Disclaimers: I don’t own them, Petfly & Co. do. This story contains graphic homosexual situations, including rimming, so if that squicks you, stop here. This story was one of eight drabble challenges put to me; Admiral Andrea asked for Jim/Blair and cheese.
Jim could think of better ways to spend his anniversary than listening to Blair vent his frustration about Cascade's ridiculous shortage of ladyfingers, which ranked right up there with crumpets on Jim's list of foods not worth obsessing about. "So use something else, Chief."
"I can't," Blair grumbled, dialing another supermarket.
"Then we'll make something else. It's not the end of the world."
"Jim, mascarpone cheese is expensive, and there's nothing else you can do with it. I just wanted to do something special for our anniversary and now -- Hello? Yes, I wanted to know if you guys had any ladyfingers in stock. Lay-dee fin-gers. They're--"
Jim had had enough of this. He scanned the recipe and surveyed the ingredients, then reached to hang up the phone. "Sandburg," he said, using his hands as wedges to scoop off all of Blair's shirts in one go, "Not that I don't appreciate your trying to make our anniversary memorable, but I think you're missing the point."
"It's gonna go to waste," Blair said half-heartedly, but he was already absentmindedly kicking off his shoes and unbuttoning Jim's shirt.
"It's not going to go to waste," said Jim, divesting Blair of his jeans and boxers and lifting him onto the table, arranging him with his butt right up against the edge and his knees up, laying him open. "I need you here. That's what I want for our anniversary." He picked up the bowl of mascarpone mixture and the shaker of cinnamon and laid them on either side of Blair, then took a spoonful of the sweet, fluffy mixture and slathered it on his lover's balls, grinning at Blair's yelp. He topped the cream with a dash of cinnamon and leaned in to lick and suck at the tender skin of Blair's inner thighs, slowly getting closer to the cream-covered orbs. The cheese was cool against Blair's heated skin, a little thicker than whipped cream and delicious on his lover's flesh.
"Jim..." Blair's breathing developed a hitch, and Jim alternated between long, thorough licks and gentle nibbles, wringing a moan from his lover. He definitely had Blair's full attention now, but he wanted to make this anniversary a real banner day for Blair, and he decided he'd never have a better chance than this to try something he'd been debating for ages.
He took another generous spoonful and grinned ferally at Blair. "Too sweet; something's missing. Didn't the recipe call for espresso?" That spoonful went right between Blair's cheeks, and Jim's mouth followed.
Blair had cleaned himself earlier, thank goodness, in anticipation of a long, sweet anniversary fuck, but there was still some residual bitterness, and Jim was grateful for the sweet topping to get him past his natural reluctance. Blair's gasps were growing steadily louder, and Jim pressed his tongue deep inside Blair's ass, forcing it open. Blair's heels dug into Jim's shoulder blades and his cock was bouncing desperately against Jim's forehead, but Jim just wedged his face deeper between Blair's thighs, fucking Blair with his tongue.
"Jim, Jim, gonna -- Fuck! -- gonna come, Jim, please!"
Jim registered the galloping heartrate and took pity on his mate, lifting his head to slurp Blair's cock instead, driving a finger into the slick, sensitized hole he'd just abandoned and stroking Blair's prostate, hard. With a scream, Bair arched off the table, washing away the last traces of sweetness with the delicious and familiar salt of his come.
Blair whimpered and went utterly limp. Jim swiped at his face in a vain effort to do something about the sticky cream and semen all over his cheeks and chin. He walked over to the front of the table and leaned down to kiss Blair senseless, feeling justifiably smug.
"You win, man, I surrender. Best anniversary, ever," Blair moaned happily.
Jim tugged Blair up off the table and into his arms, burrowing his face into the crook of Blair's neck, relishing his sleepy, sated weight and the scent of home. "And many more, Chief."
End.