Author's webpage: http://www.geocities.com/randomxtangent

Author's disclaimer: They're not mine and never will be, no matter how many falling stars I wish upon.

Author's notes: So there's a little B/m in this one. Don't worry about it. It's over almost before it happens. ;-) Also, I did set myself up a website on Geocities for now. There's a couple previously unposted fics up there and soon there's gonna be some recs, when I have more free time. Go forth and check it out, tell me what you think of it and this story, and anything else you might read. (Desperate for feedback? Me? Maybe just because no one seemed to like my Many Faces of Blair story. Kidding! I know you loved it, anyway, Patt. :-p)

If there was one thing that Blair loved more in the world than waking up midmorning on a lazy Sunday, it was waking up next to a warm body midmorning on a lazy Sunday. Preferably with the scents of sweat, cum and satisfaction still lingering here and there and muscles aching from several bouts of enthusiastic, athletic sex. So when he did wake up like that, he nearly laughed with joy, and basked in the afterglow.

No better thing in the world, he thought a little smugly before stretching out so that he could rub his hands over that warm body. His reaching hand encountered flesh that was decidedly not female, and for a moment he had the urge to get up and dance around the room. Finally, finally, after months of looking at Blair with hot eyes when they were at TA meetings, after Blair's constant encouraging smiles and come on baby, just ask me out already glances! Jake had gathered up the courage to--

Or maybe not.

Last night when they were out celebrating the end of the term with copious amounts of alcohol, one of the other grad students had told Blair that Jake was maybe a little afraid of 'the bodyguard', Blair remembered that much. And he also seemed to remember having finally made a move on Jake himself, now that he was thinking about it. Convincing the other man that he was interested. That he liked his guys big, buff and smart. He was the one who'd grown some balls and taken the initiative.

And thinking about it, he let his hands trail down a firm back, eyes still closed, still kind of floating in a dreamy little river of memories. This guy was certainly no slouch as far as big and buff went and if he wasn't as smart as maybe a grad student should be, he had a gorgeous laugh to make up for it. Most importantly, his eyes were blue, very pale, the color water becomes when it covers white sand and coral reefs. A warm color, but maybe a little shallow.

No matter. Blair was glad--pretty damned glad--that he'd made the move. He'd given up on being the aggressor a while ago, after getting a particularly brutal blow to the gut by a guy who'd been giving off vibes all night but decided at the last moment that he wasn't a fag, and he wasn't about to give in and let a fag kiss him goodnight.

That blow still stung.

But Jake had been more than receptive, he reminded himself. And that jerk who'd hit him...well, that had surely had a negative effect on the man's karma.

He sidled a little closer to the body on the bed, finally opening his eyes as he wrapped his arms around Jake, reaching for the other man's dick with hands that didn't quite remember how it had felt the night before. It was a little smaller than he'd imagined it would be--all right, a lot smaller--but he seemed to remember that Jake had made up for that in spades with technique--

And then Blair realized where they were. The loft, his room, his bed. All the fun and interesting things that he was just remembering doing had been done *right under Jim's nose*.

He was in big trouble. Big, big trouble. At least six feet and two hundred muscular pounds of trouble. The things Jim was going to do to him would make that punch to the gut seem like a little butterfly had batted him with its wings.

"Shit," he whispered. "Shit shit shit, shit shit shit." In a split second he had his hands off Jake's rapidly stiffening dick and was kneeling on the bed, shaking the sleeping man's shoulder to wake him up.

Jake's eyes opened slowly and he yawned like a hippo, great waves of horrid beer and nacho breath washing over Blair as he drifted up from sleep. "Shhh, shh, don't talk," Blair said quietly when those big blue eyes that had enthralled him for weeks finally focused. "My roommate, I forgot--he uh, has this policy against sleepovers, man, and he is going to be totally and completely pissed if he wakes up and you're still here. You gotta get dressed."

"Oh, yeah?" Jake said around another yawn. Blair wondered how one man's mouth could open so wide, but that led his mind right down into the gutter with his dick, and he pinched his own arm to drag himself out of it. "I forget. How big is he?"

Blair had to laugh at that, but he kept it muffled. "Bigger than you, buddy. And a cop. Who was in the army."

Jake's eyes widened comically. "Oh my God," he breathed quietly. "Blair Sandburg, slut around campus, is really living with a cop? Everyone kept saying he wasn't your lover, and I guess not--" Those wide eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Wait. He is, isn't he?" he demanded, then looked around the room. Finally, with a snort, he rolled out of the bed and started getting dressed.

"Jim's not my lover, man," Blair tried to explain insistently without raising his voice, even though he knew that with the Sentinel in the building, no words were too quiet but the ones that were never spoken. "And I'm really not as...active...as the rumor mill would have you believe!"

"Right. That's why this room looks more like a storage closet than a bedroom. That's why you woke up in a panic." Jake was quickly covering his smooth skin with clothing, and Blair was distracted for a moment by the sight of long, nimble fingers doing up a button fly, then he shook his head.

"No, really." He pulled the sheet off the bed, winced a little as it scraped raw places and settled moistly against his hip. He stood and wrapped an end in, then gripped Jake's biceps tight, looked up into his angry face, and accepted the inevitable.

The bed seemed a little harder than it had been a moment ago when he slumped back onto it and rested his elbows on his knees, linking his hands and studying the way the skin pulled tight over his knuckles. "Jim isn't my lover," he said again. "I know I have a reputation but I never, ever sleep with someone if I'm seeing someone else. I promise you that."

He held his breath as Jake hesitated, but let it out in a slow and uneasy sigh when his apparently temporary lover shrugged into his jacket and grabbed his keys--which, miracle of miracles, had been lying in plain sight.

"You do have a rep," Jake agreed, and now he sounded sullen. A little sulky. Blair blinked in surprise and looked back up--angry, hurt, he could understand. But sulky?

"There's a pool in the department about how many people you've slept with in the last three years," Jake said, and suddenly he looked so ugly to Blair that his stomach protested and he had to leap to his feet.

"A pool?" he hissed. "How much did you bet?"

Here, Jake looked smug. "Fifty dollars. If I get you to admit in public that you've slept with twenty-five people."

Blair's jaw dropped. "You're way out of luck then, man," he said, furious now and not even trying to keep his voice down. "The real grand total is nowhere near twenty-five."

Jake looked a little curious now, less sulky. "Oh yeah? More?"

Blair groaned and flopped backwards on the bed. He'd been flying with this man, but some part of him, some smart part, had held back, afraid of falling for him. And now he knew why. "Get out," he said quietly. "Just...get out."

Jake went without another word.

The shower felt so good, so warm and comforting. Still, Blair debated punching the wall while he was in there and decided against it. He was surprised by how much it hurt, really hurt, that people thought him so promiscuous.

There was no denying that he had dated a lot of women in the past few years, and he'd dated even more women when he was younger. But the actual sex part hadn't happened nearly as often as he'd have liked it to.

As for men...most of the men he'd dated had been kept discreetly in the 'public buddy' category--really, he could count on one hand how many times he'd had sex with a man in the past few years, and three of those times had been with the bastard who just left.

He'd learned to be cautious, but apparently he still wasn't cautious enough.

It had helped that he couldn't bring women back to the loft and had to keep the men a secret from Jim. More often than not he'd had to go celibate because Jim hated the scent of this perfume or that soap, or because he knew Jim would smell a man's body on his the minute he got near the loft and would probably kick his ass right out.

"What am I going to do?" he asked his reflection as he shaved, taking his time because his hands were shaking a little. "Why the hell did I come here with that big weasel?"

Then Jim was pounding on the bathroom door and Blair nearly sliced his throat with the razor--and then decided that maybe that was the best thing to do. Before he could go for another try, Jim was stepping into the bathroom and pushing him out of the way, making for the toilet like his bladder was going to explode.

Once or twice before they'd been in the bathroom at the same time, while one was showering or shaving and the need to pee had overwhelmed the other. It was like being in a men's room, nothing strange or unusual as long as neither of them thought it was unusual.

This morning, Blair thought it was not only unusual but damn uncomfortable, considering what Jim had probably heard and smelled the night before, and he bolted out of the bathroom to finish shaving at the kitchen sink.

He wouldn't have finished shaving at all if a half-stubbly, half-smooth face wouldn't have distracted and annoyed Jim--

And that suddenly seemed like a good idea too, distract Jim, keep him annoyed by the small stuff so that Blair wouldn't be out in a motel room tonight with a few priceless artifacts and a million cheap toys. So he left a little stubble and shaving cream in the bottom of the sink and put a glass of water down on an end table without a coaster, and didn't shake the crumbs out of the toaster after putting in a few slices of seven-grain bread. He added a little too much pepper to the eggs--that was actually an accident; his hands were still shaking--and then for a final touch, poured a little tabasco sauce into the coffee grounds.

When breakfast was all set out on the table and he could hear Jim-getting-dressed sounds, he bolted for his room and started piling on layers. It was mid-May but he was cold, colder than ice, cold like he was running naked through a field in subzero weather. Cold right down to the soul.

Then he stripped his bed, put on the fresh set of sheets he found lurking under the frame of the futon, and huddled in the middle of the mattress, waiting fatalistically for the injured bear sounds of Jim discovering all his little 'distractions'.

Nothing happened.

That was when the fear set in, the idea that he had managed to make Jim so mad that his senses were offline and he couldn't taste the hot sauce or the pepper and the coaster-less cup had slipped under his radar. Blair's first, second and last urge was to go to his partner, to see what damage he had done--maybe to accept his punishment for not only having sex in the loft but having sex in the loft with a man, thereby destroying what he was sure was Jim's carefully built defense wall. If I do not acknowledge that Blair leans both ways, he is not a threat.

That wall had kept them both safe way too many times in the past--

"Shit shit shit," Blair muttered again, hating the idea of himself as a threat to Jim, absolutely hating it. Then he added a final shit for emphasis and flopped backwards onto the bed. Stared at the ceiling for a few minutes. Wondered where he was going to get boxes to move all his stuff--he'd felt so safe here at Jim's, so much like he'd finally found himself some stability, and he'd allowed his collection of stuff to grow. Now it was way out of hand, and he had no idea where he was going to put it.

I'll sell some of it, he thought, which was a blow to his chest. Some of his stuff was worth a ton, both academically and artistically, but he'd let himself get possessive. It was all his stuff, like this was his room and Jim was his partner, and what was he going to do when he was back out in the world without a settled place for all his possessions?

What would he do when he didn't have Jim to hang around with?

It was more than just the dissertation, more than the adrenaline rush he got from chasing bad guys and helping good guys, it was...Jim. No matter what his Sentinel said or did to him today, Blair would always remember that he had been Jim's partner.

Hold onto that, he told himself. Hold on tight; you're in for a bumpy ride.

And then he climbed off the bed, neatened all his layers of clothing, and marched out of his room. If there was going to be a big blowout fight, if he was going to have to move...best to get it over with. To get it done before he talked himself into an emotional breakdown and Jim let him stay simply because he was a compassionate man, underneath the gruff exterior.

Yes. Better to cut out the best part of his life real quickly, real abruptly, like tearing off a bandage. The hurt would heal quicker that way, right? Hadn't it always been like that before?

Truth be told, he couldn't remember ever hurting so much as he hurt when he thought about leaving Jim. But that was the only option because Blair Sandburg knew when he had overstayed his welcome.

Jim was sitting at the table, eating his eggs like nothing was wrong with them. His gaze was focused out the window--it was a beautiful day, one of those rare sunny and bright days in Cascade when the city went wild with joy. Blair would have been willing to bet that Jim could see out to the ocean if his senses were all in working order.

He wondered, as he always did, what the world looked like when viewed through the lens of Sentinel senses--was the sky more blue, the air more golden? Or would he see only the thin layer of smog that hung over every city, even ecologically minded Cascade.

Blair edged closer to the table, wanting to ask Jim, wanting suddenly to know what the world looked like when you could see so far beyond the surface of things, knowing this was not the day for more questions--knowing that maybe his right to ask questions ever again was going to be rescinded. Jim wasn't violently homophobic or anything, in fact Blair was willing to bet he just didn't care about other people's sexuality under normal circumstances, but he wasn't sure if Jim's idea of 'normal' included a semi-gay housemate.

Jim's gaze was still focused outward, on the bright, cloudless sky, or perhaps he was looking inward; the only sign that he wasn't zoning was the slow and steady rise and fall of his fork.

Blair watched him eat for a few minutes and worried. If the pepper wasn't bothering Jim--well, that was most decidedly a bad sign. A clear indication that his senses had been knocked offline. As he always did at such times, Blair wished that he could protect Jim, solve all of the problems he had with his senses and in his life. Such a strange urge when he considered how big Jim was, how strong, how well-trained and gifted, how dominating, personality wise. But it was his gift that made him seem...vulnerable, to Blair at least. Defenseless as a kitten during a zone out.

It's maybe not your place to protect him, Blair thought, and the idea made his heart feel as brittle and fragile as frost. Maybe if you've had to hide away parts of yourself, then you were the wrong Guide for him all along.

Suddenly, with that thought, he didn't hurt anymore. It was as if he had just acknowledged and accepted that Jim wasn't...his. Not his to guide or to work with, not even his to play basketball with or watch TV with. Certainly, not his to love.

Maybe he won't be able to hurt me now, Blair thought, and he took a few steps towards the table. He was standing in a little puddle of warm spring sunlight, but wished idly that he'd put on another sweater--really, how had it gotten so cold since he'd woken up in bed with Jake? He remembered having been so warm then....

"Jim," he said, then cleared his throat. "Jim, man, we need--"

"To talk." Jim didn't look over as he finished the sentence, just continued to eat his eggs and stare out the window.

Blair agreed, but that didn't keep him from fidgeting, a few feet away from the table. "I, uh, I know I went against that no sex in the loft rule," he said quickly, hoping to get it all over with before he froze to death in his little patch of sunlight. "And I know that you--"

Jim shook his head and then finally looked at Blair. His gaze was still a little blank, a little distant, like he wasn't quite seeing what he was looking at. Blair tried hard not to take it personally--hadn't he known that something like this would be coming, anyway? And besides, Jim might have been focusing on something totally unrelated to the discussion, something he heard or smelled that was absolutely not about him. Just something that interested Sentinel senses.

Or he could have been focusing those senses so absolutely on Blair that he could see the blood pumping through veins and hear his cells dividing or something. Blair didn't want to know, and for sure he wasn't going to ask.

He shifted, then took a deep breath and dove in before he had a chance to talk himself out of it. "Ok, so I know it was against house rules, and I know that, you know, it was kind of a double mistake considering who exactly I was breaking the rule with, and I just want you to know that the minute you say the word, I am out of here. Loft to yourself. No more dealing with Sandburg, World's Largest Pest--"

Now Jim's focus snapped back, the dreaminess fading from his gaze. "Sandburg," he said, and Blair winced at the sound of his name, "I'm really hoping that you're not about to insult me by deciding that I'm going to freak out on you. I really don't want to know if you've got such a very low opinion of me--"

"Oh, no," Blair said, inching a little closer to the table, maybe a little encouraged, finally starting to hope that maybe Jim wouldn't kick him out of the loft as long as he made some kind of promise to never, ever do it again. "No way, man. I just know that some people aren't, you know, comfortable with...well, especially people who've had your kind of upbringing and spent all that time in the military and the police...you know, wicked macho people--"

Jim's lips twitched a little. "Wicked macho, huh?"

Blair blushed, tripped over his words and shut his mouth. He tried to think about what exactly he was supposed to be saying, doing, but there was nothing. No hints from his brain or his heart, just his stumbling tongue.

Didn't matter. Jim started talking before Blair could untangle his thoughts. "Sometimes," he said quietly, "I wish you were the Sentinel. So you could know what I know about people in three seconds flat."

Blair was digesting that, wondering what exactly Jim could know, wondering how they'd test it, when Jim lazily pushed back from the table and rose. Blair backed away quickly, but Jim matched his movements and confused him a little, then he realized that he was being stalked, and it was already too late. Jim had him trapped in a corner, and there was nowhere he could go but back a few extra inches, and that pinned his arms to his sides so he quickly moved forward again.

You've always wanted to be plastered to his chest like a wet T-shirt so enjoy it while you can, he told himself semi-hysterically, but then Jim was talking again and Blair lost his train of thought.

"For instance," Jim was saying, his voice warm and silky and so unexpectedly gentle that Blair blinked, "I know what you had for lunch yesterday--how come you get to sneak in cheeseburgers and I don't? And I can smell the herbs that are in your shampoo. Hell, give me a day or two and a rain forest to play in and I could probably make your shampoo."

"None of this surprises me, man," Blair said, nervous, looking for a way to escape and afraid of Jim's knowledge, more than ready to wimp out and run away.

"There's more." Jim put his hands on either side of Blair's face and angled his head so that their gazes met. "I can feel your pulse in every inch of your skin. Feel your warmth from a foot or more away."

Blair was frantic to escape, dead-sure that his eyes were rolling back in his head like those of a panicked horse. His mind knew that any second now, Jim was going to turn on him, but his body was treating this like an embrace, passionate play. If Jim moved one inch closer, he was going to be in big trouble.

"I can hear how your heart pounds when I get too close to you," Jim whispered, making Blair gasp. "How your lungs work harder. I can see your eyes darken. Everything. Every response that your body has to mine, I can see, and I have seen for the past..."

"Year," Blair whispered. "This past year."

Jim smiled, rubbed his thumbs over Blair's cheekbones. "More than a year," he said gently. "Almost since the day we met."

And now Blair was so freaked out because not ten minutes ago he'd been cold, cold, cold, and ready to move out of the loft in three minutes flat. But now, he was trapped in a corner and it sure as hell felt like he was being seduced.

"You know, Blair," Jim said, calm like they were maybe discussing basketball scores or debating over bagels and muffins, "the only sense that I can't remember using on you...is taste...."

And then his mouth was on Blair's and Blair gasped, slammed himself back into the corner, desperate to avoid Jim's kiss because obviously the extra pepper in his eggs had acted like a hallucinogen. But it was too late, Jim's mouth fitted over his with carnal assurance, deliberate ease, and Blair could only wallow in it.

Oh, God, Jim, he thought even as he curled his arms around the broad, warm torso that had him pinned in the corner. Back away. If you'd just let me go, we could pretend that this never happened. We could go on mostly as we had gone on before....

Jim didn't let go. He broke the kiss, yes, but didn't let go of Blair, pressed his forehead against Blair's and let their breath mingle and *didn't let go*. Blair tried to break away again but Jim was like a third wall there in front of him, a warm and efficient barrier.

"I looked in on the two of you last night, while you were sleeping," Jim whispered, apparently not at all embarrassed about it, which left Blair writhing in shame--at least, attempting to writhe while pinned to a wall and doing his best to keep his groin far, far away from any part of Jim's body. "Did you notice that guy could have been my younger, hairier twin? Or are you so good at hiding things from me that you hide them from yourself too?"

Blair was going to protest both Jim's voyeurism and his claim that Jake had looked like him, but couldn't because he suddenly realized that Jim was right. "Oh," he said. "Oh my God." Not only had Jake been a Jim clone...now that he thought about it, all the men he'd slept with in the past two years had been Jim clones. And now he could see that he hadn't fallen for those men the way he'd fallen for a few women because they had just been...male, but not Jim. He'd kept all this hidden not because he'd thought that Jim would not want to know but because he hadn't wanted to know.

"Oh," he said again, and pulled Jim's mouth back down to his.

Blair didn't quite know where his pants had gone, nor any of his sweaters. For any of those things to be removed, he and Jim would have needed to stop kissing and he definitely didn't remember not kissing Jim. In fact, it seemed to him that his entire history had been filled with kissing Jim, and he just hadn't realized it until now. But he was pretty sure, all in all, that his dick was lodged up tight against Jim's and that his shoulders were wedged into...bricks? Yes. The corner.

Now he remembered.

His head had been resting on Jim's shoulder but now that he remembered where he was and who he was with, he pretty much jumped backwards and slammed into the wall, which made him groan. Naked flesh against rough-faced brick was not pleasant. So he moved forward and came up against Jim, full body, nakedness to nakedness, and that was way too pleasant, so he looked for another escape route.

But Jim just growled, snatched him back, and ground their bodies together. Blair could feel both their dicks rising to the occasion and really, if Jim was crazy enough to want more, who was he to argue? But his own dick was mostly just twitching, not really getting into the game--there'd been three orgasms in the past day, so of course Blair Jr. wasn't going to pop back up like a spring. He just lolled against the wall and enjoyed the hot press of Jim's body--Jim's erection--against his own.

"You know," he said lightly, too lightly perhaps, "this is the first time I've ever been fucked up against the wall. Usually, if I don't make it to the bed, I at least hit the table. Or a sofa. And actually, I don't think wall sex would work too well, but I have to say, Jim, a wall hump is worth every scratch--"

"Worth it for me and you," Jim interrupted, his voice smooth and textured,like velvet on his skin. "But no more sex anywhere with anyone else."

Blair blinked slowly, but when he opened his eyes again, Jim's face was set in implacable lines. A nervous little shiver worked its way through Blair's body. He should have been prepared for this, for Jim to get possessive--that was part of his nature, for sure, and once they'd had sex, of course Jim was going to try to make some kind of claim--

Give yourself a break, he ordered himself. Until about ten minutes ago, you had no idea that anything like this was ever going to happen between us, so how could you have figured he'd be like this?

Not that 'like this' was a terribly bad thing. He had to admit, he was feeling a little raw himself, thinking about Jim being with someone else.

Wow, he thought, and maybe whispered. A monogamous, committed relationship with someone who's going to be good for me? What planet have I been beamed up to, and how can I make sure I never go home?

But...Jim really meant it. If Blair said, yes, ok Jim, you're it for me, Jim would do his damnedest to make that true for a good long time. But if he said, no, Jim. I need my space, my freedom, Jim would back away and they'd forget it all happened, forget entirely about this encounter up against the wall. He had a decision to make, a choice between two extremes....

And it was no contest at all, really.

He ground his hips against Jim's and grinned when the stark lines of Jim's face tightened even more, when his dick pressed even more insistently against Blair's body. He whispered, "Jim, Jim, Jim," making his partner's name like a chant, enjoying himself, offering himself up.

But of course, that wasn't enough. Not with Jim, who was a black and white kind of guy, a yes or no kind of guy. He wasn't off the hook. Jim's body was reacting, but there was little change in those dark blue eyes. Blair swallowed hard, stilled his rocking hips and bit his lower lip. "No one else, Jim," he finally said, so quietly that he could barely even hear himself. "No one else for as long as you want me."

Before the echo of his words had even stopped floating in the sunshine with the dust motes and the late spring warmth, Jim's mouth was back on his own, then racing over his shoulders, his neck, tugging on his nipples before comforting them with slow licks.

Blair began chanting Jim's name again by the time Jim's kisses reached his abdomen, but the fact that he could no longer seem to breathe shut him up when Jim sank to his knees and began to play with his dick, his stomach, the tops of his thighs....

It felt like Jim was going to swallow him whole, in more ways than one, and for a second Blair panicked--it had seemed like a good idea at the time two minutes ago when he'd said yes to Jim and everything that came with Jim, but now he was feeling a little claustrophobic, just a little panicky--

"Breathe, Blair," Jim ordered, and it was kind of funny how a guy could seem so masculine and dangerous when he was licking little circles from your pubic hair to your belly button. But breathe Blair did, deep and gasping lungfuls of air that hurt a little and made his head spin, but Jim's mouth was on his dick again and Blair forgot that there had ever been another way to breathe and that he'd ever stood on solid ground.

He was too tired to really respond--four orgasms were enough, thanks--but it felt so good, like Jim had spent years of his life learning exactly how to touch him right--

At least, it felt good until Blair tried to arch his back and found himself scraped by the wall again. "Jim, come on, man," he said, but then Jim licked inside his belly button, and Blair kind of lost track of what he was saying. He had to think really hard to remember the bricks and how bad he was going to be scraped. "Come on, Jim, the couch, the counter, the bed, let's go, let's go--" and now he was just babbling because Jim was sucking his balls quite gently, caressing one as he took the other into his mouth, then switching. Blair's eyes very nearly rolled back in his skull.

But he couldn't move without being reminded that he was up against the wall, in quite a literal fashion.

"Jim, the bed," he began to say again, began to chant, and finally Jim rose. Blair grinned because Jim's knees creaked as he straightened and if it had been anyone else in the world he wouldn't have said, "Getting a little old there? Maybe too old for this kind of stuff?" but it was Jim, who knew he was a smart-ass and liked that he was a smart-ass, so he could maybe say whatever he wanted to.

"Could be that I am," Jim agreed very smoothly. "I'm certainly older than the stud you took home last night, right? So...." and here he spun them around, so that he was standing with his back to the wall, and pushed Blair down. "Maybe you should be the one on his knees, huh? How's that sound?"

It actually sounded better than anything Blair had thought about in ages, and since he could see how hard and delicious Jim was--the view was just incredible--he decided that this was the best thing in the world to do.

He hadn't actually done this for Jake last night, although he was pretty sure they'd done a whole lot of other stuff he'd never thought of before. There was just something about this that seemed innately vulnerable to him, something about being the one down on the floor that made him feel subservient. He'd had a lover tell him once, "No, you're totally the one with the power--you could frigging kill the little guy, you know--" but that had never rung true. He always felt...tentative.

But this was Jim, and so it was different. Yes, he still felt vulnerable, yes, he still felt a little unsure. But Jim's big, warm hands were cradling his head so gently, stroking his throat, and he accepted without a qualm that Jim was in control of this right now and that Jim *would never hurt him*. Jim had a master's touch but Blair was fumbling a little--and enjoying himself. A lot.

It took Jim a while to come, but that was great so far as Blair was concerned, because he was having a good time. Never in his wildest fantasies had he imagined anything like this, but now that it was happening...he had to wonder how he'd survived so long without the feel of Jim's bare skin beneath his palms. And when Jim was softening, slumped against the wall and breathing heavy like he'd run a marathon, Blair climbed back up his body, tucked himself into Jim's neatly hairless chest and wondered why he had to let someone hurt him, had to work himself into a panic, just to get Jim this close.

Not that it was Jim's fault so far as Blair could tell. In fact, it seemed like Jim had been waiting for this even longer than he had, if that was possible.

He settled himself against Jim's chest and sighed, absorbing the feel of Jim into his skin and wondering what he had done to deserve something this good in his life, after messing around with people like Jake.

"Hey," he said quietly, when Jim's heart had settled into a more normal rhythm and Jim's arms had come up and wrapped around him. "Jim, man, why did we wait so long? And why didn't you kick mine and Jake's asses when you realized what was going on? And I've been wondering for a long time how sex is different now that your senses are online--"

Jim chuckled and slipped a palm over Blair's mouth. "I was waiting for you to be ready, to act on your feelings," he said, then pressed harder when Blair widened his eyes with outrage. "I didn't kick your ass because I saw how much that guy looked like me and I just knew that your having brought him here was meant to be a goad to me. And sex with Sentinel senses can be a pain--if your partner isn't particularly clean, or ate something garlicky in the last few days, or you open yourself up too much."

Blair wrenched his head to the side and went right to the important stuff--"So what did I have for lunch...Friday?"

Jim shook his head and Blair grinned. "Cheeseburger, Chief. I already told you that."

"So is it unpleasant to kiss someone?" Blair looked around for one of his notebooks, having mostly forgotten that he was naked until Jim turned his head back with gentle hands and kissed him again, nice and slow, lingering over it.

"Not unpleasant at all to kiss you," he said after Blair broke the kiss to get oxygen--he'd forgotten how to breath through his nose while kissing, crazily enough--then Jim lowered his mouth again to prove it.

"So you knew all along?" Blair asked when the kisses were slowed, stopped, and Jim's forehead and his own were pressed together again. Jim just shrugged and Blair socked him on the arm. "So why didn't you do something, you jerk?"

Jim leaned back a little, frowning. "I've...taken too much from you, Chief." He shrugged again, looked away. "I wanted you to give me this without reservation. And I hope I didn't fail...."

"Of course not, man. I just don't understand why you waited so long."

Jim hesitated. "Because you're worth it," he finally said, very quietly, and Blair realized suddenly that these past years of living with Jim had all been part of some kind of elaborate, complicated Sentinel courtship period, and he wanted to either hit Jim for dragging it out or kiss him.

And maybe knowingly, maybe not, Jim had hit on Blair's biggest insecurity--that he *wasn't* worth it. Worth someone else's love. Especially not someone like Jim...he'd thought that for the rest of his life, he'd have to deal with the Jakes of the world, and the Mayas. He'd never thought to have anything like this with someone like Jim. And the idea that he could, that he did, was suddenly overwhelming.

"They were taking bets on how many people I'd slept with, over in the English department," he whispered furiously against Jim's chest. "Jake fucked me...I don't know why. Attraction, sure, but there were other reasons--"

"My only reason, Chief," Jim said, and his voice was so calm and sure that Blair looked up, fell into his gaze, "my only reason is love."

Blair put his hand right over Jim's heart, felt it beat, knew that Jim could feel his heart beat, and smiled. "Pretty good reason," he said, and watched Jim's already dark eyes grow deeper. "Not so bad at all."

"You wanna lay a bet down on that, Chief?" Jim said quietly before nibbling on his ear, and Blair laughed, warm with delight again, happy, ready to take on the jerks in the English department and all the jerks at the station, if he had to. Ready to take on all the jerks in the world, just so long as Jim was with him....

And he was pretty sure that Jim would always be with him.

Big trouble, indeed.