer, too.
"Well," said Blair. "I love you." His blue eyes swung up to regard Jim as matter-of-factly as possible. "You're my best friend. You're a lot of things rolled up into one for me, Jim. A brother. Family." He stood there a minute, obviously still thinking.
"A brother?" Jim had to ask. "So, all that...tongue-fucking and stuff, that was just all for the game?" And he stared Blair down, unblinking.
Blair flushed, picked that poor dishtowel to death. "I...it was...I just, you know, thought, dammit, Jim, and don't you make me write something else down, either, for that, I just thought it would be a way to get your goat, so to speak. And then things just went on, got out of hand. You pushed a bit, I pushed, and then all of a sudden there we were, naked, on the bed...."
"I was naked," Jim pointed out. "On the bed, at least."
"Well, I was naked in your father's yard last night!" Blair said definitely.
"Yeah, and you looked great, too," Jim said frankly.
Blair's eyes widened into blue pools of astonishment.
"What?" asked Jim. "Couldn't you tell I thought so, Sandburg? Do you really think I carry on like that with the other men I know? Let them stick their tongue up my ass?"
"You didn't want to bend me over the table," Blair couldn't help but say.
Jim huffed for a moment, then said, "And you think I didn't because I didn't want to? Sandburg, the reason I didn't was because I did want to. Because I care about you. I just don't want to bend you over a table and use you, Chief. I want to...dammit, I want it to mean something. That," he added, "is why I wanted to know just what I am to you."
"Jim," Blair said, after a second of processing, "what are you saying here, man?"
"I'm saying," Jim said, "that you better damn well tell me what I mean to you, or it's going to be Wonderburgers for the next three months. Be honest," he added, calming a bit. "It won't affect our relationship badly either way. I'm not going to hassle you, not ever going to bring it up again-"
"Jim, are you saying you're...you like me? I mean-"
The corner of Jim's mouth turned itself up. "Yes, Sandburg, I like you. I really, really like you. Do I get the award now?"
"But-"
"What will it be, Chief? Love and table-bending for the rest of our lives? Or should I just go out and find somebody else who wants to wash my car in the buff?"
"No," Blair said quickly. He made a terrible face at Jim. "You better not go out and find somebody else to do that. After what I went through for you? Jesus, that water was cold, Jim Ellison, and have you ever slid around the back of a truck on your bare ass? Because I can tell you-"
But his words were cut off because Jim was suddenly in his space, right in his space, his fingers entangled in Blair's messy hair as he looked down at the student with very soft eyes. "How about it, Sandburg?" he whispered. "Do we have a chance here? How do you feel about me?"
Blair jus tilted his head back and said, "I love you, dammit. Jim, god almighty, what did you think? That I would just do those things for anybody? I had never touched a man's private parts in my life! I-"
And once again, his words were cut off, but this time it was because Jim's mouth was on his, tenderly and thoroughly kissing his lips.
"Uhm," said Blair, immediately wrapped his arms around the back of Jim's neck. Oh god, he tasted good. Tasted as good here as he had those other places.
Jim moved his hands down to Blair's ass, pulled him against him as Blair tried for the world's record at full-body hugging. The student's full mouth was already open, wet against Jim's own, and soon the taste was full-blown, hot, sweet.
"Uhm," Blair murmured again, as Jim's tongue entered his mouth for a preliminary sweep. Then it settled in for a thorough exploration, as Blair's groin ballooned against the other man's crotch.
"You sure about this?" Jim asked, pulling away and whispering against Blair's ear.
"On one condition," Blair said, nipping at Jim's earlobe with his teeth.
Like I could deny him anything now, thought Jim dizzily. "Let me guess," he managed. "No more cursing jar."
"Oh, no, no," said Blair, brazenly pulling at the top of Jim's boxers. "No tales spread around the bullpen of me running around naked washing your car. The cursing jar stays, buddy. I think you owe me a couple now. And I'm counting on you to be real creative." He gave Jim a most lascivious look.
"I see," said Jim, almost blushing himself. "I see. So that's the way it is, huh, Chief?" and he watched rather numbly as Blair finished undressing him all the way. Jim's swollen cock was staring at them defiantly and unashamed.
"I would say kitchen table," Blair said, and it was his turn to look a little sheepish, "but I guess, the first time and all...."
"Yeah," said Jim, pulling Blair over to him by the hem of the student's gray tee-shirt. Their kisses grew hot, open-mouthed, even as Jim wrestled the shirt right over Blair's tousled head. "Upstairs, I think Sandburg. And I guess now's as good a time as any to tell you that I'd like you to make that your room, too, from now on."
"So we're official, huh?" Blair asked, surprised he felt so shy. After all, he had been running around naked like the proverbial native islander last night.
"Yep," said Jim. "We'll pick out the rings later." With a grunt, he acted like he might try to pick Blair up, but that was just a bit too much for the younger man.
"C'mon," Blair said, smiling with flushed cheeks. Then he grabbed naked Jim by the hand and pulled him up the stairs to the loft, their new bedroom. Once there, he stopped, turned to his new lover. "I have never done anything like this before," he confessed.
Jim kissed him again, tenderly and for a very long time. He relished the slick wetness of Blair's tongue in his mouth. Blair was so hot, so eager. So everything. "Love you," Jim said, kissing him harder, and then they were on the bed and things were very, very serious.
Absolutely dizzy with desire, Jim worked Blair's sweatpants off, and then laid him out to be lovingly stroked and catalogued. "God, you're beautiful," he said, as his hand ran over Blair's hard planes and soft skin.
"So you are," Blair said, his own hands never leaving Jim's face, his arms, his chest. "You look like some kind of statue."
"May I make love to you, Sandburg?" Jim asked, looking back up into his best friend's eyes. "May I touch you everywhere?"
"Please do," said Blair. "Everywhere, Jim."
So the sentinel did, taking a sensual tour of all that was Blair, starting with his feet and making his way up the hard calves, stroking, mapping. Blair spread his legs and welcomed him upward as Jim catalogued his thighs, the soft balls hanging in between. He could see Blair's abdomen rise and fall as his respiration came faster, could hear the change in his breath when Jim's strong fingers finally reached Blair's cock. But Jim didn't linger, they had time enough later for pleasure there. Instead he ran his hands over Blair's belly, memorizing each hair, each indention. Touched the hard nipples with worshipful fingers that pinched oh-so-lightly. Then he moved over right on top of Blair and wrapped his arms around him.
"You don't have to stop," Blair whispered.
"I'm not stopping," Jim said, aligning their cocks and thrusting.
"Augh!" said Blair, realizing just what was happening now. "Oh, yeah," and he answered with an urgent thrust of his own. Then the games began, the two men holding onto one another as their love and desire made itself known in the most ancient of ways. When they were finished, breathless, sticky, Blair looked up with wondering eyes and said, "That was amazing."
"You are amazing," Jim said his voice thick with emotion, and he kissed Blair very tenderly on the side of the head.
"I love you," Blair said.
"I love you, too," said Jim. "So fucking much, Sandburg," he added, eyes glinting, and Blair caught the look.
"Uh-oh," he said. "I guess I know what that means."
"Bending over the table?" Jim whispered, kissing Blair again.
"At least," said Blair, his body stirring again at the thought.
"Well, dammit," said Jim, and he laughed, deep and devilishly.
"Do they sell gallon-sized Mason jars?" Blair wondered.
Jim just smiled. "It won't matter," he said, "because bet winner or not, I plan on keeping those jars all cleaned out. In fact, it might become a nightly ritual."
"That," said Blair, "sounds like a fucking plan."
The End