Just Us
by lamardeuse
Rating:
NC-17
Pairing:
Jim/Blair
Warnings:
m/m sex
~for Kass~
"Jesus, James, what do you think you're—"
The remaining words were cut off as Blair was shoved bodily into
a supply closet down the hall from Major Crimes. Jim had had a burr
up his ass ever since they'd foiled an armed robbery earlier that morning.
Between the trip to the hospital and all of the other cop rigamarole, they
hadn't had a chance to be alone.
Apparently Jim had come up with his own remedy to that problem.
Pitch darkness surrounded Blair like a smothering blanket. "Hey,
you want to turn on the light?"
"Don't need to," was the terse reply. "I can see you just fine."
"Real funny, Jim," Blair muttered. He reached out with his left
hand for the place where he thought the light switch might be—
—only to have his hand engulfed by Jim's. The fingers slithered
over his, then gripped his wrist.
"What—"
Jim tugged at Blair's arm, jerking him forward, and Blair stumbled
willingly into the solid wall of Jim's body. Through Jim's thin shirt,
Blair could feel the heat of Jim's chest, the shift of his ribcage as
he breathed.
"What did you think you were doing?" Jim whispered harshly. "What
the hell did you think you were doing?"
Blair looked up at Jim's face, or at least the place where he figured
Jim's face was. He didn't have to ask what Jim was talking about.
"Being your partner," he answered simply.
When Blair felt the touch of Jim's other hand, it was so gentle as
to be barely perceptible. Blair shivered.
Jim sensed the movement. "Hurts?"
"No," Blair said truthfully. The dressing wasn't much bigger than
a Band-Aid; the robber's bullet had barely drawn blood as it grazed the
flesh of his right bicep. Still, at the time it had hurt like a sonofabitch.
He shivered again at the memory of Jim's animal howl when Blair went
down.
"Don't ever do that again," Jim was saying.
"We're both cops now," Blair countered. "You can't make me stay
in the truck."
"Dammit, I'm not saying you—" Jim took a deep, calming breath. "Just—I
don't want you taking a bullet for me."
"I'm going to try not to. But I can't say for sure that it'll never
happen."
"Blair, goddammit—"
"You would for me."
Another deep breath. Sounds were beginning to amplify in Blair's
ears. "I want you to promise me."
Blair shook his head, knowing Jim would see it.
"Promise me." A growl.
"I can't, Jim. You know I can't."
Suddenly, he was being shoved back and away. His back hit the door
with a resounding thud.
"You—"
Jim's mouth silenced him right before Jim's hands reached for the
buttons of his shirt. Blair leaned into the kiss, opening himself to the
onslaught.
Because when Jim got like this, the only way to weather the storm
was to walk right out into the middle of it and dare the lightning to strike.
Within seconds Blair was panting and trembling and well on his way
to being naked—or rather just naked enough. Jim's lips and teeth and
tongue mapped Blair's body, gliding over his collarbone, tasting a nipple,
seeking purchase in the taut flesh of his stomach. He heard a small noise
and realized Jim's overeager fingers were fumbling over the belt of his
jeans; he stilled Jim's hands with his own and set about the task.
He felt Jim's hot breath on the exposed skin of his cock and every
nerve ending in his body sang with the realization that he was here,
that he was alive, that Jim was whole and real and his, and for
about the millionth time it occurred to him that he was so fucking grateful
for every minute, every second of this.
When Jim swallowed him down, Blair braced himself against the door,
his hands stroking through the incredible softness of Jim's hair, his
lips mouthing near-silent secrets that only his lover would hear.
No promises, Blair told him. Just us.
End
May 2004
send feedback
leave
a comment on my livejournal
Back to Sentinel Fiction