The Good Friend - Part five
By Jack Reuben Darcy

He lay in bed and listened to the night. Listened to all the things he was used to and tried to filter them out, the way he'd taught Jim. But it wasn't easy. In order to know what to filter out, he had to concentrate on it first, know everything about it.

He was so tired of thinking. So tired of hurting and being hurt in return. Tired of moods which shifted and strayed, starving him of any kind of stability he could trust. Tired of the rug being pulled out from under feet still trembling from the last fall. So tired now he couldn't even sleep.

Why wasn't there a drug that could simply switch the brain off for eight hours? Or rather, why wasn't there one which wouldn't risk life and limb?

He needed a holiday - one where he could leave himself behind. The self he didn't know and didn't like and didn't even want to look at any more. He wanted to go somewhere and find the self he'd lost along this path. The self he trusted, the self who didn't mind caring and who could deal with it, who could face up to expectations and responsibilities without flinching, who openly welcomed interesting and exciting changes and allowed himself to be altered by them, to grow from them. That's what life was about, wasn't it?

Wasn't it?

At least, it had always felt like that before. Before all this had begun. Before Nick. Before ...

He gripped his hands together. He could still feel the gun between them, a ghost of promised death. Would it have felt good to pull the trigger? For a moment, yes. For one single moment, it would have felt just fine - but then he would be faced with a lifetime of moments when it would have felt anything but.

He no longer even knew himself. The Blair Sandburg that had held a gun tonight was not a man he knew. Desperate times did not always call for desperate measures - but he had taken them nonetheless. He'd been prepared to. He'd welcomed the risk with open arms.

And he'd almost pulled the trigger.

Almost.

Did that count? Was he almost a killer?

Was he kidding himself?

If Jim and Simon hadn't been there, if he'd thought he could get away with it, if there was some way to do that - would he have finished it? Would he have taken the gun with him in the first place if he'd thought, really thought for one moment that there was this vague, insubstantial and terrifying possibility that he might have gone through with it?

Unable to trust to events and people to make sure the job was done right, he'd trusted himself - and found ... what?

The absence of some resounding answer set his body to trembling again.

This was too much, wasn't it? All of this. Everything that had happened. Had he now lost so much of himself he could believe he'd have the capability to murder?

Or ...

Did almost count? Almost - but not? Could have been a murderer - but chose not to be? Did that work? Could he trust that? Could he rely on some last shred of himself to believe that he would never have pulled the trigger?

The shaking slowed a little, letting him draw a long breath in. He let it out before trying another.

Jim would know. He would understand. He saw the shifting patterns of lines in people's lives and the power required to make a step over one. But he no longer had the ability to ask - and it was doubtful Jim would answer.

So ...

They no longer needed each other. The worst was past. The crises was gone. Where did that leave them?

Apart.

A soft groan filtered to his ears. He opened his eyes and sat up, frowning in the darkness. Jim had gone to bed - hadn't he? But the noise wasn't coming from upstairs, but instead, from beyond his doors.

Another groan and he got out of bed. There was stifled pain in that voice.

He threw on sweats and a t-shirt and carefully opened his door, listening intently. A hiss followed by another groan made him move.

Stepping out into the lounge, he squinted in the dark. The blinds were drawn down and only the smallest amount of light peeked through around the edges. Even so, the figure on the couch was definitely Jim - and he was in pain.

Moving quickly now, he knelt beside the form of his partner, trying to see all he could - without turning a light on. Jim appeared to be asleep - but he was restless, tossing his head in small jerks as though fighting something off.

"Jim?" Blair spoke quietly but the sound of his voice seemed to have no affect. "Jim? Come on man, you're just dreaming, okay?"

"No," Jim's hiss sliced the quiet. "Not asleep. Can't sleep."

"Why not?"

"Hurts."

Frowning again, Blair leaned forward, "What hurts?"

Abruptly, Jim sat up, burying his face in his hands, "My eyes. Won't stop hurting. Tried drops and cream and everything but they just hurt so much I can't sleep."

Blair moved to kneel directly in front of the older man. "Can you look at me?"

Jim shook his head, "Hurts to open them."

"Can you just try? I need to see your eyes."

Taking a deep breath, Jim lifted his head then opened his eyes a little. Blair could see no redness around the blue but they were obviously irritated by something. After the briefest moment, Jim closed them again, screwing up his face against the pain.

"Okay," Blair nodded to himself. He then got up and went into the bathroom. He ran a towel under the cold tap, squeezed out the excess water and went back into the living room. "Lie down, Jim."

Jim moved carefully, lying on his back. Blair knelt beside him again and laid the towel on his eyes. "Just listen to me, okay? I want you to focus only on the sound of my voice. Just listen and focus."

With a tiny nod, Jim whispered, "Keep talking."

"Okay. You just keep listening. I don't know what's wrong with your eyes but if you can focus on sound for a while ..."

"No ... talk about something else. Tell me ..."

"What?"

"About ... about ... you."

"Me?" Blair held his breath, not sure if he could do this.

"About you and ... and when you started dating guys. Please."

"Okay, okay." Blair adjusted the cloth and kept his hand on it. "Me and guys. Right. Well, I suppose we didn't ever talk about it, did we? I know you thought ... Nick was the first but he wasn't. I guess I'd always been looking at guys. At least as far back as I was looking at girls. Never really did much about it at first. Kind of fell in love with a boy in high school. We fooled around a little but then he moved and I figured it was for the best. It was only after I started college that I did anything more. But ... until Nick, well, I hadn't been out with a guy for a while. I just ... I ..."

Jim's hand closed over his, squeezing a little. "Chief?"

"Yeah?"

"It's okay now."

"You sure?"

Jim took the towel from his eyes and slowly opened them. His gaze hit Blair hard and he swallowed. "Great. That's great. Um ... think you can sleep now?"

"Sure." Jim's gaze didn't budge - so Blair got to his feet.

"Good night."

Jim nodded and he left, heading back to his bedroom. He closed the door and got back under the covers.

They didn't need each other any more, right? They didn't. So if they didn't, they could just go their separate ways, right? They could, couldn't they?

He closed his eyes, settled and tried to convince his brain to shut the fuck up for a while and give him a break. He pushed hard, deliberately focusing only on some nice blank page image, concentrating on that until the other thoughts in his head slowed and silenced.

He woke to a sound from the living room. Blinking, he was instantly alert. It was Jim again, groaning.

Without hesitating this time, he got up and went to his friend, kneeling down beside the couch. "Jim? Your eyes again?"

Jim flinched hard at the sound of his voice, instantly putting his hands to his ears. "No!"

Blair didn't need further explanations - it was obvious. Instead, he reached out and put his hands on Jim's, touching gently, forcing himself to move slowly. Talking now would be a mistake so he had to remind Jim silently to focus, to dial down, to concentrate.

He moved his hands, feeling the smooth skin on the backs of Jim's. There was no discernible difference to Jim's pain so Blair leaned forward, placed his lips on the back of Jim's hand and mouthed the words. "Focus on my touch."

Jim's eyes shot open, wide, his gaze locking on Blair - and suddenly Blair couldn't move. The air between them crackled with electricity. His heart began to pound and as though Jim heard it, he closed his eyes again, backing down.

Long, terrible seconds drew out and then Jim nodded, "You can let go now. Everything's fine."

"Jim, I..."

"Go to bed. I'm fine." With that, he rolled over onto his side, giving Blair a view of no more than his back.

This was a rejection. Blair had learned enough over the last few weeks to know one when he saw one. A burst of anger surged up inside him - but he bit down on it. What would yelling at Jim achieve right now? And what did he want it to achieve? Why be angry?

Why be angry with Jim?

He went back to bed. He ducked under the covers, pulled them over his head and squeezed his eyes tight.

But it didn't do any good. He couldn't get back to sleep. The last four weeks simply wouldn't leave him alone and it didn't matter how many times he went over it, how confused he felt, how wounded and hurt and scarred he knew he was, it still didn't alter the plain and awful fact that he didn't want to be here - he wanted to be out there, with Jim.

Jim was his best friend. Jim was hurting, inside and out. His pain was making his senses spike to the point where he couldn't dial it down without help. But he didn't want Blair's help, did he? He didn't want ...

A sharp groan had him out of the bed immediately. Within seconds he was standing by the couch, watching Jim pull off his t-shirt, frantic hands tearing the fabric. Without hesitating, Blair grabbed the man's arm and urged him to his feet. He dragged him to the bathroom but even before they reached the door, he could see the huge red welts rise along Jim's throat and arms where his skin was reacting to simple cloth. As Jim scrambled out of the rest of his clothes, Blair turned on the water, putting just enough hot into the mix to take the chill off it. Then he stepped back and let the man get in on his own. He stopped outside the door but left it open, so he could talk.

"You have to tell me what's bothering you. This isn't going to stop, you know. You're just going to alternate between one sensory spike and another until you're a shrivelled up mess in a mental ward somewhere. Now, please, man - we both need some sleep. Talk to me. I want to help."

"You want to help?" Jim's voice was cutting. "Come in here, then. Strip off and climb in here with me. Don't flinch when I touch you and don't cry rape when I fuck you."

"Jim! I'm serious! You have to tell me what's wrong!"

"Why? Is it going to make a difference? Sure, the sensory spikes might go away but right now, at least they're giving me something else to think about. And why should I tell you? Why do you think you can help me when you're the cause of it all anyway ..." The rest was lost in the spray of the shower.

Blair said nothing, knowing there was no point. Instead, he stood there and waited and eventually, the shower turned off. Jim dried himself, pulled his sweats back on and appeared at the door, the marks on his chest now almost gone.

"Better?" Blair ventured carefully.

Jim just shook his head and turned for the couch. He sat down with a thump and buried his head in his hands once more.

For a minute, Blair didn't know whether to go to him or not. There were too many reasons not to and too many reasons to do it and all of them crowded his head at the same time but not one of them really had anything to do with the fact that regardless of how he felt or whether he really felt anything at all or not and whether he knew who he was and whether he trusted himself to even make it that far, the one thing that kept facing him here was the undeniable fact that Jim needed him - and he wanted to be needed.

By Jim.

And ...

And he wanted to be wanted by Jim.

And ...

No. That was enough for the moment. Enough for this moment.

He moved. Slowly, stealthily, so as not to worry the sentinel. He crossed the room and knelt before him. "Jim?"

"Why can't you just leave me alone?"

"Because you need me."

"I don't."

"Fine. Behave like a spoiled brat - but do as I say anyway."

"What?"

Blair tossed the words around in his head - but there was no way to say this without the obvious connotations. "Come to bed with me. You'll be more comfortable and that way, if you get any more spikes, I can help before they get too bad."

"No," Jim was shaking his head, denial in every inch of his body. He stubbornly refused to look up. "No. Bed is too ... too ... Oh, fuck, Sandburg, why can't you just ... just leave me ... and Christ, I don't mean that, I don't want you to leave me I just want this to be over. I can't do this any more, you know? I can't sit here and watch you walk out again because I know you will and I guess, I really should be able to let you go if I was anything like the good friend I want to be but I just ... can't ... and ... Oh, fuck!"

"Jim," Blair placed his hands on Jim's knees. "Come to bed. Come on, it won't hurt any more, I promise."

"Don't give me that crap!" Without warning, Jim sprang to his feet, stepping way from Blair as though he were afraid of something. "Do you have any idea what if feels like to be so close to you and not be allowed to touch you? Do you?"

Blair frowned and stood, facing Jim but unable to stop the heavy pacing back and forth. "You can touch me, Jim. I never said ..."

"You told me to stay away - in no uncertain terms - and what good would it do anyway, eh? If you let me touch you, I can only do it as a friend and you know I want more than that. So I have to just pretend that I'm your best friend, watch you walk out and leave me because you can't love me and I know I shouldn't say that and I shouldn't expect it but I do. I do, okay? Because I love you and I want you and it scares the shit out of me but I can't help it."

Blair approached him slowly, the razored edge of Jim's words cutting into him, making him bleed. "It's okay to touch me, Jim. Really. I promise you, it is."

"Oh, right, like I promised you to destroy your research. God, this has become such a game between us, hasn't it? Trust and betrayal, all one and the same. Now I don't believe you - so where does that leave us, eh? I just need something to make me sleep and it will be fine..."

Blair faced him, stopped the pacing and reached out with careful hands to touch bare shoulders. "It's okay to touch me, Jim. I don't mind."

"Don't do this, Blair!"

"I," Blair swallowed, holding it in, keeping it steady because Jim needed him to. "I want you to touch me."

Jim pushed his hands away, his eyes anguished, reeking the pain his body was forcing onto him, "Don't you understand!"

"I do, really I do..."

"No you DON'T!" Jim grabbed his hands tight, his chest heaving. "I almost shot you tonight! I almost ... pulled the fucking trigger! I love you and I would have ... I would have ....." Jim's voice broke at the last and silent tears spilled out of his eyes, down his cheeks.

Blair gazed steadily at him, listening to the echo of those words in his own mind. Firmly, but gently, he eased his wrists free then brought his hands up to frame Jim's face. "But you didn't shoot me. And you know why? Because you knew I wouldn't kill Holmes. You knew, Jim, you knew."

"I knew ... nothing," Jim breathed, his body a temple of contained fever. "I ... hoped, that's all. I hoped."

Blair shuddered - but stepped closer anyway, bringing Jim's face down a little, until he could reach it. Then, holding his breath, he kissed the man. Instantly, Jim stiffened with denial - but Blair wouldn't let him pull away. Instead, he kissed him again, letting his tongue play against a mouth closed to him. Jim's resistance held, unwilling to trust, not wanting charity ... and yet ...

Blair let his body speak, moving close enough for Jim to feel the warmth of another living soul, one who cared for him. He kissed those lips again and for a moment, he thought Jim might push him away - but then suddenly, Jim's arms came around him and grabbed him close, opening to make the kiss real, plunging his tongue deep into Blair's mouth, harsh with desperation.

Jim groaned, his hunger forcing a closer connection and Blair allowed it, lifting his arms around Jim's neck, letting the man take what he needed. And then the kiss was over and Jim just held him, burying his face in Blair's hair. His whole body trembled, making his voice shake. "God, I love you so much, Blair. I do. I'm so sorry."

Blair's guts twisted at the plaintive apology, the depths of anguish feeding those whispered words. Jim did need him - no matter what he said but ...

This went beyond need. This was hovering perilously close to necessity. The only question was, was he strong enough to give?

"Come to bed, Jim," Blair whispered one more time, reaching out and touching the link, even as it was formed. "Trust me, okay? Just trust me. I'll help you get some sleep. Trust me."

Slowly, almost painfully, Jim's tension eased a little and eventually, he gave a short, despairing nod. Blair eased back and took Jim's hand in his own. Leading him into the bedroom, Blair switched on a lamp, pulled the covers back and made sure Jim lay down. There wasn't much room - but there was enough for them to lie together, Blair spooned up behind Jim, arms wrapped around him. Jim breathed deeply, settled - then took Blair's hand in his, holding it to his chest.

Blair closed his eyes - but left the lamp on.

Thick, muzzy dreams inhabited his night. Glass broken at his feet, voices raised in anger and shadows of changing shape he could never identify. But there was something else there, a presence, and he held onto it, kept track of it and followed it up to the surface until he could breathe, until he could feel again, could afford to feel again.

Feel ...

Feel ... warmth on his face, sunshine drifting into the room.

Feel ... comfort and grace and that presence with him still.

Feel ... a mouth pressed against him, tongue delicately probing his nipple, suckling like nature, needing sustenance.

In an instant, Jim was wide awake - and hard. Very hard. He hardly dared open his eyes. He wanted to feel this a moment longer, wanted to remember what it felt like because he knew, just knew that Blair was still asleep, was doing this from some memory.

But he had to stop it, couldn't let it go on. He didn't want this, didn't want to be some ghosted memory in the mind of this man. He wanted to be the one who was loved and cherished and nothing, not even pretending, would be enough temptation to take its place. He put his hand on Blair's shoulder and squeezed gently.

The nuzzling stopped but Blair didn't move. He lay half-wrapped around Jim, one leg over him, arm thrown haphazardly towards Jim's shoulder.

But that mouth was still attached to his nipple and after a moment, the tongue moved again, as though Blair had only shifted back into his sleep-driven confusion.

Wanting to scream in frustration, in want and desire and terror - Jim squeezed the shoulder a little harder, determined to wake Blair, to let him know that ...

Blair froze.

Jim wanted to say something then, some off-hand comment to take away the awkwardness of the moment, just in case Blair might be feeling ... well ...

Not for the first time, words failed him. Instead, he just lay there, noting how the pale morning light filtered into this room, how it made new shadows and destroyed older ones, how there were facets to this space he'd never noticed before.

Blair moved - and instantly Jim's eyes were on him. Blair moved and lifted his head. Lifted his head and blinked his eyes until they caught and held Jim's. In this light, the blue was unfathomable, dark and rich.

There was something wrong with the air in this room. How did Blair live with it? How could he breathe this? How could he ...

Blair moved again, shifting closer until ... until ...

Jim closed his eyes. Frozen with fear, he could only listen to his own heartbeat, too terrified to listen to Blair's.

No. He couldn't do this again. He couldn't let his own needs overpower his good sense, couldn't open up and reveal ...

Blair's lips brushed against his own, soft, feather-like, suggesting and tempting and playing the devil with him. Determination alone kept him where he was, refusing to take the bait.

"Open your eyes, Jim," Blair whispered.

Caught, entrapped and little more than a slave to that voice, Jim did as he was told - and saw ... saw ...

Heat.

Dear God.

Please don't do this to me.

Don't.

Can't.

Won't.

But he didn't have to. Blair did, instead. His own eyes wide in the pale light, he kept hold of Jim's gaze and moved south again, once more taking the over-sensitised nipple into his mouth.

Jim clenched his teeth, grabbed a fistful of sheeting and held in a prayer for mercy. Blair paid no attention to his silent plea and instead, fastened his teeth, ever so gently, to the hardened nub. With deliberate care, he nipped once, hard. The pain twisted with the pleasure, and it took all of Jim's strength to stop himself arching up for more.

Yes, more, please more.

A flat tongue laved across the surface then, easing and soothing flesh already worked to fever pitch. Then Blair's mouth left the nipple and parts of Jim relaxed, hoping the torture was over.

Hoping it was just beginning.

Hoping.

Blair moved again, his gaze still locked on Jim's, the silence still hanging between them, still there, still full and empty at the same time and Jim knew he had to be giving things away here, had to be opening up in the way that he'd always feared, getting closer and revealing everything in his eyes - but he couldn't shut them, couldn't find words to make Blair stop this, didn't want to know if this was pity or desire and was too afraid, way too afraid to ask.

And he couldn't look away.

Blair moved slowly, drawing down Jim's body, lifting the covers away from them both as he did. No part of him touched Jim now - but that did nothing to still Jim's desire. He could see his own arousal push up into his sweats, right next to Blair's face.

His gaze still steady, Blair braced his weight on his hands, lowered his head, opened his mouth and placed it around the hard flesh hidden by stretched cotton.

Jim cried out. With his whole body. Trembling, sweating, still so terrified, he watched as Blair mouthed him firmly and yet gently. The tongue dipped out, seeking the moist tip of his cock, making the encompassing cloth more wet.

Before Jim could react, Blair's hands stripped the sweats down until his genitals were revealed. His cock sprang up, as though begging, in the way that Jim didn't dare, begging for attention.

Blair looked at him, looked him in the eye - then let his gaze drift down and Jim could see, with his own eyes, the way Blair drank in the sight.

His cock flinched under that lusty scrutiny. Then, as if in slow motion, Blair lowered his head again and flicked out his tongue to taste the drop of moisture forming because of him.

Jim couldn't breathe. He couldn't. Only little fits of his lungs kept any air coming in at all. His hands ached with clutching sheets, his muscles ached with not moving and wanting to but if he did, if he actually moved, what else would he reveal, what else would become exposed to this shining light before him?

No. Terror could not - would not - force him to something he wasn't ready for. Sex had never been so intimate before. Why couldn't he contain it now? Why couldn't he stop it from leaking out through his eyes, his body ... his treacherous body.

Poised in that place between light and dark, he could do nothing either way, nothing to flee, nothing to stop the man with him opening his mouth and taking Jim's cock into that moist, heated cavern, drawing him into pleasure he'd only ever dreamed about. His body reacted with a violent tremor, fresh sweat breaking out all over him.

The moan which reached his ears, came from Blair. The vibrations scattered up Jim's belly, leaving a trail of fire behind. Shivering now, as though they lay in sub-zero temperatures, Jim watched as that pink tongue lapped at him, felt his cock, got to know it - intimately.

Jim rushed to the edge, hung there, desperate to fall, desperate to cling on. Never before in his life had he felt something this good, this wanted, this needed, this desired and his battered soul screamed at him from the inside to let it go, to open up and just let it go...

Blair sucked. Once. Hard. With a strangled cry, Jim's body betrayed him completely and he came, shooting deep into a mouth which took his gift and swallowed, milking him. Wave after wave of agony swept through him but his eyes could see nothing but the man sucking his cock until it was dry.

Dizzy, hitching in air, he watched as Blair licked the last drops away, licked his own lips, satisfied - then glanced back up to meet Jim's gaze.

For long moments that might have been hours or days - Blair stayed there, crouched over Jim's groin, a look of nothing on his face, nothing Jim could recognize because, really, they'd never been in this place before, had they, never done this willingly, deliberately and without desperation and dire need.

But was this free of those things - even if it was slow? Was there such a thing as slow urgency?

Again Blair moved - but this time, the gestures were more complex. With one hand he reached behind where Jim could see -while the other hand gently pushed Jim's hip, rolling him to his side.

Like a creature without will, Jim allowed his body to be ruled by a greater force. The cool touch, when it came, was welcome. He was already too hot - especially there. Especially in that place he'd kept secret even from himself.

Blair's touch was gentle however, easing his hand into the crack of Jim's ass, caressing, determined and yet sure.

Jim moved. Just a little. He had that power now, to move. Just enough to give Blair more access. He felt so many things at once. Felt a hand smooth his thigh as it pushed his legs further apart, felt soft kisses trail down his spine, felt a single finger press at his hole, slick with something he could scent but not identify.

The finger entered him and he relaxed. This was easy. He could do this. This was not his desire but Blair's. He would reveal nothing with this act. He was safe.

More kisses peppered his shoulders and again he could move, pushing back a little to take more of that finger. Allowing, letting, giving permission. He felt the walls of his passage stretch a little, and then more as Blair inserted another slick finger.

He moaned. He couldn't help it. Having Blair this close, actually inside him, wanting more, revealing his own soul, being intimate with Jim in a way he'd only ever been with other men - this was so good, so wonderful and yes, he could do this, could let Blair do this to him, wanted Blair to do this to him, to take him.

Enter him. Penetrate his body the way the man had already penetrated his life, his soul.

Yes.

Please.

Gentle teeth latched onto his shoulder as a third finger was pushed into him. Jim rolled onto his stomach, spreading his legs wide, feeling Blair kneel between them. He could smell more of the gel and knew it would be soon, wanted it to be soon because he was hard, so hard just thinking about this, thinking of what Blair was about to do to him, that their coupling would reveal to him something of Blair he'd never been allowed to see before and he wished he could see it, wished he could turn so he tried to, tried to glance over his shoulder but what he saw almost made him come.

Somehow, Blair had removed his clothes. Naked, holding his weight up with one hand, Blair knelt over him, ready to guide his heavy cock, that beautiful heavy cock, into Jim's opening. As though he knew he was being watched, Blair looked up and in that moment, entered Jim.

With a hard gasp, Jim pushed his upper body off the bed, determined to see this, twisting his head around until it hurt but there was no other pain, nothing but the feeling of Blair inside him, his cock pushing and pausing, going deeper and deeper, filling Jim and stretching him and taking him, taking his virginity and god, he was going to come if Blair didn't get right inside him soon and then Blair was there, all the way in him, lying down on top of him, holding him close, kissing the back of his neck and too close for Jim to see any more but it didn't matter now because he'd seen what he needed to see, seen the look of wanton desire in Blair's eyes, the desire to be doing this to Jim, to be this close to him, to be giving and receiving the pleasure of this sodomy.

Only then did he allow himself to listen, for the harsh breathing near his ear, the pounding heartbeat, to smell the thick arousal hanging in the air. Allow himself to absorb all this because this was not just desperation and urgency - this was sex, pure and raw and Blair was taking him properly now, moving in and out of him, sliding that cock, moist and slick, in and out of him, making him shudder, gasp, taking him so close to death and so far away from it and he was crying out now, needing it to last and needing it to end and wishing he could see it end for Blair but feeling it happen anyway.

Blair pounded into him now, pounded against his prostate, gasping his ecstasy with every lunge, pressing him against the bed with every thrust. Jim reached down to grasp his cock where it was crushed against the bed - then felt Blair's hand join his and together they made it happen. Together, they moved and thrust against each other, a rhythm being born of a natural connection, driving them forward into the morning until neither could stand it any longer.

With a sudden, harsh, almost painful jerk, Blair's cock thickened in Jim's ass, flinched and spasmed. Hot, wet splashes of semen filled him and just knowing that it was happening, just knowing it was Blair coming inside him tripped Jim over the edge. His own juices burst out of him, sending lightning through his body, preventing his senses from absorbing any more.

Dimly then, he was aware of Blair slowing and stopping, aware of his own pleasure soaking into the sheets beneath him. Through a cloud of fog, he felt Blair shift a little, gasp in some needed air then shift some more. Carefully, he lifted himself up, withdrawing and leaving a gaping emptiness inside Jim which was quickly filled when Blair landed on the bed next to him, throwing his arms around Jim and snuggling in close.

Once more, Jim was unable to move beyond sliding closer, beyond putting his own arm around that body. Beyond that - lay only sleep.

Blair stood under the shower and washed the evidence away. Or tried to. There was evidence that could never be removed - though invisible to even sentinel senses. This evidence was concrete, infallible and opaque at the same time. His own evidence. Permanent and marked as such.

With a caustic eye, he watched the physical evidence sluice down the drain in an attempt at comfort, to reassure him that he need do no more to cover up his crime. But he was older and wiser now and he knew that the man still asleep in his bed was a detective - and a good one at that.

Soap and shampoo, water and heat. Things that went together as a matter of logic.

What was he going to say?

What would Jim say?

Was he sure? He'd formed no hypothesis before gathering this evidence. No, the evidence lay before him and he would have to play his own cop, draw his own conclusions when there was no more room left for doubt.

But could he trust it? Could he trust his own fallibility? Would Jim?

He turned the water off and climbed out. He shaved, dried his hair and dressed in the clothes he'd brought in with him. His skin felt dry and cold but inside he felt only heat.

Jim woke to familiar noises. Movement in the kitchen, a cup landing on the bench, the fridge being opened.

He sat up. He remembered. He felt.

No pain. Just a mild discomfort if he shifted his weight a certain way. He did it again deliberately, letting the feeling remind him, drawing the memory in and living there for a moment.

But a moment was all he had. Blair came into the room with a mug of coffee in his hand. He sat on the bed beside Jim and offered it to him. Unable to meet that gaze, Jim took it, swallowed carefully then moved to get up.

"Jim?"

"What?"

Blair reached out and put a hand on his arm. The skin felt cool and dry to his touch. "I ... we need to talk about this."

Talk? With words? Open up? Admit? Confess?

No.

Jim kept his gaze firmly on the bed covers, swinging his legs over the other side. "About what?"

"What's wrong?"

"What makes you think something's wrong?"

"You won't look at me."

For the first time in his life, Jim felt a blush creeping across his face as his nakedness glared in daylight at him. Grabbing his discarded sweats, he pulled them on, standing only at the last second with his back to Blair. Then and only then could he turn around.

How could you look something like that in the eye? How could you face it the next morning - or rather, the same morning, knowing what they'd done, what Blair had done to him, had revealed to him ...

He couldn't do it. Yes, he was afraid. Afraid to see what Blair's eyes looked like now, afraid to see if that intimacy was still there - or if it had gone. Basically, he was just afraid.

He headed for the door and the bathroom. "We have to get moving. Simon's expecting us at the station."

"Jim, please," Blair followed him. "We really need to talk. We can't just let last night ... and ... and this morning just ... well, you know ..."

"We'll talk, Chief, but just not now, okay?" Jim was amazed his voice could sound so normal when inside he was cringing. He reached the safety of the bathroom and closed the door. As he stripped off and turned on the water, he stretched his muscles, felt some ache and complain - but he did feel good. Physically. In fact, he felt almost too good.

Thank god he'd not given in, not revealed his own self. Seeing that fire in Blair had been more than enough to scare him into silence.

A whole new world opened up to him when he walked into Cascade PD that morning.

Almost everybody he saw as he travelled through the building either smiled, said something congratulatory or simply clapped him on the shoulder as they passed.

Welcomed back into the fold - as if he'd never left it. Guilty until proven innocent. He was now proven to be trustworthy - so they would trust him again until the next piece of evidence caused them to doubt.

Would it have made a difference if he'd been a cop?

Every chance he got, he snuck a look at Jim - but the bigger man kept to his stony silence, as though nothing of any significance had happened between them that morning, as though they had no cause to celebrate, no losses to mourn. Jim's solid frame accompanied him as usual, square-cut, handsome, clear-eyed and close-mouthed. Granite would have appeared softer.

Jim hadn't said no. He hadn't made any move to stop it. He had, in fact, made moves to encourage it

And he'd enjoyed it - of that, Blair was certain. Nor did Jim move as though he had some physical injury, so no actual harm had been done - at least, not to Jim's body.

So what was it? How many times had he claimed he loved Blair? Was he now regretting it, now that they had finally made love?

As the lift doors opened before them, Jim strode ahead, making Blair hurry to catch up. Then he was engulfed in congratulations and hugs and more pats on the back and for a while everything else was lost in the melee.

There were reports to write, of course. Statements constructed around a truth they could not afford to reveal. But it was done inside an atmosphere of relief and genuine pleasure. He made sure he thanked every one of them, individually, for what they'd done for him, making no mention of how much it meant that they had trusted him - largely because it hadn't made any real sense at the time. It was only now, now that it was all over, that he could really feel it.

There was a foundation here. A rock upon which he could place some of his life - as there had always been. It had just taken something drastic for him to feel it solid beneath his feet.

Naomi had been right - a relationship - with anyone had to, by definition, be based upon trust.

If anybody noticed Jim's mood or his silence, nobody commented upon it. Perhaps they just put it down to contained relief that his partner was cleared or something. Even so, there were more than a few curious glances cast in the direction of Simon's office when the captain called Jim in for a quiet chat. Blair tried to keep his attention on finishing his report - but he did look up in time to see Jim lean over the table and sign something. Then the man was coming out, waving a thumb at Blair to indicate that it was his turn.

With a head ready for anything now, Blair strode into Simon's office and prepared to face the music.

Simon closed the door quietly and firmly. "You want to be a cop, Sandburg?"

"Uh, not really. Why?" He realized the stupidity of the question only after he asked it.

"Usually it's only cops and criminals who carry guns to crime scenes. I was just curious." Curious and sarcastic.

"Look, Simon, I can explain ...."

"You know what?" Simon moved behind his desk and sat, folding his hands together and lifting his face with a typically grim smile. "I spent half of last night wondering what the fuck you thought you were doing - and the other half not wanting to know. Now I've got a pretty good imagination for a cop - so I can work out a lot of it all by myself. But there's another issue here, one which I don't think you've considered - or you wouldn't have pulled that stunt last night."

"And what's that?"

"An issue of trust."

For a moment, Blair wished he'd misheard. He really did - because if he had misheard, he wouldn't have seen pure and absolute red at that remark. But the red had him in its grip and there was no stopping him this time. "Trust?" He snapped, taking a step forward, the blood inside him surging to battle. "Are you kidding me? You - the man who almost immediately assumed I had something to hide, something like murder? Oh, that's rich, Simon, really rich! How dare you! How dare you say you can't trust me now, eh? I'll bet it was you, wasn't it - urging Jim to shoot me last night. Have you any idea what that did to him? Have you? Man, I don't believe you! After everything I've done here, every time I risked my neck for no pay and a lot of insults about my hair and my clothes - after everything I've done you now have the gall to tell me you don't trust me?"

"I never said I didn't trust you, Sandburg," Simon said mildly. "Actually, what I was wondering was why you hadn't trusted me - though I see I have my answer."

Blair pulled up short, hauled in a breath for good measure and put his hands on his hips. "Fine, so explain it to me."

"You didn't tell me about your thesis material."

"That's it?"

"That's it."

"Fuck."

"Whatever you say."

Blair sank to a chair and shook his head, his glance going out to the bullpen where Jim was sitting behind his desk. The man looked so isolated out there, so firmly locked into something he couldn't understand from this distance. "Jim was awake half the night with sensory spikes because he'd thought he'd have to shoot me ... I ..."

"He's in love with you, isn't he?"

"Yes." Blair drew his gaze back to his hands. "Simon, I can't apologize. I won't, okay?"

"I haven't asked you to." With a sigh, Simon sat back. He tossed something onto the desk in front of Blair and said, "For what it's worth, there's your ID. Your status has been fully reinstated. You're free and clear. Holmes is being charged with first degree murder. The Feds found a link between him and a fence, money exchanging hands, some other cases in the past with questionable results etc, etc. They're handling the case. You'll be expected to testify, of course - though if they can beat a confession out of him, you could get lucky."

"Right." Blair breathed, picking up the ID and toying with it in his hands. He glanced up, "What do you mean, for what it's worth?"

"Your partner is taking a leave of absence. I don't know how much time you'd want to spend around here without him."

Blair sat up. "Leave? Why?"

"He just said he had some things to think about. Actually, he arranged it before Nick's body was found - I was supposed to bring the paperwork around when I got the call to bring you in."

Fuck.

Springing to his feet, Blair made for the door, his thoughts only on Jim - but Simon stopped him.

"One last thing - now the investigation is over, Nick's body is being released for burial. His family have claimed the body. I understand the funeral is tomorrow. They said you're welcome to attend if you want to."

Want to? Did he?

But he couldn't think about that right now. He had to think about Jim. He had to. "Yeah, okay, thanks. I might." Then he was out the door and making for Jim's desk.

The older man didn't look up but instead, concentrated on signing his name to the bottom of his own statement. He shoved it into a file and got to his feet. "Ready to go?"

"Jim, what's going on?"

"Not now." A short shake of his head and Jim came around his desk, file in hand. He dropped it in front of Rafe as he passed, again making Blair hurry to follow him. Blair caught up but kept his silence, all the way down in the lift, all the way to the truck. He held it in until they got inside, until Jim turned the ignition and began to pull out.

"Jim, you have to tell me what's going on."

Jim sighed, "Can't you wait until we get home?"

"Will you tell me then?"

"Does everything have to be a fight with you?"

That took the wind out of Blair's sails. He wanted to insist but instead, settled on his seat and kept his gaze out of the window. "I don't want to fight with you."

"Good."

And that's all Jim said.

He'd always been impatient. Impatient in a kind of patient way. There and yet not, hovering between places like a pendulum swinging with indecision. He'd been that way from the first, that very first day in the hospital, cutting through all the medical hype and hitting straight for the home run.

Dr McKay. The Gaelic pronunciation. Too impatient to check the stolen name tag properly, too patient to rattle off all the required data on that first meeting.

Such impatience could also be called enthusiasm - at least, Jim had heard Blair referred to in that manner on more than one occasion. More than once, the anthropologist's life had been in danger simply because of that one character flaw.

But how much of it was a flaw - and how much of it was Jim's own fear of what Blair might discover?

He didn't dare talk. He didn't dare have that conversation with the man - because it was too terrifying to contemplate, too hard to imagine climbing over the barrier. It sat within him, hard and solid and unbreakable. He'd glimpsed over it, seen what he'd always known would be there, and shrank back.

No, he wasn't proud of it, was thoroughly ashamed that, after all these years, he could finally understand what had driven Carolyn away - and all the others before and after her. And no, it didn't do him any good to see that he would drive Blair away for the same reasons.

If he was in Blair's shoes, he'd walk away and think himself lucky to have escaped so cheaply.

Blair put coffee on as soon as he got in the door. He did it for good reasons. He needed something to do that didn't require he look at Jim - and he needed the caffeine.

Actually, what he really needed was an explanation - but he knew he wasn't going to get one.

Ever.

All through the drive home, he'd examined his options. He could ignore the whole thing, let it fester and rot over the next few days or perhaps, weeks and wait until it could explode again. Not a first choice.

Or, he could badger Jim until the man rebelled against the intrusion - thereby alienating him even further. Not much of a choice at all, really.

He could try affection and closeness - but there was something about the way Jim moved that warned him off.

So he made coffee and retired to his room, closing the door gently so it wouldn't sound like a statement of any kind. Then he sat on his bed, knees drawn up, coffee balanced on one and tried to open up a few other options.

He was tired. Sure, he'd slept a little - but then they'd woken early and exhausted themselves all over again so what rest he'd had was sadly lacking in substance.

But maybe that was it. Maybe Jim was just tired as well. Maybe they'd both been to hell and back over the last week and maybe it was time for some time out.

And maybe he should just go in and have his say. Jim didn't have to respond - but perhaps listening would make a difference.

No, if Jim didn't want to hear it, he'd just walk out.

So - what?

He gazed at the room around him, at the things that had been packed and unpacked twice so recently. Did he really live here any more - or was he just marking time?

Time.

Yeah.

Putting his coffee down, he got up and hauled out his backpack. Keeping his movements as quiet as possible, he took out clothes, shoes, the books he needed, all the essentials. His last week's classes were being covered and then there was the spring break. He would have another two weeks off after that before he had to come back to Cascade. Perhaps by then, Jim would have had some time and space to think and maybe then they could talk without hurting each other.

It didn't take him long to pack. With steady hands, he zipped everything closed, took a deep breath and opened his door. He carried his pack through to the front door and left it standing against the wall. He then moved quickly into the bathroom, collecting together his things before taking them back to his pack - but pulled up short for the second time that day when he found Jim standing there, staring down at it.

Not once, since they'd made love that morning, had Jim looked him in the eye. Now he did - but so briefly, Blair almost missed it. Then, without a word, Jim turned on his heel and strode to the balcony window, shoving his hands in his pockets.

Silence filled the loft for a few minutes once Blair had finished packing the last of his things. When he straightened up, he picked up his keys and turned to Jim. He had to say something, but the only words he could think of would only sound like a recrimination - and that was the last thing he wanted.

But Jim spoke for him. "Is this a threat?"

"No. Why would I ..."

"To make me talk."

"No, it's not a threat. I'm going because you don't want to talk and I don't want to make you. Trust me, it's better this way."

"Better than what?"

"Jim," Blair struggled, "I don't know what you want me to say. Neither of us can live like this. You know that. What did you expect would happen?"

"I don't know. I just ... you ... Hell, Chief, can't you just give me some time?"

Blair took a step forward, "That's exactly what I'm giving you. Time."

"You're running away."

"From what?"

Jim only shrugged, turning his head to gaze out at the view - though Blair knew he was seeing none of it.

Feeling the weight of too many hard weeks behind him, Blair moved closer, trying to ignore how Jim tensed at his approach. Swallowing down his hurt, he spoke quietly, "Jim, I have to go. It's the only way we have a hope of salvaging anything from this. I ..." He paused, choosing his words carefully, "if this morning was a mistake then please, just tell me."

"A mistake?" Confusion was evident in Jim's voice, making Blair take one more step closer.

"If it wasn't what you wanted, you know ... I ..."

"Nothing happened this morning."

"Jim," Blair's voice hardened, the last weeks edging into him with sharp claws, breaking down his resolve, "you know very well what happened this morning."

"Do I?"

"Yeah," Blair grunted, perversely taking the blunt route after all. "I fucked you. Are you honestly going to tell me you can't still feel how my cock filled you?"

Jim flinched. He closed his eyes and shook his head, his jaw clenched shut, determining to say nothing more.

Blair couldn't do this any more - because if he did, he'd start saying things he hated and didn't mean and there'd already been enough of that between them. Instead, he just turned and headed for the door.

"Don't."

He ignored the word and grabbed his jacket.

"Don't." Jim said again. "Stay."

"No. I'm not going to stay and listen to you deny what happened between us this morning," Blair sucked in a breath because some horrible things were happening inside him and tears were going to be the inevitable result. He was already too raw and yes, this morning had been a huge mistake or maybe the mistake was in not seeing what he was doing sooner, not seeing how he felt, not understanding how he'd been looking everywhere else for something when he'd had it all along, right here, in this man.

Only now he had nothing.

He blinked moisture from his eyes and pushed his arms into his jacket.

"Stay." Jim said again, more firmly this time - but this time, Blair didn't bother responding. He just stepped to his backpack and lifted the straps, ready to carry it downstairs. He had no idea where he was going but right now, just getting in the car and driving sounded like a great idea. Driving and never coming back.

How could Jim think that nothing had happened this morning? Nothing important? Hadn't he seen? Hadn't he looked? Hadn't he noticed what Blair knew he'd been showing in his eyes, his face, his actions? Was the man so damned stupid he couldn't tell ...

Jim slammed him up against the door, holding him there with strong, determined hands, "Stay."

Blair struggled but Jim had him. "Let me go ... please ..."

Christ, this was pathetic - yeah, he was fucking well crying now and there was nothing he could do to stop it. Damned idiotic tears streaming down his face as though a dam had burst inside him. All the tears he hadn't allowed himself over the last few weeks, the last few days, tears for Nick and death and trust and betrayal. But none of it mattered to Jim. None of it. Jim just held him where he was, hands on Blair's shoulders, face tilted downwards, voice softly repeating, "Stay."

With a cry, Blair swept his arms around Jim's neck and held on, burying his face against that shoulder and feeling arms enclose him tightly, holding him, just holding on, keeping him close, being someone to hold onto, some one to be there.

Right where he'd always been, this good friend, all through this farce, from start to finish.

Blair squeezed his eyes shut, gulping in air, hoping the tears would die, that he could kill them off - but it hurt. All of it hurt so badly and it felt like it was going to hurt forever.

"I'm sorry," Jim whispered. "I thought this morning was ... I love you, Blair and I loved it this morning but I just don't know ... I'm sorry, but I don't think I'm what you need, okay? I don't think I can give you what you need."

"Are you ..." Blair steadied his voice a little, "Are you saying that's it? That it's over?" More tears threatened but he held on, held on for sanity's sake.

"I don't know, Blair, I just don't know. What you did this morning was ... what I saw ... I ..."

Blair lifted his head, tried to see Jim's eyes - but they avoided him. "What did you see?" Was it the sex? Was it the act that bothered him - or was it something else?

No, Jim had never once shrunk away from the sex. It had always been the other things he'd had difficulty with.

"The sex was ... too much and ... not enough. I ... wanted to touch you but I was afraid ... because I ..."

And there was the other, final, last and only option. Clear before him, it stood, waiting for his courage to catch up. "Jim?" Blair said without moving, "Make love to me."

"Blair, please ..."

Swiftly, Blair reached behind him to where Jim's arms encircled his back. He took those hands in his and moved them down to rest on his ass. "Make love to me."

"No. I ..."

"Make love to me," Blair said more gently, touching a kiss to Jim's jaw. "Take me." Another soft kiss. "Trust me."

Jim's head lifted and at last he met Blair's gaze, "Trust you?"

"Yeah."

Jim said nothing to that - but he also didn't pull away. Blair felt those hand on his ass, hot and close and he knew how this had to go. Jim wasn't afraid of the act itself - he was afraid of wanting it, needing it, desiring it - and everything else they could have together. He was afraid of the intimacy deliberately making love would generate between them, afraid of how Blair would see him afterwards, afraid of how he would see himself. Afraid of having that self rejected.

But it was too late for that. Blair had already seen everything he needed to see. He knew - and he knew Jim was exactly what he wanted.

Risking a small smile, he pressed those hands against his ass for a brief moment, then stepped back. "Stay here."

He moved into his bedroom quickly and retrieved the tube of lubricant before returning to Jim. The man had tracked his every step and now watched him with trepidation. Blair glanced at him and continued on, taking the stairs slowly, giving Jim time to make his decision. When he got up there, he began undressing, taking his clothes off and tossing them on the back of the chair. Naked, he pulled the covers back from the bed and lay down.

At the first footstep, his stomach twisted with anticipation. Then Jim was slowly climbing upwards until he stopped at the top. Blair felt eyes raking over him and instantly hardened. Without a qualm, he reached down and caressed himself, stroking his erection lazily, enjoying the touch of his own hand. He could almost feel the heat from Jim's body. He turned his head and beckoned with his free hand, "Come on, sit down."

Jim swallowed and moved closer, sitting on the side of the bed so he could still watch. Blair reached for him but Jim shook his head, "Don't stop."

"Take your clothes off, then? Let me see you naked, properly?"

Jim pulled his shirt off over his head, his eyes returning to Blair, to the hand stroking his cock, to his lips and mouth, to his chest, everywhere. His eyes burned with want and need and simply seeing it swept away all the sadness in Blair's heart. If only he could reach into Jim now, and let him see that this was beautiful.

Jim stood and removed his jeans, kicking off shoes and socks, leaving only his boxers. Blair let his own gaze rove over the exquisite body before him, for the very first time, allowing himself to feel the desire he'd suppressed for so long. Jim was perfect, in every line and curve and Blair wanted him very, very badly. His eyes strayed to the last item of clothing, "Take them off. I want to see you."

With a nod, Jim pushed his boxers down and kicked them away, straightening up to reveal a tough, hard erection of his own. Blair couldn't take his eyes off it as he continued to stroke his own cock. Jim was pretty big - but in perfect proportion to the rest of his body. Blair had tasted him this morning and wanted to again now - but this was so delicately balanced, he didn't want to risk an early release. They might never get to this point again.

He shifted over on the bed, to give Jim some room. "Sit down here and touch yourself."

As though in a daze, Jim sat, his right hand enclosing his own cock, his left taking his weight as he leaned closer, still watching what Blair was doing.

God, the sight of Jim doing that was ... incredible ... and Blair had to force his own hand to slow or he would come way too soon. Instead, he watched Jim's fingers slide up and down the thick shaft, playing with the head, squeezing a little, idly at first, then more seriously, the movements speeding up as his breath caught. Hot beyond imagining, Blair glanced up to find Jim's eyes on his. Jim was feeling it too now, feeling how good it was to watch and be watched like this. To see these things in eyes engulfed in the same desire.

Blair snatched his hand away from his cock. He was too close. He sat up and knelt before Jim. "Lie down, will you?"

Jim lay down, his hand once again playing idly rather than seriously. His gaze never left Blair's.

Within that gaze was a wall of trust and Blair held on to that, held it like hope before him.

Turning so he was in profile to Jim, he grabbed the lube and opened it. He spread some on his fingers and reached around to prepare himself. Instantly, he felt the bed move as Jim shifted closer, his lips brushing against the soft flesh of Blair's ass. But he didn't touch, didn't help. He just watched as Blair pushed a finger into himself.

God, he was so turned on, he had no idea how long he would last. But he kept going, easing his opening loose a little before removing his finger to coat a second with lube. Jim was there before he could pick up the tube, squeezing out enough and smearing it over Blair's fingers. Once more, Blair put his hand back, stretching now and easing them into himself. Two felt good, the familiar tightness of his own hole urging him on. Without realizing it, he began to move up and down, fucking himself on his own fingers.

When Jim kissed his ass again, he almost came - but the kiss was followed by a small bite and the tiny pain was just enough to draw back from the dangerous edge. By the time he removed his fingers for more lube, Jim had it ready, keeping hold of it as Blair pushed three fingers inside himself. Jim's hands immediately touched him, holding his cheeks apart and again, Blair almost came right then, knowing how close Jim was watching this invasion of his body.

More moist kisses lapped across his skin, moving closer to his crack, tongue laving hot and desperate flesh. Frantically, Blair used his other hand on himself, to squeeze below his balls, to head off the impending climax. He had to hold on, had to wait, had to have Jim inside him.

"Chief, I ..."

"What, Jim?"

"I ..."

"You want me, don't you? Want to fuck me?"

"God, yes!"

"Then do me."

The words were barely out when Jim's mouth sucked soft flesh in hard, hard enough to leave a mark. Blair rose up a little, feeling scorching fire rock through him. He was trembling and gasping now - but he had no time to worry about it. Jim grabbed his hand, urging the fingers out and pulling Blair down onto the bed. Instantly, Jim covered his body with his own, holding his head still with strong hands. For a moment, neither of them moved and then Jim was kissing him, deeply, deliberately and without reservation.

From nowhere, a memory flashed into him, of another night, when he'd been hurt and wounded inside and this mouth had taken his, devouring and tasting sweet even though he'd not remembered afterwards.

He remembered now.

His thoughts that night had never been about Nick.

Jim began to thrust against him, no longer able to control much at all. Blair would have protested but Jim's mouth left his then and travelled south, kissing and licking and leaving a cascade of fire trembling in his wake. Down and down he went until, without pausing, he took the head of Blair's cock in his mouth. He sucked a little, licked and sucked again, forcing Blair to use every trick he'd ever learned to stop himself from coming. He wanted them to come together.

"Please, Jim, please, take me. I want you inside me, please."

He spread his legs, leaving room for Jim, making the offer, hoping, trusting that it would be accepted.

Without a word, Jim knelt between his legs, lifted them and dived down to the hot place between them. He nibbled and sucked Blair's balls, letting his tongue roam further until it encountered the needy hole, moist and ready for him. There he paused, simply looking - and then looking back up at Blair.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, "I have to ..." But there were no more words then. Jim simply positioned himself and slid into Blair in one swift stroke.

With a cry of delight, of swimming pleasure flooding through him, Blair pulled Jim close, wrapping his legs around the man's waist, feeling the first slow thrust in and out, riding the wave, feeling the heady joy of copulation with this man, feeling that cock go deeper. Jim filled him so perfectly, the way he'd always wanted to be filled and he let Jim know with desperate kisses to nipples so close to his mouth. In response, Jim dived down for proper kisses, short and wet, tongue lapping for more, for taste and air and then down further, to nip and suck marks onto his throat. He would be covered in bruises tomorrow but he wanted to be, wanted to be marked and taken and for it to be obvious every time he looked at himself in a mirror.

And then Jim was above him again, still thrusting slowly, angling to brush against that spot inside him, his eyes lighting up when Blair reacted, when Blair arched up and met his thrusts, when Blair trembled and whimpered. The speed increased, and it was so sweet, so very sweet that Blair reached up and took Jim's face between his hands, murmured words directly from the heart, "You are so beautiful, Jim, so beautiful like this. I love you making love to me. I love you."

Jim's eyes widened in surprise, and his movements came to a halt. For a moment, Blair worried that he'd said the wrong thing - but then those pale eyes slid over this face, opening and revealing a depth he'd never seen before, raw and wonderful. Jim leaned down, placed a single kiss on Blair's lips and then resumed his moments, thrusting low and hard, almost grinding his cock into Blair. The change set Blair shivering uncontrollably as he kept his gaze on Jim's. Both panting now, Blair lifted his head, to get closer, ever closer, the heat building and building until he cried out.

"Oh, god!"

Jim thrust once more, hard and Blair felt him coming, felt the big hand around his own cock pump twice and felt the blazing heat of completion sear through him, through them both. Hard and fast it hit them, blinding and powerful, seeming to last forever until Jim sank down again, holding Blair tightly, kissing him deeply, loving him permanently.

It took some time for them to regain breath, to clear dizzy heads, until Blair could afford to open his eyes again and trust he would see something other than stars. It was, after all, the middle of the afternoon. Jim lifted some weight off him but stayed close, taking one more brief kiss.

"I ... I don't want to move." Jim murmured.

"No?" Blair wanted to laugh more than anything else right now. Laugh for no reason whatsoever.

"Don't want to leave you."

"Oh."

"No. Want to stay right here."

"Inside me?"

"Yeah," Jim gave him a small grin, almost secretive, "Inside you."

"Well, that's fine with me - but when you fall asleep, I'm going to suffocate, that's all."

"Then I won't go to sleep."

"Right." Blair smiled then and watched Jim fake an aggrieved sigh before gently and carefully withdrawing. Again, he didn't go far. He just laid down on top of Blair, gathered him close and rolled them both to their sides. More minutes were lost in perfectly sensuous kisses before the euphoria finally began to subside a little.

Only a little.

"Chief?"

"Yeah?" Having this kind of conversation was ridiculous, really. Their faces were all of two inches away from each other.

"I have something to tell you."

"Oh?"

"I'm gay."

Blair opened his eyes wide, searching Jim's. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah. I am."

"Really sure?"

"Yeah. I like fucking guys - and I liked being fucked by guys."

"Guys?"

"Well, okay, one guy. But I still like it."

"Well, that's a good sign - but what about women?"

"What about them?"

"Jim, did you take something when I wasn't looking?"

"When weren't you looking?"

"That's a good point."

"Thank you. There's just one other thing."

"What's that?"

"You're gay, too."

"Jim, I'm bi - you know that."

"Not any more, you're not."

"Ah, I see."

"Sure?"

"Oh, yeah, I see exactly and yes, you're right - I am gay."

"Good. Just so we've got things ... er ... straight."

"Wouldn't want them to get bent out of shape."

"Well, it would sound a little queer, now wouldn't it?"

Blair opened his mouth to add another dreadful pun - but Jim kissed him then, slowly, gently and with every meaning he could add. When it was over, Jim lay on his back, pulling Blair to rest on him, sighing deeply. For long minutes, Blair just let the silence take them, basking in it and giving them time. Time Jim, in particular, seemed to need.

He felt the bigger man take in a deep breath, "Blair, what you said?"

"Yeah?" Somber now, Blair waited, not allowing himself to tense up at the change of tone.

"You meant it, didn't you?"

"Yes."

"So ... do you think ... we can ..."

"I do. If you want to. If you want to try."

"Do you?"

Blair took a moment - not to think about his answer, because he already knew that, but to just remember, to just mark the moment - it was important to do this because in a moment, it would be gone. "Yes, Jim. I want you and you want me. But you know, don't you, that this isn't going to make everything ..."

"Yeah," he could feel Jim's nod, "I know. It isn't easy for me, okay?"

"I know."

"I just want you to understand that going in. I mean, I'll try - but it still scares me, this intimacy thing. I think though that maybe it doesn't scare me as much as it did. I do want to give you what you need - but until I feel like I'm getting somewhere with it, I'll always be afraid I'll fail. I've always failed before. But maybe it's you ... I don't know. Maybe ..."

"Jim, love?"

"What?"

"You've always given me what I need."

Another silence greeted this, ended when Jim twisted round to face him, eyes narrowed and hesitant, "Are you sure?"

Blair smiled, "Yeah. Trust me."

At that, Jim nodded slowly and gave him a smile back, a lovely, warm smile of promised summer and long Sundays in bed. "Listen, we've both got some time off - why don't we go away for a while. Somewhere nice."

"Somewhere warm?" Blair added hopefully.

Jim chuckled, kissed his chin and nodded, "Isn't this warm enough for you?" Jim let his hand wander down Blair's back, brushing over his ass as a deliberate reminder.

"Jim, even we can't spend every minute of every day in bed."

"Perhaps not - but it might be fun to try it out."

Blair was in danger of laughing out loud. He bit his lip to discourage the temptation. "I'd love to go away for a while."

"And what about tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow?"

"Nick's funeral. You want to go?"

Blair lifted his head until he could look Jim in the eye. "Would you mind if I said yes?"

"No. I'll go with you ... unless ..."

"No, that'd be nice. Thanks."

"And then afterwards, we can work out where we're going to go, okay?"

"Yeah." Blair settled again, feeling the warmth coming from his sentinel's body. "You know we can't stay like this."

"Why not?"

"Because we'll be stuck together by morning."

"I thought that was the whole point."

Blair giggled, "Well, not the whole point."

Jim laughed softly, turned and kissed him again.

"I love you," Blair whispered when he could, drawing Jim into the veil of intimacy they had always shared.

"I love you," Jim whispered in reply before taking another, longer kiss, moist and sweet. Settling once more, Jim's hands smoothed down Blair's back, a soft caress floating over skin like the play of water. "Thirsty?"

"A little." Blair nodded against Jim's chest.

"Tired?"

"I guess."

"How about I go downstairs, get a damp cloth, glasses and a bottle of wine."

"Sounds like a plan. I don't think I can move right now."

"That good, was it?"

"Oh yeah," Blair breathed this out with every nuance of feeling he could muster from his sated body. Mindblowing sex twice in one day was more than enough to wipe him out.

"Okay, then." Jim couldn't hide the pleased tone in his voice and Blair wondered idly how long it would be before they could do it again. So maybe twice wasn't quite enough to wipe him out. "Right, I'll go get the stuff, then."

"Thanks."

"That's what friends are for."

Those hands remained on his back, skimming lightly, sending frail, delicious shivers over Blair's skin. If he had ever felt more relaxed in his life, he certainly didn't remember it. More relaxed or more safe. And he wasn't sure he had ever seen a smile like that on Jim's face before, either.

"Jim?"

"Yeah?"

"You're still here."

"Uh huh."

Blair smiled, "Okay."

"Yeah."

~ Finis