Archive of Our Own ^beta

Author's webpage: http://www.skeeter63.org/jayci/

Author's disclaimer: The characters from the TV series "The Sentinel" are not my property, and I am not making money off of them. That's all I have to say.

Blair undid the four buttons on the front of the dark blue jacket, noting the tension radiating from the stiff figure standing before him. It had been a rough day. But he could fix that. He had definite ideas about how to fix that, and for once, not one involved talking. Unless "harder...faster...more..." counted as conversation.

Once it was removed, Blair folded the jacket neatly over the railing by the bed. Hey, he could do Ellison when he had to, if he had to, but he'd be damned if he was going to actually take time to put the thing on a hanger. 'Do Ellison.' He bit back a chuckle. 'Oh yeah, most definitely.' Turning his attention back to the standing figure, he moved to the tie, loosening it, and slipping it off. With slightly shaky fingers, he went for the belt buckle, but a large hand came up to stop him. Glancing up, he looked into blue eyes tinted with sadness, and laughed out loud. The hat. He had forgotten about the hat. He snatched it off of Jim's head, and in inspired Sandburg fashion, sent it sailing, ornamental braid and all, to the living room below. He looked back, one hand still held in a strong grip, and was pleased to see a twinkle where before he had seen sorrow, feeling some of the tension easing from the solid body, dissipating into thin air.

"Let me finish here, Ellison."

He pulled his hand free, unbuttoning the detective's fly, and lowering the zipper, taking deep breaths as he consciously ignored his itchy palms. That tingling sensation that he knew wouldn't be appeased until he got his hands on, around, and totally full of a certain piece of flesh now safely tucked inside those sharply creased pants. Okay. Breathe. Move on. Fighting the temptation to just rip the front of Jim's best dress uniform shirt apart, Blair focused on the task of undoing each separate button, top to bottom, and only the jerking motion as he pulled the shirttails free gave away the level of his impatience.

He removed the shirt, laying it across the railing as well, though not bothering to fold it. Fine, he had already reached the end of his 'Ellison the neat freak' impersonation. As long as one super-controlling, hypersensitive police detective didn't interrupt the flow to fold it - it was good enough.

Blair turned and stared. Piercing blue eyes stared back. Every single one of his muscles tensed, and then his whole body was trembling. He held the gaze, eyes locked as he moved close again, recognizing the trembling for what it was, love...desire...need, and he did not want it to be mistaken for fear. He wasn't afraid. Hell, he was just eager.

He dropped to his knees, temporarily closing the door on the images that action produced, and untied Jim's shoes, then tugged gently so each foot was lifted and the shoes removed. He got the socks off next, then looked up, eyes travelling the full length of the man, mind totally occupied with the full length still hidden from his view behind layers of material. Reaching up, he pulled until the pants pooled in a dark blue heap around Jim's ankles.

He had to give him credit - Jim didn't even flinch at the idea of all of that crisply pressed fabric wrinkling on the floor. Instead, he exhaled sharply, shuddered a little, and sprang a hard-on that looked like it wouldn't ever quit. Jim Ellison - tall, hard, deliciously filling out a sleeveless undershirt, and practically bursting out of a pair of boxers. And Blair Sandburg? Blair Sandburg was on his knees, mouth watering, hungrily eyeing the awesome presentation. On his knees, still dressed in his slacks, sportcoat and tie. Damn.

He got up, sportcoat hitting the floor before he was on his feet, one hand unknotting his tie, the other fumbling at the front of his shirt, trying to pull it loose, yanking at it, not caring in the least about losing any of his buttons. Hell-bent on catching up, on getting at least as undressed as the silent cop standing in the room with him. One part of his brain registered the fact that Jim had stepped out of his pants and was neatly folding them over the railing with the rest of his clothes. He would have laughed when he saw Jim hesitate briefly over the hastily tossed dress shirt, debating, no doubt, whether to remedy the situation, but that would have taken too much energy. Energy better served getting his fucking belt open.

"Sandburg."

Blair went still, frozen in mid-motion, belt loops saved by the sound of the deep voice, and watched Jim approach, the picture of calm and reserve. He would have been angry, or embarrassed, that he was breathless, fumbling, half-crazed, while Jim looked like the poster boy for 'never let 'em see you sweat', except he wasn't fooled, because he knew the signs. The flared nostrils - indication that Jim was practically inhaling him. The steady rise and fall of that muscular chest, extra slow and extra deep - yeah, Blair remembered teaching Jim that technique the very week he met him. And the eyes - eyes that usually flashed icy blue sparks, smouldered deep, and dark and hot.

Jim Ellison was on the edge, clinging desperately to his control in that quiet way that only Jim Ellison had.

When they were face to face again, Jim pushed Blair's hands away, and quickly undid the offending belt.

"Let me finish." The deep rumble started Blair to trembling again.

And then Jim did a fairly good Sandburg impression and started tossing clothes.

It had been a rough day, but it was getting better, wonderfully, crazily better. And Jim tried real hard not to feel guilty about that. That he was shedding the pain as each piece of his clothing was removed.

He had tried to pace himself, used all of his tricks. Okay, all of Sandburg's tricks, short of dropping to the floor in a lotus position and chanting. But hell, Blair undressing him? He hadn't stood a chance. In all honesty, Blair breathing could be his undoing, but as long as his partner had been taking it slow, that gave him space, room to keep himself in check.

But, seeing the younger man in such a hurry, every scent coming from him suddenly ten times more intense, made him ready. Ready to let loose with a sense of abandon that he knew could only come from being with one particular person. One breathless, beautiful man.

Jim Ellison was ready to pounce.

He removed Blair's belt, letting it fall from his fingers to the floor. The unknotted tie suffered the same fate. Blair still hadn't moved, and glancing up, Jim decided he had to do one more thing before he got to the rest of the clothing. With both hands he reached behind his partner's head, releasing the curly ponytail, letting the strands tickle his fingertips for just a fleeting second. He felt no concern whatsoever as he eyed the half-buttoned, half-torn open shirt, didn't even pause, just pulled it free. Not one thought spared for the rest of the buttons as they fell loose, or the shirt itself as it flew from his hand, only to land almost magically over the railing.

There was no way he could slow down now, so he simply pushed Blair until he was seated on the edge of the bed, then pushed him again so that he was laying flat out. Then, he was removing the socks and shoes and tossing them, letting them fall where they may. The thud of shoes hitting the floor sent a thrill through him, an indication that he was that much closer to Blair naked. The whisper of each sock fluttering through the air teased his ears enough to make his dick tingle. That much closer.

Jim reached for the pants, filling himself with everything his heightened senses could grasp. Zeroing in on the nipples poking at their thin cotton covering, letting the various scents meld. The not quite controlled breathing was sweet music to his ears, saliva filling his mouth as he watched, anticipating, and his fingers knew what they would be feeling as soon as all of that fabric was out of the way. He felt a brief moment of pity for every man that wasn't him, and then he grabbed hold of Blair's pants, yanking them off, boxers and all, and realized he didn't give a damn about those other unfortunate bastards.

He blinked, a little startled by the sudden sight of Blair laid out, half naked, and tore his attention away from the pulsing vein on the exposed underside of his partner's hard-on. But, it left him wondering what the hell he was doing standing around in his underwear. He lowered his boxers, kicking them away, pulling his shirt over his head, and throwing that away as well. They could have landed back in the jungles of Peru for all he cared. He didn't need underwear; he had plenty of underwear, all neatly stacked in a dresser drawer for later...much later.

He barely gave Blair time enough to struggle out of his own T-shirt, and then he was on him.

Jim was laying on him, the heated flesh making him feel exceptionally warm, and Blair thought, 'Heaven must be like this.' Jim brought his face closer, but didn't give his partner the kiss he had been expecting. Instead, he spoke softly into his ear.

"Oh, god..."

And Blair understood, absolutely, totally understood that feeling of being overwhelmed. After all, Jim was laying on him, naked, and heaven must be like this.

Jim rubbed his face in Blair's hair, then nipped at the curve of the broad shoulder closest to his mouth, forcing himself to move away from the potent scent of that mane of curls, afraid he would lose himself in it. Afraid that he wouldn't be able to resist the urge to just bury his dick in it and end the whole shooting match right there.

Instead, he moved lower, paying just enough attention to certain spots to make damned sure that he had Sandburg's undivided attention, easing the legs apart, trying not to explode as he thought about the mission ahead into territory that was new to him, territory that was now his, exclusively his. And Sentinels had a thing about their territory, just ask a certain anthropologist.

The very same anthropologist whose knees were suddenly in the air exposing the gateway to pleasure. The very same anthropologist who was suddenly whispering.

"...now..."

Jim was on the edge, but he wasn't crazy. As much as he wanted in, as hot as that pleading whisper made him, he knew he still had stuff to do. Giving in to an earlier temptation, he bent low and licked the tip of Blair's erection, washing away the dribbles, getting a sort of vicious glee as the younger man's body arched and rose off the bed. He mouthed the head briefly, giving Blair something to tide him over, something to think about, as he got ready for the next step.

Jim pushed a slick thumb inside his partner's body, feeling Blair mold himself around that thick digit. Short, shallow breaths reached his ears and he moved his thumb in and out in sync.

"...please, now..."

Jim had to consider the state of affairs - his condition, Blair's condition - weighing it against the possible consequences. He didn't want to take a chance on hurting his partner, but maybe a shortcut was in order. He pushed his other thumb in alongside the first one, quickly working them around inside the tight passage.

"...damn, jim...please..."

And then Jim had the lubed tip of his cock poised for penetration. He eased the head in slowly, immensely pleased with himself that he hadn't lost it, forcing himself to give Blair time to get used to him, wanting to cause as little pain as possible. It seemed Blair was doing just fine, so he gave a tentative push, and was surprised to find that he was in. Blair had just hungrily, eagerly sucked him in, all the way in, and hot damn, the sweet tightness was the closest he thought he would ever get to heaven on earth.

"...more..."

Crazily, Jim thought, 'More? I'm in up to my balls already, there isn't any more', but, reasonably, he started to do more. Provided more action, more friction, and more movement. Hips steadily pumping out more rhythm, balls bouncing, ass muscles clenching, with Blair meeting every stroke.

"...faster..."

Faster? Okay, he could do faster. He increased the tempo to double-time, daring the younger man to keep up.

"...harder..."

Shit. Harder? He was barely holding on as it was, but James Ellison was no quitter, so he gave it all he had.

That was the end of conversation for Blair. All he could manage after that was a hiss as he sucked in a breath every time Jim pulled out, and a grunt every time Jim slammed back home. Didn't matter. He'd been told he talked too much anyway. Just as long as Jim didn't stop, because he was in heaven.

Yeah, heaven must be like this. This state of constantly being on the edge. Blair found himself thinking, 'Please, let me come; no, please, not yet. Please, let me come; no, please, not yet. Please... let me come; no, please... not yet.' Back and forth - alternating between praying for the pleasure to continue, and desperately wanting the feeling of release. Release won out, didn't it always? The moment overtook him, leaving his mouth open in a silent scream.

For a moment, Blair panicked. He couldn't feel anything, couldn't hear anything. One minute - coming in strong blasts, spraying his chest and stomach, the next minute - nothing. Then, he opened his eyes, and of course, he could see. Suddenly, he could smell the spice of the semen on his body, could hear Jim's labored breathing and the whispered chanting of 'blair...blair'. And he couldn't miss the tensing as his lover's cock went super rigid inside him, before spasming rhythmically as Jim lost his battle with control.

Heaven must be like this. Heaven better be like this.

Blair opened his eyes and stretched, rolling over in bed until he connected with the solid warmth of a body. The familiar calm face of Jim Ellison greeted him, but Jim did not look happy, and Blair had a feeling it wasn't because his shirt was crumpled, or that his dick was still sticky.

"What's wrong?"

"I'm sorry."

It took all of two seconds for Blair to be on him, straddling him, gripping his arms fiercely, eyes flashing.

"Don't even go there, Jim. Don't you dare say you're sorry about this."

"Sandburg..."

"I'm serious, Jim. You're forcing me to think violent thoughts, here."

"Sandburg! Stop theorizing! I don't mean what you think I mean." Blair eased his grip and Jim closed his eyes. "I wanted our first time to be... I don't know." He let himself look into his lover's eyes. "I didn't want it to be the product of a day like today. I could hear you thinking, 'I know just how to release all of that negative energy.'" He laughed softly as Blair's jaw dropped. "Hey, don't get me wrong, I loved it, and I feel better... but you've been having those dreams, and I wanted our first time to be..."

Blair rolled off of Jim's body, plopping onto his back and staring at the ceiling.

"This is about my dreams? You know for a crack detective, you can be so clueless. How can you miss something this major? Weren't you just making this bed bounce with me a little while ago?"

He turned to Jim, looking at his lover's nakedness.

"You think I'd rather have my dreams, than this? You think I'd rather have a fantasy jungle warrior, or Army Ranger, or beat cop, than the reality of you lying naked next to me, cum drying on us both from making love? Man, Jim."

He rolled back onto his back, staring at the ceiling once more.

"I know this was a shitty day, and yeah, I wanted to make you feel better, but I could have just gotten you a beer."

Jim reached out and pulled Blair to him. "I love you."

"Yeah, see Jim, if I had just my dreams, I'd be waking up alone. But, now, with this, you have your arms around me, saying you love me. No fucking comparison."

"I love you."

Blair smirked. "You already said that."

"Well, you missed your cue. I was waiting for you to say it back."

"You know that I love you."

"Yeah, I do."

"So, know this: you're still my fantasy."

Jim smiled. Sometimes he felt so old, so tired, and so dirty from doing what he did everyday. From doing what he had been doing from the first time he had ever put on a uniform. But, Blair...Blair made that all right. He could pick dozens of things about his lover that drove him crazy, but the bottom line was Blair had always made everything all right.

"Well, in your fantasies does Jim Ellison get to take a shower, because that's what I feel like right now?"

Blair was off the bed, tugging on Jim's hand. "Hey, shower fantasies! I'm in. Maybe I'll dream about it tonight."

Jim rolled his eyes. "You know, I'm not going to appreciate being used for your nighttime perversions.

"Trust me, Jim. You'll be used plenty for my nighttime perversions, daytime, too. And I can guarantee, you won't mind."

"Shower, Chief."

"Fine, but I have an idea. Later, let's go down and get a few things out of storage...like a certain Ranger uniform, or fatigues, or..."

"Sandburg!"

"Come on, Jim. Okay...what about just the beret?"

-----The End-----