Author: Daydreamer
Date: 29 October 2005

Touch

It started with a touch against Blair's bare skin as he trotted from the bathroom to his room beneath the stairs, clad in only a towel.

It felt electric.

He whirled and faced Jim. "Why do you do that?"

Wide blue eyes, slightly confused, stared at him. Jim was shirtless and barefoot, dressed only in well-washed jeans. "Do what?"

"Touch me."

Jim frowned, then stepped into the kitchen. "I touch you all the time," he said.

"I know." Blair paced to the window, shoulders taut, towel clutched around his waist, and looked out.

"And you touch me." Jim waited, implacable, arms folded across his chest, leaning with deceptive calm against the refrigerator.

"I know." Blair turned and paced back until he could look up into the taller man's eyes.

Silence filled the loft, stretching from comfortable, to anticipatory, to awkward.

"I need to touch you," Jim finally grated out. He cast a quick, meaningful glance at his guide's groin. "I can't explain it."

"Touch me how?" Blair asked, his head cocked.

Jim flushed and looked away, not speaking.

"Jim?"

The older man reluctantly turned back to look at him.

Blair lightly slid his hand over his towel-covered cock. "Like this?"

Jim's jaw tightened and he nodded, one short, quick jerk of his head, before he looked away again.

Blair looked into Jim's blue eyes seeking answers for his confused feelings. Jim's gaze was intent, his lids hooded, his mouth rigid, tense with desire.

He moved forward, stepping into Jim's arms and released an almost silent sigh. Jim clutched him tight against his chest and suddenly, he was aware again of his half-naked state and of the hard male body he was pressed against. Jim put a hand on his ass and shifted him so that their cocks pressed against each other.

He gasped. He'd forgotten there was such pleasure in feeling another man's hard body pressed against his.

"Blair," Jim murmured, "that feels so good."

Blair clutched at Jim's shoulders, afraid to move lest he succumb to the pleasure or have to give it up. He closed his eyes and laid his head against the older man's chest. Jim felt strong, and he felt secure in his sentinel's arms, as though he could have no more worries if they faced the world together.

Jim was offering himself, and for a man like Jim that was a forever commitment. And Blair wasn't sure he was a forever kind of guy. He was more -- for a while. For the moment. Yet Blair realized suddenly that he was seriously considering the offer. He didn't want to fall in love -- that way lay disaster. If he left -- when he left -- Blair would break Jim's heart. But he couldn't deny that when he was with Jim, with his sentinel, he felt safe and, curiously, loved. It was a feeling he'd never had before.

He'd always lived for the moment and now he was considering denying himself the moment because he wasn't sure he could give more than that. And yet Jim hadn't asked him for anything more than now -- nothing more than the chance to touch his guide. Knowing his decision had been made, Blair pulled back and looked up into Jim's eyes, then leaned forward again.

Jim held him for a long moment, then murmured, "Are you sure?" in a husky voice Blair had never heard before.

He nodded, then moved obediently as Jim turned him and led him up the stairs.

He stiffened for a moment when Jim nudged him down to the bed, the sentinel seating himself beside him, then relaxed and tentatively nuzzled his face against Jim's throat. Jim felt his acquiescence and tightened his grip on Blair's shoulders, then lazily used his nose to move Blair's curls and work his way to the sensitive spot behind his ear, beneath his hair. Blair's body melted, flowed like honey, hot and smooth. His blood began to thrum.

Blair suddenly felt himself being gently pushed down onto his back. Jim lay on top of him, his hips pressed tightly into the cradle of Blair's thighs, denim on terrycloth, and there was no mistaking his intention. Jim levered himself onto his palms and Blair felt himself quivering as the sentinel took a long, lingering look at the chest exposed beneath him.

"You're beautiful," Jim rasped.

The older man lowered his mouth so slowly that Blair felt the curl of desire in his belly long before the mouth reached the tip of his nipple. Blair had anticipated Jim's touch, but the reality was stunning. The warmth. The heat. The wetness of his tongue. The sharp pain as teeth grazed the puckered flesh, and then the strong sucking as Jim took the dusky brown nipple into his mouth. It was almost more pleasure than he could bear.

Blair was frantic to touch Jim's flesh, and his fingernails dug deeply into Jim's back as the older man's mouth captured his and that tongue, the same tongue that couldn't seem to speak to explain, but was suddenly clever and agile and quite the explorer, ravaged him.

Blair shuddered as Jim's hand caressed his chest. He tugged at the gold ring, and then kneaded the nipple between his callused finger and thumb, causing a feeling that was exquisite. There were too many sensations to cope with them all. The roughness of Jim's hands, the wetness of his mouth, the heaviness of his lower body on his own. He was lost in sensation.

With a woman, Blair would have rushed forward toward fulfillment. But when he reached for the metal buttons of Jim's fly, the other man's hand was there to stop him. It seemed that his sentinel had not nearly had his fill of touching and tasting. Jim held his hand tight against the bulge in his jeans for a moment, and then laid his palm against Blair's cheek.

"Touch me, Chief. I need you to touch me."

And so he did.

His fingertips roamed Jim's face as though he were a blind man trying to map the world. He found a tiny scar in Jim's hairline and gently touched the spider web of lines beside his eyes. He teased the thickness of Jim's brows and grazed petal softness of the sentinel's eyelids and feathery lashes. He searched out the hollow beneath his cheekbone and the strength of his jaw. The long, straight nose and beneath it the twin lines that led to his lips, soft and damp and full.

Jim nipped his fingertips and made him smile until the pad between his fingers and thumb was carefully caught between sharp teeth. The love bite chased waves of feeling down his spine.

Jim used lips and teeth and tongue to trace the shell shape of Blair's ear and was rewarded with a very masculine groan that fought its way up through clenched teeth. The sentinel was lost in an adventure of discovery, lost in the sensation of unlimited access to his guide.

Jim nibbled at his neck and laved the love bites with his tongue. Blair felt his whole body clench in response. His hands entwined with Jim's, and the older man lifted them, then held them down on either side of his head so that he couldn't interfere with his sensual exploration. Jim's's lips traced the length of his collarbone and slipped down to the tender skin beneath his arm. He bit and suckled until Blair was bucking beneath him.

"Jim, please," he heard himself beg. He couldn't have said himself whether he wanted the sentinel to stop or go on.

Jim certainly had no intention of stopping. He was fascinated by the man under him. By his scents and textures and tastes. Blair smelled of clean shower soap, but his taste was distinct, a taste that was meant for him and him alone. His skin was like satin, or maybe silk, smooth and alluring. He couldn't touch him enough, couldn't taste him enough.

Jim's mouth found Blair's again, and he brought their bodies into alignment, feeling the moist heat of Blair's groin through the denim and terrycloth that still separated them. He wanted him. He wanted him now! God, how he wanted him!

He released the smaller man's hands to reach down toward his Levi's, but Blair's hands were there before him.

"Let me."

Jim's eyes were lambent, heavy-lidded, the blue almost violet with desire.

Blair's loins tightened.

Jim couldn't speak, so he nodded curtly.

Blair took his own sweet time with it. A button at a time Jim felt himself coming free until Blair was holding him, surrounding him with his hand.

Blair had never wanted anyone so much, never needed anyone like this. Never felt so much with any partner, male or female. What made Jim so different from everyone else? Why couldn’t it be easy? A quick, simple fuck? Two buddies helping each other out? Why did have to feel so good it almost hurt? Why did it have to be so scary? Why did he have to love --

Blair stopped his thoughts in midstream, appalled by the word that had come to mind.

Love.

Was that why it was so intense with Jim? Was he falling in love with Jim Ellison? Was he in love with his sentinel?

It was unfair to be forced to evaluate his feelings when he was staring at the object of his desire. Because he loved the way Jim's dark lashes feathered onto his high cheekbones. He loved his mouth, with the narrow upper lip and the full lower one, the mouth that had already brought him so much pleasure. He even loved the way Jim kept his hair so short and the soft, baby-down feel of it.

He loved the weight of Jim's large, solid body on his own as they caressed each other. He loved the feel of his skin, soft to the touch, yet hard with corded muscle. He loved the way Jim's touch heated his flesh, the feel of those callused fingertips twining through the soft mat of fur on his chest.

Jim hissed out a breath, interrupting his thoughts. "Damn! Do something! You're going to kill me."

Blair grinned. "At least you'll die smiling, Big Guy."

Jim's rare crooked grin flashed and was gone an instant later as he stripped Blair of his towel, rolled his guide beneath him, and spread his legs.

One finger.

Stretching.

Touching.

Caressing.

Two fingers.

More stretching.

Soft kisses.

Soothing.

It had been so long.

Three fingers.

Panting.

Struggling for patience.

Stretching.

Opening.

Testing.

Until ...

Finally ...

It was time.

Ignoring the quizzical look on Blair's face, Jim urged the other man to roll again. To lift his legs. To spread them. And then, without a word, his gaze chasing, catching, holding Blair's, the Sentinel slipped inside his Guide.

Hot.

Wet.

Tight.

The feelings were astounding, and Jim groaned as he seated himself deep within Blair's body.

For a moment, he didn’t move, apparently just enjoying the feeling of being inside Blair, of having joined the two of them as one.

Right.

It felt right.

And good.

And Blair knew.

He loved the big guy.

Blair Sandburg, professional wanderer, drifter extraordinaire, man who had been and lived a thousand places yet called no place home, that Blair Sandburg had fallen in love and suddenly, found himself home.

"Sandburg -- Blair, dammit, I -- " Jim wanted to wait even longer, arouse the other man even more, until he couldn't talk or even breathe. Yet it was apparent that Blair was as aroused as Jim. Blair's hands shoved Jim's jeans down and then grasped at the larger man's buttocks as he brought his own legs up around him. Jim took his weight on his hands, leaving him free to caress Blair's lips and neck and chest with his mouth.

Jim felt a frenzy of uncontrollable need for this man, at this moment in time. "Blair," he panted. "I can't ..."

He needn't have worried that he was leaving his guide behind. He felt the convulsions deep inside the other man, felt the warm wetness splatter his belly, and knew that they had reached the same pinnacle. Jim threw his head back, teeth clenched against the agony of pleasure that swelled through him as he spilled his seed. He was unaware of the exultant cry that escaped him at the ultimate moment.

"Mine!"

Blair felt moisture steal into the corners of his eyes as Jim slipped to his side and pulled him into his arms. He held onto his sentinel tightly, afraid to admit the magnitude of what had just happened between them. It wasn't what he had expected. The pleasure, yes. How could a sentinel do anything but bring his partner pleasure? But the feeling of belonging ... That, he couldn't explain and didn't wasn't ready to contemplate.

He had loved the feel of their two bodies joined together as they were meant to be. He refused to contemplate all the other things he loved about Jim Ellison. They were too many and too varied. It was painful enough to know that he loved the man this way. Because where there was love, there was hope. And where there was hope, there was a future. And he'd never been very good with love, or hope, or futures.

"Blair? Did I hurt you?"

He felt Jim's lips at the corners of his eyes, kissing away the wetness. "No," he said. "You didn't hurt me."

"Then, why --?"

"I don't know," he admitted in a choked voice. Another tear betrayed him.

Jim tightened his embrace. In a low voice, that husky, rusty-gate voice, he said, "It felt right, Blair. It felt good. Don't be sorry."

"I'm not," he said. And he realized he wasn't. He didn't fool himself. What he and Jim had just experienced was rare. It hadn't ever happened to him in all his time with others. That must mean that he felt more for this man than he had even previously perceived. He wasn't ready yet to examine those feelings. He wasn't sure what he would find. He certainly wasn't ready to confront them head-on.

For now it was enough to hold and be held.

But who could know? Maybe someday ....