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by
Blair settled himself against the back of the sofa and closed his eyes, letting the mingled scents of incense and woodsmoke permeate the air around him. He breathed in deeply, feeling some of the tension leave him as he concentrated on the warm, spicy scent of the candles on the table in front of him. Even behind his closed eyelids, he imagined he could see their soft glow, and it calmed him.
It wasn't as if he had a particular reason to be tense lately. After all, things were going well at the station, and classes were out for summer break at Ranier. He had absolutely nothing to do but concentrate on writing his dissertation and spending time with Jim.
Which was a problem all in itself, really, as Jim would tell him.
Too much free time gave him too much time to think, and thinking was definitely not something he should be allowed to do without supervision. His mind tended to come up with all sorts of weird things when left to its own devices.
For example, he'd found himself cataloguing each and every time that Jim touched him throughout the day. It was silly really, but Blair had never truly been aware of the sheer number of caresses that his roommate bestowed upon him -- and they *were* caresses, weren't they? Well, weren't they? Because Jim sure as hell didn't touch anyone else that way (and Blair had been watching).
So his roommate touched him. Caressed him. So what? What did that mean, really? It might not mean anything. Jim was a touchy-feely kind of guy. And if he didn't touch anyone else that way, well that just meant that he felt exceptionally comfortable around Blair. It was a compliment, really.
Except that it didn't make Blair feel particularly complimented when Jim touched him. It made him feel horny. And it was something that was growing increasingly difficult to ignore, especially now that he had all this free time on his hands.
Blair blew out a frustrated breath and squirmed against the back of the couch, letting his head rest on the cushion behind him. He adjusted the crotch of his jeans with one hand as the material felt suddenly too tight for comfort, and sighed in contentment once he had gotten himself situated. That was better. He concentrated on the patterns that flickered across the backs of his closed eyelids and tried to center himself, determinedly insisting that all of his inner turmoil be laid to rest.
Fuck, but this didn't seem to be working at all.
It wasn't as if he could just come out and *tell* Jim that he was in love with him. Hell, it was something that Blair had only recently discovered himself, and he was still reeling with the implications of it. He was in love with Jim. The thought scared him, thrilled him, assaulted him with fantasies that were growing more and more explicit as the days went by.
He. Loved. Jim.
There was something vaguely comforting about admitting the fact, as if it were something that his subconscious had known for years now, and his conscious mind had only now caught up on. It felt...*right* somehow. Loving Jim seemed as natural as breathing, as living, as waking up each morning and feeling the sunlight on his face. Like it was something he couldn't live without.
And that scared him a little, because Blair Sandburg had never really *needed* anyone before. And yet it still seemed right to him, it seemed good, and he realized that this time, this particular time, maybe it was okay to need, okay to want. Because he loved Jim. Because he was in love with Jim.
But that wasn't something you could just come out and *say* to a man, especially not one as strong and masculine and assumedly heterosexual as Jim was. No, this was a matter that had to be handled with the greatest of delicacy. He had to move slow, had to be smooth, had to convince Jim that one Blair Sandburg was absolutely essential to his life and his happiness and his continued mental stability before ever bringing up the subject. Then--and only then--would he make his move.
The sound of the front door opening interrupted Blair's thoughts, and he sat up quickly, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the soft light that suffused the loft. His heartbeat sped slightly as he realized that it was nearly dark already--he hadn't realized how late it was getting. Outside the window, the sun had just dipped below the horizon, and the sky was a riot of purple and mauve and gold, painted by wisps of feathery clouds. For a moment, his attention was snagged by the sheer majesty of the view, but then he was distracted by the low clink of Jim's keys landing in the basket beside the door.
"Shit, Chief, are you trying to start a fire or something?" Jim's voice was wry. He shrugged out of his jacket and turned to hang it on the hook behind the door, and Blair's eyes traced the contours of his partner's back hungrily, enjoying the sight of lean muscles sliding together under the thin material of the other man's shirt.
Blair swallowed painfully and forced his eyes away. It wouldn't do to be caught staring at his roommate in a way that could definitely be construed as lustful. Oh, no, that wouldn't do at all. *Slow, Sandburg,* he reminded himself, struggling to get himself under control. *Slow and smooth.*
"I was, uh, meditating. Trying to meditate," Blair corrected himself as his gaze swept over the candles on the low table in front of the couch. There were eight of them, big fat round candles with wax dripping down their sides and a subtle haze of faintly sweet spice rising from them. Their low, golden flames were the only illumination in the room, aside from the soft flicker in the wood stove. "They're not, uh...they're not bothering you, are they?"
"Nah, it's kind of nice actually." Jim sighed as he came into the room and settled onto the couch opposite Blair. "Look, Chief, I know it's my turn to cook tonight, but would you mind if we just sent out for Chinese or something? I'm really beat tonight."
"Ah...no. No, that'd be fine." Blair watched as Jim stretched out his legs and leaned back, closing his eyes as he rested his head against the top edge of the sofa. "How did the meeting go?"
"Oh, the usual. Everyone complaining because their departments aren't running as efficiently as they ought to be, pointing fingers at everyone from God to the field ops to the support teams to poor Rachel down in data processing. It was a regular zoo, Sandburg. Too bad you had to miss it." The corner of his mouth twitched in a barely discernible smile when he said it.
"I've been to my share of those, thankyouverymuch," Blair said, sitting back and allowing himself to enjoy the sight of Jim sitting relaxed on the couch beside him, bathed in the light of the candles. It was something that hadn't occurred to him before--that maybe Jim would appreciate coming home to a darkened loft at the end of the day, a quiet loft, without any demands being made on his senses. And it was something that *should* have occurred to him, damn it. Jim was a Sentinel, and all day long he was assaulted by fluorescent lighting and wailing sirens and obnoxious city smells, and always there were things clanging shouting pleading for his attention, and he only had so much attention to give.
"Would you like me to call out for the food?" Blair asked, his voice soft. He couldn't take his eyes away from Jim's face. The man looked younger somehow in the candlelight, the lines of his face softened, gentled, smoothed away like brushstrokes in a painting. This was a different Jim than Blair was used to seeing, a vulnerable Jim, and there was an...innocence...to him that Blair felt hard-put to explain. He realized suddenly that this was a Jim with all of his defenses lowered, all of his demons neatly caged away. It was a side of himself that Jim would never, *ever* allow himself to show in public, or even around their friends. This was a part of him that only went on display here, in their home. With Blair.
Jim stirred slightly, and his eyes slitted open. The candlelight pooled in between his eyelashes, making Blair's breath catch in his throat. God, this man was beautiful. That wasn't a term that he would normally use to describe a man, but somehow, it just fit in this instance. Because Jim *was* beautiful, the way a mountain was beautiful, the way the sunset outside their window was beautiful, and there was a...permanence...to him that gave Blair pause. As if Jim had always been a part of the landscape of Blair's world, and always would be. Always and forever, unchanging.
The scene in front of Blair took on a sense of unreality, as if it were some kind of juxtaposition between his fantasies and reality. How many times had he imagined seeing Jim like this, sitting with Jim like this, close enough to touch? Close enough to touch...but they were always touching, weren't they? Always touching, and it was such sweet torture, because it wasn't enough, wasn't near enough.
Something unreadable flickered across Jim's eyes then, and he frowned as he met Blair's gaze. "Chief?" he said, questioningly.
Blair had to swallow twice before he could get his voice to work.
"Yeah, Jim?"
"You're staring at me."
Staring at him? Oh, shit. With an effort, Blair wrenched his gaze away. "Sorry, man." He laughed shortly, blotting his dampened palms against the tops of his thighs. What the hell was the matter with him? "Uh...what did you say you wanted to eat tonight?"
"Blair." Jim's voice was serious, and he sat forward slightly, his expression concerned. His gaze was locked steadily on the younger man. "What's wrong? Your heartbeat's racing a mile a minute."
Blair flushed, knowing that Jim would be able to see that, too, even in the dim lighting. Damn his Sentinel senses, anyway.
"It's nothing, Jim, really. I'm sorry. It's just...it's just been kind of a long afternoon, and there just doesn't seem to be that much to *do* when I don't have classes to worry about, and my mind does all kinds of crazy things when I don't have anything to distract it with. That's all. It's nothing, really." He smiled weakly, hoping that Jim might actually accept the obfuscation. And it wasn't a lie, not really. Just sort of an...untruth.
Jim's frown deepened. He swept his gaze over Blair's trembling form and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. Blair could practically hear the beeping of the man's subliminal radar as it zeroed in on him, searching for further signs of distress.
"There's something wrong, isn't there?" Jim asked, sounding concerned. His eyes were intent and intensely blue as they focused on Blair's face. "Did something happen today?"
"No, no, nothing like that." Blair was starting to feel desperate. *Smooth, Sandburg, real smooth,* he chided himself. "It's just that I've had too much time to think lately, like I said. I think I'm going stir crazy, maybe. I need to get out, find something to do with myself when you're not here. I mean, not that this has *anything* to do with you, man. Really. I just..."
"Sandburg." Jim's voice was firm. The look on his face was vaguely bemused. "You're obfuscating again. This *does* have something to do with me, doesn't it?"
Blair froze, feeling his heartbeat speed inside his chest. Damn.
"Uh, no..." he tried weakly.
Jim snorted. "Would it help if I left and came back in again? Give you some time to get yourself together?"
Blair flushed at the sarcasm in the other man's voice. "No," he said, more firmly this time. "No, Jim, that won't be necessary."
He took a deep breath, let it out slowly. "Look, I'm sorry about all this. I just..."
"Had too much time to think today. I know." Jim leaned back slightly, giving Blair a speculative look. He smiled slightly. "So, what were you thinking about?"
*You shit,* Blair thought, feeling suddenly vindictive. Jim was deliberately baiting him now. And with that realization, the world seemed to snap back into focus again, because this was normal, this was safe, and Blair was used to this, could handle this, the way Jim teased him, played with him, the way he played with all of his friends. This was Jim with his defense mechanisms securely in place.
Blair let his breath out in a soft sigh, feeling relieved that the moment of crisis seemed to have passed. "I was thinking that we should plan some more tests for this summer, now that I have all this free time on my hands," he lied easily, giving the wickedest smile that he could muster under the circumstances. "You know, I'd really like to take some genetic samples, see if there's some kind of chromosomal thumbprint for your abilities that we can isolate--"
"Fuck you, Sandburg." Jim tossed the nearest throw pillow at him and stood up abruptly, his eyes glinting with tolerant amusement.
"You try sticking any needles in me and we'll see just how far you get with it."
Blair laughed, standing and dropping the pillow back onto the cushions behind him. "Your loss, man. I'm talking *scientific exploration* here. Aren't you even a little bit curious as to how you got your abilities?"
"No." Jim gave him a severe look that was only slightly marred by the subdued laughter in his eyes. "I'm not. Now let's say we call out for dinner. I'm starved."
"Sure," Blair said, happy that they had moved on to other subjects. "I'm thinking egg rolls and orange chicken. With extra noodles." And suddenly he stiffened as Jim's fingers brushed across the underside of his elbow, a fleeting gesture that seemed to burn into his skin, leaving an indelible imprint on him.
Blair froze.
*Fuck*.
It was only a touch, he told himself firmly, frantically trying to get the sudden pounding of his heart under control before Jim heard it. Just a casual touch, like a thousand other touches. Just a ... a caress. That was all. And so what if he was the only one that Jim touched this way; it didn't have to *mean* anything. Did it? Jim didn't even seem to be aware that he was doing it half the time, that it was having any kind of an effect on him at all, and surely Blair himself wouldn't even have been aware of it if he hadn't had so much damn time to *think* lately...
"Blair?" Jim said, sounding concerned again. His fingers tightened around Blair's elbow, steadying him. "Are you okay?"
Blair let out his breath in a heavy sigh. Damn it all to hell.
Taking another deep breath, he leaned in against Jim's side, tilted his chin up, and kissed him.
It wasn't any effort at all to close the distance between them. Did they always stand so close? Jim's lips were warm and soft, and they parted slightly in a startled gasp as Blair's brushed over them. Blair felt a subdued shiver as he felt the other man's breath mingle with his own. Somewhere in the back of his mind, a voice was screeching madly at him, demanding to know when, exactly, he had lost control of his faculties, but the greater part of him was caught up in the feel of Jim's lips under his. He was kissing Jim, really kissing him, and this was so very much better than any of his fantasies, he could hardly believe it was real.
And Jim wasn't pulling away from him. Now didn't *that* just beat all? In fact, he could almost believe that Jim's lips were moving slightly under his, tasting Blair in the same way that Blair was tasting him. But surely that had to be his imagination, his fevered, insane imagination, because there was no way that Jim could be kissing him back, could be...tracing Blair's lips with his tongue, as if hoping that Blair might open and grant him entrance?
Blair parted his lips on a low moan and shivered as Jim's arms moved up around him, pulling their bodies closer together as he leaned in to deepen the kiss, sliding his tongue in sensuously against Blair's. Damn, but the man could kiss. Blair wrapped his arms around the other man's waist and hung on for dear life as his mouth was plundered, and he was lost in the taste and feel and scent of the man in front of him, aroused almost beyond the point of sanity by the low sounds that Jim was making as his hands moved up over Blair's back, holding him, claiming him, and if this was a dream then Blair never, *never* wanted to wake up...
Jim pulled away after a slow eternity and nuzzled his face into the side of Blair's neck, breathing heavily. Blair held onto him tightly, irrationally afraid that if he let go, this *would* all turn out to be a dream. He cupped his hand over the back of Jim's neck and kissed him lightly on the side of the face, shaking slightly.
"Tell me this is really happening," Jim whispered, tightening his arms around him.
Blair shivered, hearing the heartfelt need that surged up just beneath the words. Could Jim possibly have been wanting this as much as he had? Had he been afraid that Blair would reject him if he ever made a move? Had all of those unconscious touches truly been as unconscious as Blair had assumed they were?
Blair laughed suddenly, a soft expulsion of air against Jim's cheek. "Yeah," he said, smoothing one hand over the other man's back. "It's real."
He felt Jim smile, his breath warm and moist against the side of Blair's neck. "Good," Jim said, and his hands had never really stopped moving at all. They were sliding over Blair's back, his sides, feeling him, mapping him, and now they hovered at the waistband of the younger man's jeans just beneath the small of his back, holding their bodies closely together.
Blair felt suddenly as if there weren't enough air in the room to breathe. "So," he said, hearing the sudden huskiness in his voice and recognizing it for what it was. "Does this mean that you..."
"Are attracted to you? Yes." Jim's tongue darted out to press against the pulse point just below Blair's jaw. His breath felt both cool and hot against the moistened skin. "For a very long time now, yes."
Blair shivered again, loving the sound of the words, wanting to bask in them, but somehow, it still wasn't enough. He pulled back slightly, without pulling out of Jim's embrace, until they could look at each other. Jim's eyes were nearly black in the candlelight, and they swirled with emotions that Blair couldn't begin to put a name to. It was a moment before he could find the breath to speak.
"You're attracted to me?" he echoed in a whisper, tracing along the side of Jim's jaw with one finger. Jim leaned into the touch with a small sigh, and his eyes darkened even further, his breath quickening.
"I love you," Jim corrected himself, and Blair relaxed into him with a quiet sigh, feeling the tension drain out of him. *That* was what was missing; that was what he had needed to hear.
"I love you, too," Blair whispered, and then Jim's fingers were sliding through his hair, tilting his head up, and then Jim was kissing him again, and *damn* it was good, it was so, so good, and Blair just wanted to drown in it, get lost in it, become completely and utterly consumed by it, because this was Jim, wonderful Jim, who loved him and wanted him, and sometimes, just maybe, dreams did come true.
"Come upstairs with me?" Jim murmured against Blair's lips, holding onto the sides of the younger man's face with both hands, and his tongue traced lightly along the line of Blair's jaw to tickle at the edge of his ear. Blair trembled, his fists tightening in the fabric of the other man's shirt, trying to ground himself against the sensations that were burning their way through him.
"God, yes," Blair sighed, feeling a surge of excitement, of happiness, of *rightness*. This was the way it was supposed to be between them--he knew that now, could admit it now. How had he ever believed that it could be different? What had he been afraid of?
Jim pulled him gently in the direction of the stairs, and Blair stumbled slightly, feeling Jim's arm move around his waist, supporting him even as they walked together, bodies molded together as they moved.
"I love you," Blair said again, feeling breathless at the words, and he slid one hand up underneath the front of Jim's shirt, needing to feel skin. Jim's stomach felt warm and hard beneath his fingers, and the soft dusting of hair there tickled his palm.
Blair could feel the small tremors in Jim's muscles as the other man's breath caught, and he inhaled deeply, breathing in the heady mixture of Jim-scent mixed with the intoxicating aroma of male arousal. It was a warm scent, equal parts spice and musk and something completely unique to Jim alone--it made Blair's mouth water, and his vision turned dark as he leaned in to taste more of Jim's kisses, wondering what, exactly, Jim would taste like elsewhere on his body.
They weren't going to make it to the stairs.
With a low groan, Blair pushed the other man back against the tall window of the balcony door and pressed forward against him, kissing him deeply, tracing the contours of Jim's mouth with his tongue. Jim moaned deep in his chest as Blair's body pressed up against him, and wasn't *that* just the most erotic sound ever? Blair pulled away slightly, gasping for air, but Jim leaned forward to lick at his teeth, silently begging him to continue the slow torment of their kisses. It was too much, it was far too much, and Blair dove back in again hungrily, sucking Jim's tongue into his mouth until their teeth clicked together and Jim was moaning steadily, his hands fluttering aimlessly over Blair's back in an unconscious plea.
Blair kissed him one more time and then sank down to his knees slowly, lifting up the front of Jim's shirt so he could reach more skin. He murmured soft reassurances under his breath as Jim trembled and whimpered in front of him, shuddering under the feel of large hands massaging eagerly into his shoulders.
"Love you," Blair whispered, trailing his mouth across the solid warmth of Jim's chest, feeling the man's nipples pebble up as his tongue passed over them. There were a million and one flavors to this man's body, and Blair was determined to catalogue them all. His hand moved to cup Jim's crotch, rubbing gently over the hard heat that was trapped there, as his teeth sank lightly into the side of the other man's ribs.
"Blaaair," Jim moaned, his hips twitching. His fingers sank like claws into Blair's shoulders. "God, Blair, please. Please." His voice was soft and breathless and completely unlike anything that Blair had ever heard come from him before.
"Shh." Blair kissed Jim's stomach softly, and began the slow process of tugging at the buttons on his fly. He smiled at the low hiss Jim made when Blair's knuckles brushed over the soft cloth of his boxers, and Blair pressed again, harder this time, massaging gently with one hand as he used the other to pull the jeans down Jim's legs.
"God, Blair, I love you." Jim had his head tipped back against the window, his throat bared and his mouth hanging open as he panted for breath. Outside the window, all was dark, and the only light in the room came from the candles, which reflected off of the dark glass in a glittering mosaic of golden light, softening Jim's features, painting him in lines of tender radiance. Kneeling there in front of him, Blair thought that he had never in his life seen a sight more beautiful.
"You look incredible," he whispered, bending to drop a light kiss to the inside of Jim's thigh. He could smell Jim's arousal, could see the dampness that outlined the tip of Jim's cock through the fabric of his boxers. Blair had to pause a moment to get his breathing under control, but then he leaned in to nuzzle the hot flesh hungrily, mouthing it moistly through the fabric, swooning on the combined pleasure of Jim's taste and Jim's scent, and the sounds Jim made as he quivered and shook above him. The fingers digging into Blair's shoulders felt like ecstasy, felt like penance, and Blair tightened his fingers around Jim's waist, supporting him as he reached for the waistband of the boxers with his other hand and pulled the elastic down over Jim's thighs.
And then he had his first true taste of Jim's essence, skin to skin, and it was pure rapture. Jim's taste exploded across Blair's tongue, and Blair moaned around the hot flesh in his mouth, feeling its silky hardness slide between his lips, nudging the back of his throat as he suckled it in. He had no desire to draw this out for either of them; Jim was too close, and this was too new for both of them to make a game out of it. Blair let his hands slide back along Jim's hips to clutch at the firm roundness of his ass, and Blair moaned again, smoothing his palm across the satiny skin.
Jim gasped and came, and Blair clung to him as the tremors passed through him, swallowing the bitter fluid that flooded his mouth with relish, determined to take it all. This taste, too, was Jim, only more so, and Blair loved it. Excitement thrummed through him, and it was more than the sex, more than the feel of another man's cock in his mouth, because this was *Jim*, Jim who loved him, Jim who wanted him, who wanted share this experience here, now, with him.
Carefully, he helped ease Jim down onto the floor beside him. After a moment, Jim moved in to kiss him again, and this time the kiss was slow, dazed and sated, and Blair shivered at the sheer eroticism of it, a host of tiny shivers taking up residence just beneath his skin.
"Let's go upstairs now," Jim whispered, and Blair bit back on the moan that the words tried to drag from him, his entire body poised to react to the slightest stimulation. He could see the understanding in Jim's eyes, the awareness of what he was feeling, as well as the desire to help ease him through it. And suddenly it truly became real to Blair that Jim wanted him, really *wanted* him, wanted to hold him and kiss him, wanted to make him come.
"Oh god," he panted, as Jim pulled him to his feet. Blair felt dizzy, and it was only Jim's arms around him that got him up the stairs. He trembled as Jim's hands moved over him, shedding his clothes with brisk efficiency, and then he was lying back onto the bed, and Jim was leaning over him.
It felt like a dream. Somehow, Jim had shed his clothes as well without Blair even noticing. The feel of Jim's warm skin against him was electrifying, and Blair arched up into it, feeling as if he were adrift in a sea of sensation, locked away in a world whose only boundaries were defined by the weight and taste and feel of the body above him.
"You okay?" Jim said, his hands moving with slow purpose over Blair's body. His breath was hot and moist as he trailed his lips over the curve of Blair's shoulder, sinking his teeth in lightly in passing.
Blair stifled a small gasp and turned his face into Jim's shoulder, pressing a kiss to the side of the older man's neck. "Yeah," he said breathlessly, closing his eyes as his erection pressed up against the prominence of Jim's hip bone. He held himself there, motionless, as Jim slid smoothly over him, back and forth in a repetitive rhythm that was carefully calculated to drive him insane. He was pleased to note the evidence of Jim's own returning erection, which was sliding against his stomach in a burn of delightful friction. "I am so beyond okay that it's not even on the map anymore, man. Just don't...stop...moving."
Jim laughed softly. "Just checking." He bent his head to kiss the side of Blair's face and then said, more seriously, "I'm in love with you, Blair. This isn't...I mean, it's not..."
"Love you," Blair whispered in reply, knowing that he was lost. "Want you, need you. Jim..." And he couldn't talk any more, couldn't find the words to say what he wanted--what he *needed*-- to say, and that was damned frustrating, because he was used to always having words for every situation. But it didn't seem to matter what he could or couldn't say, because Jim heard him anyway, heard the desperation that he couldn't give voice to, and it was okay because Jim understood. He understood.
Jim let out his breath in a ragged sigh and dragged his body heavily across Blair's, drawing a subdued hiss from both their lips. "Tell me again," he whispered, bending to suckle the lobe of Blair's ear into his mouth, threading his tongue carefully between the fragile silver hoops there.
Blair had to struggle for air to breathe; the room seemed to be spinning around him in a haze of golden-hued pleasure, and he couldn't ground himself, couldn't find himself. The only solid point of reference in his world right now was Jim, the weight of him, the solidity of him, the reality of him--that and the slow- burning ecstasy that was pooling at the base of his spine, spreading out through his body in warm pulses of pleasure that threatened to consume him entirely with every movement that Jim's body made above him.
"Love you," he said again, hoarsely, and he was rewarded by the feel of Jim's fingers wrapping securely around his own, pulling his hands up above his head to hold him down against the bed. Blair moaned, totally lost, and clung to Jim's hands with a strength that betrayed the intensity of the feelings that surged within him.
"Again," Jim murmured, his breath tickling hotly against Blair's ear. Blair writhed beneath him, arching up into the warm body that slid so tantalizingly against him. Jim Ellison was eroticism incarnate, and Blair could hardly believe that this was real. The thought that all of this beauty, all of this strength, was *his* to taste and use and love was well nigh overpowering.
"Love you," he gasped, almost sobbing. If this went on for much longer, he would go insane. Just burn up into a crispy little cinder, and Jim would be short one anthropologist in the morning.
"*Fuck*, Jim. Please. Please..."
Jim's expression changed slightly at the words, became more focused, and then there was nothing but the sound of low curses and soft endearments, accented by the animal rhythm of harsh panting and the sinuous slide of skin on skin, until even the pretense of rational thought was lost to him and Blair was completely caught up in the hard, hot core of pleasure that burned between his legs, stealing his breath and his mind away from him. Bodies thrust and merged together, and it was more than sex, more than anything that Blair had ever experienced before, because they were making love, real love, and it was hope and need and trust and desperation all rolled up into one fast, hard, wild fuck that was remaking the fabric of his world.
When he came, Jim was right there with him, and the slick warmth of their combined pleasure pooling between their bodies was the most erotic thing that Blair had ever felt. Jim gave a harsh cry and all but crushed Blair's body to him, and it was a raw, naked, vulnerable sound that Blair immediately determined he wanted to hear again sometime in the very near future. And again. And again.
********
It seemed a long time later when Blair found the strength to raise his head from where it nested against Jim's chest, and he smiled at the possessive way in which Jim's arms tightened around him, encouraging him to stay where he was. Jim's breathing was low and even and undeniably sated as it ghosted over his ear.
"This is all a little weird for me," Blair admitted in a whisper, gazing down at the candles that still burned in a flickering aurora of brilliance in the living room below them. In the quiet stillness of the loft, his voice sounded unwontedly loud. "I've never really...well, never really *loved* anyone that I slept with before. It's kind of unnerving."
He couldn't see Jim's face from this angle, but he could hear the smile in the other man's words when he replied, "No reason to be scared, Chief." His arms tightened around Blair's torso as he nuzzled into the younger man's hair, pulling him that much closer. His voice turned thoughtful as he said, "I think we've been making love together for years, and we're only now getting around to admitting it to each other. Tonight was just a...a formality of sorts."
Blair snuggled back into Jim's embrace and sighed happily, feeling a suffusive warmth move through him at the other man's words. "Well, I can use more formalities like this one, Jim."
Jim chuckled, his breath a soft brush of warmth against the side of Blair's face. "Yeah, me, too. Me, too."
They lay together in companionable silence then, and Blair let his mind wander, wondering at the oddity of the world. Sooner or later, he knew that they'd have to go downstairs and put out the candles, maybe call out for their interrupted dinner, maybe sit in front of the TV while they ate, maybe make out a little, maybe make some more love together before coming back upstairs to bed. The thought thrilled him; he could do that now--fantasize about making love with Jim, and know that it could be real.
But for now he was content to simply lie here, and feel Jim's arms around him. There was a kind of creature comfort to the hard solidity of Jim's body behind him, and Blair breathed in deeply, realizing that for perhaps the first time in his life, he was well and truly happy. He smiled to himself, lying there in the darkness, and listened to the heady, addictive sound of Jim's breathing, and knew that it was the sound of forever, and happiness, and home.
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