The characters belong to Pet Fly, et al, and I gain nothing but enjoyment from borrowing them.

A birthday gift. Thanks to the TSL'ers--this series wouldn't have been written without them.

#9 in the Sports Series. The first NC-17 offering in the series--yes, thar be sex ahead, folks.

This story is a sequel to: It's All in the Timing

Swish, swish

Two pairs of narrow skis moved in synchronized motion for five heartbeats, then the divergence started until he could hear two exact opposite distinct swishes, then they slowly converged again. Just as when they walked together, Blair had to take one and a quarter steps to each of Jim's, or in the current case of cross country skiing, one and a quarter glides to Jim's one.

A chirp caught his attention and he turned to catch a flash of gray and white among the lodgepole pines to the right of their trail.

"What do you see?" Blair asked.

"Stellar's Jay," Jim replied, turning slightly and raising his voice.

"You'd think they would've been smart and gone someplace warm for the winter."

Jim felt a twinge of disappointment. "Are you sorry you came?"

There was a moment of startled silence and Jim could sense Blair shaking his head.

"Are you crazy? It's beautiful and peaceful up here."

"And cold." Jim knew of his friend's disinclination toward any temperature below sixty degrees.

A slightly impatient chuckle met Jim's ears.

"C'mon, Jim. I was talking about the bird, not us."

Swish, swish

"Really, man. I love it up here."

Jim tension eased. For the past three weeks, ever since the dinner at Pep's place, he and Blair had found a relaxed rapport in their expanded relationship--best friends combined with a satisfying physical relationship. It would be difficult to explain to an outsider how two roommates who were friends now slept together occasionally. Half the time they retired to their own bedrooms at night, while the other half Blair would join Jim in his queen-sized bed. Jim had accused him of only wanting more room to spread out since his futon was so small. Blair had laughingly agreed, right before he sucked Jim's brains out of a lower part of his anatomy.

The mere thought of Blair in his bed made Jim's groin tighten, not exactly a comfortable position in the snug leggings he wore. Fortunately he was wearing a pair of windpants over them in case they ran into someone else on the cross country ski trail.

He and Blair had done everything but "go all the way". He supposed the more contemporary word would be fuck. Although Jim was thankful for what they had, there was an annoying little voice in his head that reminded him that wasn't the only four-letter word missing from their sex lives. The infinitely more important one was also absent.

It wasn't like Jim could test drive the word--take it out for a spin some night after they were both sticky, sweaty and sated.

"Hey, Chief, I'm in love with you."

And Blair would look at him like the word was foreign made instead of a Ford, and Jim would have to park that word back in the word lot. Even though Jim really liked that word.

Jim sighed and his breath misted in the snow-filled valley. He should be satisfied just to have his beautiful, sexy partner in bed with him three or four nights a week. That was, after all, something he'd thought impossible two months ago.

This long weekend was another surprise. The past week had been hectic for both Jim and Blair, with an overload of crimes and final exams. They'd slept together Sunday night, but not at all during the week, and the two men were snapping at one another the moment they met in the kitchen for breakfast on Friday morning. Jim and Blair had gone off to Cascade PD and Rainier, respectively, without so much as a "have a good day".

That morning Jim's caseload was drastically reduced when the Narcotics division stepped in to take his number one case, and Vice took his other hot case. That left Jim with only odds and ends to clean up. It also left him with a sick pang in his gut after the harsh words he and Blair had exchanged that morning. He must've looked pretty bad because Simon gave him the next three days off. Making an impulsive decision--something Jim rarely did--he called his favorite cross country ski lodge in the Cascade Mountains and miraculously got a cabin for Saturday and Sunday nights. Then he'd called Blair, who apologized in the same breath as Jim. The anthropologist was enthusiastic about the ski trip, especially since the semester was over and he was free for ten glorious days.

Jim and Blair had slept together last night, and had been too tired to do more than lazy hand jobs and lots of cuddling. But for Jim the simple act of sleeping entwined with his guide was more than enough. This morning they'd packed up and driven the three hours to the Methow Valley, northeast of Cascade. The day was perfect with the temperature hovering around thirty degrees, new snowfall overnight, and a cloudless blue sky. They'd checked into their cabin and changed into their ski clothing--form-fitting polypropylene tights and undershirts, fleece-lined windpants, sweaters, windbreakers, wool caps, ear warmers, socks, gloves, and sunglasses--and headed out.

The trail they took was at nearly six thousand feet, much higher than Cascade, which sat at sea level, so Jim took it easy, starting out at a slower pace than both he and Blair were accustomed to. They'd only seen two other skiers, and that had been before they'd branched off the main trail to an eight kilometer loop trail.

At the three point five kilometer point, Jim pulled off on an overlook point and tried not to watch Blair too closely as he skied up beside him. The younger man's cheeks were flushed from the cold and exercise, as well as shiny from the sunscreen they'd slathered on in the cabin. Blair leaned on his poles and gazed out across the vista spread out before them. Although he would've been content looking at Blair, Jim turned his attention to the scenery, too.

Snow covered the land and mantled many of the evergreen trees. There was a hushed silence, even to Jim's sentinel hearing. If he tried, he could hear other skiers on different trails and the infrequent rumble of a vehicle on a road some miles away. The occasional rustle of a snowshoe hare or a marten, and a bird's wings told him the land wasn't nearly as barren as it appeared.

Blair turned to him, a wide grin on his face. "Oh, man, this is so cool. I'm really glad you thought of this."

Jim smiled back, his gaze drinking in Blair's beauty. But it wasn't his mere looks which gave him that beauty--it was the heart and soul of Blair Sandburg that blazed from his eyes like some supernova. "I'm glad, too, Chief. But it's you who makes it special."

Blair's eyes widened slightly behind his sunglasses and his smile wavered, but he didn't appear to be weirded out by Jim's uncharacteristic sappy declaration. Instead, he seemed to become more thoughtful. "Ditto, Jim," he said quietly. Then he turned to their spectacular view again. "Tell me what you see."

"Snow, trees, a rock or two."

Blair elbowed him playfully. "C'mon, man, you have to give me more than that."

The enthusiasm in his voice never failed to amuse Jim. Sometimes he wished Blair could borrow his senses so he, too, could experience things the way Jim did. "I see tracks in the snow, probably a rabbit's. There're some droppings, too, which proves it was a rabbit."

Blair snickered.

"There's a couple skiers on the far ridge over there," he pointed with a ski pole in the general direction. "It looks like they're taking a break and doing some necking."

"Oh, man, wouldn't that be better in a cozy cabin?"

"I don't know, would it?" Jim stared at Blair's lips deliberately, making his intentions clear. When he moved in for the kiss, Blair met him halfway. Their cool lips met, but heated quickly beneath the passionate caress. When Blair tried to shift closer, he found his skis wouldn't move with him and lost his balance. Jim caught him as they separated.

"Way to kill the mood," Blair said wryly, one hand on Jim's arm.

"I wouldn't say that. But I will say these aren't the best clothes to be wearing when necking." He shifted, trying to gain a little more room in his leggings.

Blair laughed. "I hear you." He was less unobtrusive in adjusting himself, which only made Jim more uncomfortable.

Jim unclipped a water bottle from his belt. "Better drink some water, Chief. Between the skiing and higher elevation, our bodies will dehydrate a lot faster."

"We'll need the extra fluids for later, too," Blair said impishly.

Jim rolled his eyes but couldn't help a quiet chuckle. He, too, was looking forward to two nights in a row of sharing a bed with Blair, and planned on some slow, sweet lovemaking. He would pleasantly torture his lover until Blair begged him for release.

After drinking some water, the two men headed out again. The smooth gliding motions eased the knots in Jim's muscles created by the past week's stress. He loved being a cop and wouldn't want to do anything else, but hated the frustrations of seeing guilty perps go free or struggling to gain one vital piece of evidence before someone else was hurt or killed. He also hated the underbelly of life he saw on the streets, from thirteen-year-old prostitutes of both genders, to the strung-out addicts who'd kill for five bucks, to the human degradation going on behind respectable walls buried in the heart of the city. His city.

Sometimes it seemed as if Blair was the only thing holding him together those days when he came home from work after seeing a multiple stab victim who'd been killed by his wife; a four-year-old locked in a closet for days without food; or an old lady bludgeoned to death for her social security check. Jim could come home and close the door of the loft, locking out the dark side of humankind, and bask in the light of his guide. Blair would be making dinner, an event so ordinary it was special. Jim would grab a beer, flop on the couch and merely watch Blair move about with inborn grace. The anthropologist would talk about this student and that class and everything in between, as if knowing his voice chased away the horrific sights, smells, and sounds of Jim's day.

Only when they sat down to eat did Blair grow quiet and wait for Jim to speak. Sometimes Jim did and sometimes he didn't. But knowing Blair was there to listen was all that mattered. After they became lovers, instead of talking, Jim would occasionally hold Blair's hand, feeling the warmth of his skin, the steady flow of his blood through his veins, and the reciprocating pressure on his hand--Blair's method of letting him know he wasn't alone.

Jim inhaled the mountain air deeply and tasted snow, evergreens, and a hint of Blair. Everything that was clean and fresh and genuine. He grew warm in the sunshine despite the cool temperature and lowered the zipper on his windbreaker.

At the halfway mark on the trail, there was a rustic wooden bench that blended in with the environment. Jim removed his skis and sat down to take off his windpants. Blair sat beside him, obviously enjoying the abbreviated strip show.

"Stop that," Jim scolded.

"Stop what?" Blair asked innocently.

Jim ducked his head. "Looking at me like that."

"Like what?"

The devilish glint in Blair's eyes didn't bode well for Jim remaining comfortable in his legwear. "Like you're going to eat me through my tights," Jim muttered.

"Ooooh, now there's a good idea." Blair moved as if to kneel in front of Jim.

The sentinel grabbed his arm. "Someone will see us," he hissed.

"Hey, man, you'd be able to hear them before they got that close."

"Not if my attention was occupied." Despite himself, Jim had grown hard and the skintight leggings left little to the imagination. "But even if I could do both, I'm not going to ski in sticky underwear."

Blair laughed. "My sentinel, always the practical one."

"Someone has to be," Jim said with a teasing smile.

Blair stood up. "We'll see how practical you are tonight when I get my hands and mouth and other parts of me all over you." He maneuvered around to get back on the trail and stuck his poles in the snow and kicked off. "Last one back to the cabin is a rotten egg!"

Startled out of the hot image Blair painted, Jim quickly snapped his boot toes into the ski's bindings and pushed off after his guide. After the first kilometer, Blair slowed to a more leisurely pace and Jim followed, dividing his appreciation between the beautiful winter scene and Blair's equally beautiful ass.

They paused one more time to drink some water before they arrived back at the point on the trail where they'd joined it from their cabin. Another two hundred yards and they stopped in front of their isolated cabin. They quickly removed their skis and placed them on the porch, leaning them against the building. The poles joined the skis.

Just inside the warm cabin, Jim and Blair tugged off their skiing boots and placed them on the rug at the entrance.

"We'll have to wax the skis tomorrow before going out again," Jim said.

"Did you remember wax?"

Jim nodded, not surprised that Blair had forgotten. "Maxiglide." The lecherous glint in Blair's eyes made Jim hold up a hand. "For skis."

Blair laughed. "I knew that." He lifted off his wool hat and curly hair stuck out around his head.

Jim chuckled at his staticky hair. "Bad hair day, Bozo?"

"At least I can have a bad hair day."

"Weak, Sandburg, weak." Jim removed his small shoulder pack, then his jacket, leaving him in a thigh-length sweater and the polypropylene tights. He hung the pack and coat on the hooks by the door. When he turned back to his partner, he immediately spotted the heated glow in his eyes. He backed up, but found himself against the door.

Blair sashayed closer, clutched Jim's butt and rubbed his groin against the sentinel's. "You have the sexiest ass, Ellison." He grinned lecherously. "And your front isn't bad either."

The sentinel closed his eyes and tipped his head back, losing himself in the sensation. Blair continued his Elvis impersonation for a few more moments, then Jim felt his erection palmed by a familiar hand. He bucked into Blair's hand, the smooth tights augmenting his gut-tightening lust.

Blair leaned close. "You feel so big, Jim, so good in my hand. Do you like it? Do you like how my hand feels on your cock?" he murmured.

Jim moaned, smelling both his and his lover's arousal. He humped against Blair, feeling the delicious buzz build in his balls. He grunted, pursuing the thickening thread of lust. Then Blair's hand was gone and Jim groaned in frustration. A moment later, he felt moist heated breath through his leggings and his knees nearly buckled. Blair continued to mouth and kiss him through the thin cloth, driving Jim quickly insane.

Blair slid his hands under Jim's waistband, and shoved the stretchy leggings downward. Jim sprang free and he felt the hard length bob against his belly as cool air fanned across the dampness. Suddenly, Blair's mouth was on him and Jim shoved into the warm cavern, which welcomed him with familiar enthusiasm. Blair gripped Jim's hips and slowed the older man's thrusts as his throat grew used to the breadth and width of him, then eased his hold, giving Jim permission to use his mouth and throat for his own pleasure.

Passion seared away the last vestiges of reason and Jim shoved himself deeply into Blair's throat. The sentinel arched away from the door, his head thrown back as he screamed silently. As Blair swallowed his release, the contractions made Jim throb again and again, spurting less and less until there was nothing left. Jim slumped to the floor, boneless.

"Damn, Sandburg, you could warn a guy," Jim murmured, his body humming with contentment.

"Ah, Jim, that's no fun." Blair knelt over him, straddling Jim's bare hips, with his hands braced on the sentinel's shoulders.

Jim clasped his hips and tugged him against his chest, capturing his mouth in a gentle kiss, allowing Jim to taste himself mixed with Blair. It was a heady blend, but there was another flavor Jim loved even better. His palms spanned Blair's waist, his thumbs brushing the erection beneath the windpants and tights his partner still wore. "You're wearing way too many clothes, Chief."

"I'd say the same about you, but..." Blair's deliberate gaze dipped down to Jim's flagrant state.

Jim's face warmed with embarrassment. "What do you say we go try out the shower?"

"Together?" Blair asked, his eyes wide in mock outrage.

"You know what they say about conserving water."

"Yeah, they say it's the oldest line in the book." Blair's face lit with a grin. "But it works for me."

Half an hour later, Jim's legs trembled as he stepped out of the shower with Blair. He had thought coming twice in thirty minutes was for kids. But he'd never sucked Blair in the shower before and it was more of a turn-on than Jim could've imagined. Blair didn't think it was half bad either, Jim thought with a smug grin.

"Early dinner in town?" Jim asked as they dressed in their bedroom, which contained a queen size bed, dresser, and two wooden chairs.

"Unless you want to catch a snack now and eat dinner later," Blair replied, pulling a navy blue thermal shirt over his head.

Jim's stomach growled loudly. "Don't think so, Chief. Between the skiing and the other recreational activities, I need food."

"Let's try that place Rafe was telling us about. If we get hungry later, we can eat the munchies we brought with us. Something tells me we'll be engaging in those other recreational activities most of the night."

Amazingly enough, Jim felt a tug in his groin. He wrapped his arms around Blair's waist from behind and kissed his cheek. "You're going to be the death of me yet, Chief."

"Just as long as you don't collapse on me, man. I don't plan on dying anytime soon." He laid his hands on Jim's wrists and tilted his head back against Jim's shoulder, his expression growing serious. "And I expect you to be around for a long time, too, Ellison." Their lips met in a gentle whisper.

Jim wanted to say that as long as he knew Blair would be there with him, he planned on hanging around for a while, too. But those words were too close to asking for a commitment, and Jim had no wish to jeopardize what they had, nor ruin their weekend.

Dressed in jeans, thermal undershirts, sweaters and their ski jackets, the two men left the cabin to drive down to the little resort town twenty miles away. As Jim drove, he and Blair's clasped hands rested on his thigh. Serenity like he'd rarely experienced filled him. If he wasn't certain before, he knew now that he loved Blair Sandburg with a happily-ever-after love. As long as Blair stayed with him, Jim figured he could remain content in his unspoken love.

Half an hour later, they parked in front of a two-story weathered wood building set against a steep slope. There was a patio area in the front but the tables were empty except for snow. Pine trees surrounded the restaurant, giving the impression of solitude.

"This looks great," Blair enthused, hopping out of Sweetheart.

Jim joined him on the snowy ground and his keen sense of smell picked up grilled burgers with bacon and avocado, black beans and spicy salsa, chicken with cilantro and lime, and stir fry with peanut butter sauce.

"Hey, I thought I was the only one who could make you look like that," Blair said.

"Look like what?"

"You know, the bed-bare-skin-and-acts-illegal-in-thirty-eight-states look."

Jim barked a laugh. "I was just picking up smells from their kitchen. Rafe finally got one right."

"What? You didn't like his last recommendation?"

Jim made a face. "I think the steaks came from the original Texas longhorns at that place."

He put a hand on his partner's lower back and steered him up the stairs to the entrance. Rustic wood adorned the interior, from the beams in the ceiling to the stoutly built tables and chairs. A stone fireplace built in a wall was lit and flickered invitingly. Since they were so early, there were few people dining.

"Good afternoon. Table for two?" the blonde hostess asked.

"Yes, please. Could we get one by the fireplace?" Jim asked.

She smiled. "No problem. You've come at a good time."

Blair hustled ahead of Jim and started asking the hostess questions about the cantina and the area. Jim noticed her flush as well as her bright smile as she answered his questions. Three months ago Jim would've rolled his eyes. Now, however, Jim wanted nothing more than to yank his guide to his side and hold him close, letting everyone know Blair was already taken.

She led them to a four setting table, but cleared two of them, leaving the two across from one another. Jim mentally shrugged and sat down in the farthest place from the fire so his perpetually cold friend would get more heat.

"So, are you here on vacation?" the hostess asked Blair once she gave them each a menu.

"Just a weekend skiing getaway." Blair's gaze settled on Jim and his eyes shown with affection.

Jim's throat grew thick. Blair had basically admitted to the girl that he and Jim were "together."

She glanced at Jim and her smile fell just a little. "I hope you both have a wonderful time. It's a beautiful area."

"Yes, it is." Blair's gaze didn't leave Jim.

"Your waitress this evening is Gwen. She'll be with you in a moment."

"Thank you," Jim felt obligated to say to the hostess as she walked back to her station.

"Wow, I can see what you mean about the smells," Blair said, his attention now darting around the room like a kid in a McDonald's play area. "This is terrific." He lowered his voice, "And romantic."

Jim's heart skipped a beat. "It is, isn't it?"

"And you know what the best part is?" Blair paused. "No dead animal heads."

Jim laughed. From romance to dead animal heads. Only his partner. He perused his menu. "They have micro brews."

"Cool." Blair picked up his menu. "They have Red Hook and HPA. Which one are you going to get?"

That Blair knew his favorite micro brews was just more proof as to how close they'd become. "I think I'll go with the Hale's Pale Ale."

"Then I'll have the Red Hook."

Jim suspected they'd both be drinking from each other's, but that hardly bothered him. They practically lived in each other's pockets anyway, a fact which would've rankled Jim three years ago, but now he couldn't imagine not living so closely intertwined.

A woman with short dark hair and a friendly smile joined them. "Good afternoon. Welcome to the Duck. Would either of you like something from the bar?" Her lilting accent made both men smile.

Jim and Blair placed their beer orders with Gwen, who promised to have them out in a few minutes, which would give them time to decide what they wanted. When she returned with the drinks, they gave her their dinner orders--the halibut with pesto for Blair, and a New York steak with black beans, guacamole, and salsa for Jim. They also ordered a stuffed quesadillas appetizer.

During the meal, Jim and Blair tried each other's food, and talked about work and school, debated painting the loft, argued about who had the best Chinese food in Cascade, how the Orcas and Jaguars were doing in their respective divisions, and what trails they'd ski the next day. Relaxed camaraderie, which had become as integral to their lives as the sentinel/guide relationship over the last few years.

"Did either of you save room for dessert?" Gwen asked, gathering their empty plates.

Jim glanced at Blair, but had to quickly look away when he spotted the mischief in his expression. He could imagine what kind of "dessert" he was picturing.

"How about the bread pudding, with two spoons?" Jim asked.

"Rum sauce?"

"Definitely," Blair answered.

"What he said." Jim was unable to hide the affection in his voice. "I'll take a coffee, too. Chief?"

"Sounds good."

Gwen's gaze moved between the two of them, and Jim had the feeling she was reading the situation correctly. "One bread pudding with rum sauce and two spoons, and two coffees coming up." She smiled at each of them, and then carried their plates back to the kitchen.

The hostess glanced in their direction and followed after Gwen. Curious, Jim turned up his hearing.

"So, are they?" the blonde hostess was asking.

"Definitely," Gwen replied.

"I would've never guessed. They just don't seem, you know--"

Exasperated sigh. "Really, Liz, do you really think you can tell just by looking?"

"I've watched Will and Grace," came the indignant reply.

Gwen's laughter. "I watch CSI. Does that mean I can look at a dead body without getting ill? I don't think so." Pause. "Why are all the good ones taken?"

"By each other.

"They make an awfully cute couple though, don't they?"

"Hey, Jim, man, what're you listening to?" Blair's question intruded on his eavesdropping.

Jim reddened. "Uh, I was just listening to our waitress and the hostess talking."

"About what?"

"Um, well. Us."

Blair leaned over the table. "Oh yeah? What're they saying?"

Jim covered his smile with his hand. "They were just wondering what the good-looking guy is doing with the dork."

Blair's eyes twinkled. "That's funny. I never thought of you as a dork before."

Jim laughed. Blair always could get one over him. "They think we're a cute couple," he confessed, his cheeks burning.

Gwen returned with their dessert and coffee, and the two men found themselves unable to meet her gaze.

"Enjoy," she said and went on to another table.

Blair shifted his chair closer to Jim. "The fire's getting warm."

"I never thought I'd hear you complain about being too warm."

"Or maybe I just feel warmer sitting closer to you," Blair said, sentinel soft as he reached for a spoon.

Comfortable silence surrounded them as they savored the sinfully sweet, rich dessert in between sips of the gourmet coffee. The fireplace blazed, the flames crackling and lending an intimacy to their little corner. Once the dessert was gone, Jim leaned back and casually draped his arm over the back of Blair's chair. The younger man relaxed and slumped against Jim's side. His long hair brushed the back of Jim's hand, and the sentinel resisted the urge to capture a curl between his fingers. They sipped their coffee, merely absorbing the contentment of being together.

Gwen returned to refill their cups and take away the dessert bowl and spoons. "Will there be anything else?"

"Chief?" Jim asked.

"If I ate another bite, you'd have to roll me back to the cabin."

Jim chuckled and returned his attention to Gwen. "I think we've had more than enough."

Ten minutes later, Jim and Blair exited the restaurant, and Jim dared to put an arm around the shivering Blair, who snuggled into his side and wrapped an arm around Jim's waist. It struck Jim, then, that this was the first time they'd eaten out where it actually felt like a date. And it felt good to be able to hold Blair like they were a real couple and not care about the looks sent their way or what people said. Jim wished they could be this open about their relationship back in Cascade. But back home, they had facades to wear. Jim idly fingered his pierced earlobe. He'd considered wearing the small gold stud that remained in a dresser drawer when they'd left Cascade that morning, but decided against it. The Jim Ellison that Blair knew wasn't the same one who used to wear the earring, and he didn't want to risk finding out what his guide thought of that person.

Jim reluctantly released Blair so he could get into his side of the truck. When Jim got behind the wheel, he found Blair sitting in the middle. And while Jim drove away from the restaurant in the evening's duskiness, Blair's fingers walked up his thigh and uncomfortably close to his zipper.

"Uh, I'm trying to drive here, Chief," Jim murmured.

"Yep." One finger feathered across Jim's fast growing erection.

Jim captured the distracting hand and lifted it to his lips, kissing the back of it gently. "I really like what you're doing, Chief, but I don't want us to roll down a mountainside either."

Blair made a little noise of impatience, which Jim could easily relate to. With one hand holding Blair's, Jim drove back to their cabin. By the time they arrived, night had fallen and the sexual tension in the truck cab was thicker than Blair's breakfast shakes. As soon as he shut off the truck, Blair's other hand strayed to Jim's thigh and glided up to his crotch. Jim throbbed beneath the delightful pressure.

Jim drew Blair closer. For a long time, the two men necked like a couple high school kids, eagerly kissing, licking, and nibbling at whatever available skin they could find. When they finally drew apart panting, Jim rested his forehead against Blair's. "You know, we have a warm cabin with a nice big bed fifty feet away."

"And no mother or father to walk in on us," Blair added, his tone breathy.

"That, too."

Blair scooted out of the truck and into the cabin. Jim didn't hesitate but followed as quickly as his old bones could manage, which was gratifyingly fast. Blair's jacket was thrown haphazardly across a chair, and his boots had been tossed helter skelter onto the rug. Jim locked the cabin door, and stripped his outerwear, managing to be only a tad neater in his haste. A trail of discarded clothing led to their bedroom. Jim followed, losing his sweater and undershirt in the process. He was unzipping his jeans when he arrived in the bedroom door and froze.

The blankets had been pulled back and a naked, very excited, Blair lay in the center of the bed. That would've been enough to stop Jim in his tracks, but it was what sat on the pillow beside Blair's head that nearly toppled him. Condoms and lube. A big tube of lube. For extra sensitive skin. And ribbed condoms for added pleasure.

All the blood in Jim's body pooled in his groin.

"Blair?" he managed to squeak out.

"Jim?" Blair replied, his blue eyes alive with passion and lust, and a hint of impishness.

"Uh, what's going on?" It wasn't the brightest question he'd ever come up with, but Jim had no idea what else to say.

Blair raised up on his elbows and arched an eyebrow. "I thought it would be pretty obvious, Ellison." His hot gaze traveled down Jim's body, and settled in the V of his unzipped jeans. "One part of you seems to know what's going on."

Jim's erection twitched. Oh, yeah, it definitely knew what was required of it and was more than up for the task. "I thought we were going to wait."

"We did." Blair paused, then added tenderly, "It feels right."

Jim couldn't argue and mentally shook himself free of his shock. With fumbling fingers, he rid himself of the jeans and boxer briefs, leaving him in nothing but his socks. He tugged those off, and nearly fell over in his haste.

Blair chuckled. "It's okay, Jim. We've got all night, plus another whole day and night."

"That's not helping, Sandburg," Jim growled.

Full laughter rang from his guide, caressing Jim from the inside. "Why don't you get over here, Ellison, and we can help each other?"

Jim scrambled onto the bed beside Blair and rolled onto his side. For a long moment, they merely stared at one another, as if recognizing that their relationship was evolving once more. Penetration was something Jim had only done twice before, and he'd never been on the receiving end. It seemed too intimate, something Jim had never been able to trust any of his past sexual partners to do. But, Blair...

"I want you inside me," Jim said quietly, but firmly.

Blair's long eyelashes swept downward, brushed his desire-flushed cheeks. "I thought you would--"

"I've never had anyone do me before. I never wanted to. Until you." Jim traced Blair's cheekbone with a light fingertip. "Have you done it before?"

Blair nodded, his eyes wide. "Both top and bottom. But only a few times." His gaze searched Jim's face. "Are you sure?"

Jim kissed him, barely touching his lips. "Yes. Very."

Jim could hear his lover's heartbeat thunder in his chest, but the fevered look in his dark eyes told Jim that Blair wanted this, too. Maybe just as badly as Jim.

Blair took his time, teasing his sentinel until Jim was thrashing and moaning, his silky length hard and eager. Blair dipped down, licked his bellybutton, then created a moist trail lower, until he took Jim into his mouth. As Jim thrust inside the dampness, Blair's fingers dipped into his cleft and opened him slowly, carefully. Jim alternated between pushing against the fingers in him, and shoving forward into Blair's throat. When his orgasm struck, he screamed Blair's name and clung to him lest he spiral off into sentinel never-never land.

Jim was barely aware of Blair rolling a condom down his length and easing Jim onto his stomach, placing a pillow beneath his hips. But when his guide's blunt head touched him, Jim's awareness returned tenfold. He forced himself to relax so Blair could ease past the guardian muscle and inch his way inside. Blair continuously petted his back and hips, kissing the sensitive skin on his shoulders and between his shoulder blades.

Once Blair was fully inside him, Jim opened his sense of touch, feeling the hot stir of blood in Blair's erection and the slippery lube over latex, tickling his inner walls. His own desire grew and he began to rub ever so minutely across the smooth sheets beneath him.

"Are you all right, Jim?" Blair asked, his mouth close to Jim's ear.

Jim shivered, which made Blair shudder in response. "Go ahead. I want it, Blair. I want you."

Blair began rocking gently at first, but Jim was more than ready for his lover. He shoved back hard and pulled away, meeting and withdrawing in the ancient dance of desire. And when Blair grasped Jim's hardness, the sentinel exploded a second time, triggering Blair's powerful climax, which throbbed deep within him.

Blair sagged across Jim's back, his breathing hot and wet against Jim's sweat-coated skin. "Oh, God, Jim, that was incredible," Blair managed to gasp out.

"Yeah, it was," Jim replied, his body tingling in the afterglow.

He felt Blair shrink within him and when the younger man eased himself out, the emptiness was a physical ache. Blair removed his condom and snuggled up beside Jim.

"Wanna have you do me next time, all right?" Blair slurred as he slid into slumber.

Jim kissed his sweaty forehead, savoring his guide's salty-sweet taste across his lips. "Anything you want, Blair," he whispered in reply.

Blair started snoring softly and Jim pulled the blankets over their cooling bodies. As he held Blair close, Jim mouthed the words he'd barely been able to suppress during their lovemaking. "I love you."

And even if Blair could never return those words, this night would be forever etched in Jim's memories.

End Gliding Closer to Home by Romslinger: romslinger@yahoo.com

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