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Blair said, "Oh, oh, oh my god, oh shit, oh!" His respiration was rapid, his heart rate erratic, and there was a smell -- oh. Jim blushed. Took a very deep breath, held it for a few seconds, and then turned his attention back to the movie he was no longer interested in.
Turned up the volume a tiny bit.
Took a drink of his tangerine juice; whoa, that stuff was bitter, but Blair had got him hooked on it, and the season was so short.
Then gave up and focused his hearing and smell back into Blair's small room. What the hell was he doing now? Wiping himself off? Sighing heavily. Heh. A little fart. Jim smiled.
Well. That was interesting.
Staring at the ceiling, Jim let his hearing sink into the room beneath his. Just quiet, regular breaths. Low heart rate. Definitely asleep.
He rolled onto his stomach, pressing his filling dick into the firm mattress; the soft cotton sheets felt good against it, a gentle pulling friction as he let himself build into the sensations. Oh, Jesus.
A sudden thump, "Ow!" What the hell? He jumped out of his most comfortable bed, pulled on a robe, and ran down the stairs, two steps at a time. "Sandburg? Sandburg!" Flinging open the door, he found his roommate sitting on the floor next to his rumpled bed.
"Sorry, man," he said, rubbing his knee. "Fell outta bed."
Jim shook his head but couldn't stop the smile bubbling to the surface. "Oh for god's sake, Sandburg." He helped him up, got him back into bed. "I swear I'm gonna get you a crib."
Blair smacked at Jim's hands as they smoothed the sheets around him. "Go to bed, Jim." He stared sternly up into Jim's face, who blushed, having the unreasonable notion that Blair knew what he'd been doing upstairs.
"It's an early morning, Chief," he reminded him, backing out the door.
"Yeah, yeah," he heard Blair mumble as he rolled himself up like a burrito.
"What is that *smell*?" Jim asked as soon as he stepped into Blair's office. He wrinkled his nose and sniffed, then suddenly recognized it. He looked at his friend in surprise.
"Well? What is it? Did something spoil?" Blair began to open his desk drawers. "Did I leave food in here or something?"
"Uh, no. Not food." Jim glanced surreptitiously into the wastebasket, but all he could see was wadded up kleenex. Blair didn't have a cold or allergies.
"Never mind. It's fading. Maybe I imagined it."
Blair stared at him. "No way."
"Way, Junior."
"'Way'? You never say 'way.'"
"I just did, didn't I? Forget it; come on, we're late."
Jim leaned closer to Blair. The line into the newest Star Wars movie was enormous; they were going to end up sitting in the front row, with stiff necks for a week, he just knew it. But the crush made it easy for him to step right against Blair, lean into his delicious body heat and smell his unique scent.
"You're sniffing," Blair whispered to him.
"I am not."
"You are. You're sniffing *me*."
"You smell good."
"So you admit that you're sniffing."
Well, shit. He'd put his foot in that. "I was just sniffing and your body odor is there."
Blair twisted back to look up into Jim's face. "I have body odor?"
"Everybody has."
"B.O.?"
"No, not like that. Just. A scent. An aroma."
"Like coffee?"
Jim frowned, but answered him seriously. "Yeah, a little. And that peppermint tea you have before you go to bed. And Tom's toothpaste. And, uh, tomatoes? Tomato sauce. Not too much garlic, some basil," he sniffed deeply, "and sour dough bread. Sour sour dough."
Blair put his hand up to Jim's face, who obligingly sniffed it, too. "Ink. Old books, kinda musty." He closed his eyes. "A woman's perfume. An older woman's; it's Chanel. That Neutrogena hand lotion you buy us." The hand was close enough to Jim's face that he could kiss it; instead, he grasped it with his own and pressed it to his face. "Me. You smell a little like me."
He opened his eyes. Blair's mouth was slightly open, his eyes wide with some emotion Jim couldn't readily identify. "You are incredible."
Jim realized he was still holding Blair's hand, right in that enormous line. He squeezed it lightly and let it go. "You're the teacher; I'm just the student," he said, and gently pushed Blair a little closer to the box office.
"My best student, ever," Blair said proudly, and pulled out his wallet.
"Unh-unh, Chief. This is my treat."
"You're gonna hate it, Jim. At least let me pay for it."
"How do you know I'm going to hate it?"
"Aren't you?"
"Well, yeah, but," but Blair was laughing by then, and so Jim did, too.
"Oh, Jesus," he heard, and sat straight up in bed. Shit. Blair was masturbating again. "Oooooh," he moaned. Jim moaned a bit himself. "Jiiiiim," he next heard, and got an erection more promptly than he had in half a decade. He stared down at himself, impressed. "Pleeeeease," Blair whispered, and Jim lay back down in bed. Okay. He was gonna go with this.
Carefully he placed his hand over his hot and pulsing penis, pretending it was Blair's hand there. As big as his, a little more callused at the fingertips. He tried to picture Blair's hand in his lap, but it was impossible. He pulled his hand away and just lay there, listening. Smelling. Feeling the heat roil up right through the floor. "Fuck," he heard. "Yes," he heard. "Now, now, now," he heard, and then all was silent.
Jim's bed was damp now, but as punishment, he decided to sleep in it anyway. Besides, it was too embarrassing to change the sheets right now. Blair would hear. Blair would know.
"Jim." He looked around the breakroom, but didn't see Blair. He could hear his heart, though; he seemed to be a couple floors down. In Records, maybe. Was he talking to someone about Jim?
"Jim, I know you can hear me." Jim gave up looking through the files he'd piled on the long table and started paying attention to his friend. "Jim. I know you hear me at night. I know what you want. What don't you come to me? Why can't you ask me? Listen to me, Jim. I'm right here. I'm here for you, I'm here for *you*."
Nothing more. The heart beat was getting fainter; he was leaving. Back to school. Jesus, had he come to the station just for that?
Jim swallowed and took a breath, something he'd forgotten to do for a few minutes. Maybe tonight.
Jim stood in front of Colette's, staring up at the windows to the loft. He could hear his friend in there. Cooking? Making tea; he could smell the peppermint.
He started when he heard Blair's voice, as if inside his ear. "I know you're down there. I'm sorry if this isn't what you want, but I'm pretty sure it is. Come up, Jim. I know what you need."
Jim swallowed and looked around, worried for a moment that someone else might have heard and understood the nature of Blair's invitation. He opened the door, and heard Blair again. "Jim. I love you, Jim." He followed the voice up the stairs, foregoing the elevator, heading straight to that voice.
The door was open and Blair stood half-in, half-out, waiting for him. "Oh, my god," Jim murmured, and pulled him into his arms. They embraced for a long moment, right there in the hallway. "How did you know? I'm the one who can hear."
"But I pay attention," Blair whispered into Jim's mouth just before kissing him. Jim opened his mouth to the sensation; how long since he'd kissed someone? How long since he'd kissed someone he loved?
A door opened behind him: Mrs. Becker. Oh. But he continued to kiss his partner, even moaned a bit and leaned into Blair's strong embrace. He heard Mrs. Becker sigh and softly shut the door. Only then did he pull back and look at his partner.
Blair's face was flushed, his lips parted and moist, his eyes half-closed in pleasure and arousal. Jim could smell him, a high and heady scent that filled his nose and, he realized, his cock. He kissed Blair's face, and then gently pushed him into the apartment, closing the door behind him.
This was what he'd been waiting for. All those years, and here it was.
Jim sat up as if poked. Simon looked crossly at him but refrained from asking what happened. Joel said quietly, "You okay?" Jim nodded absently.
From the men's room in the lobby of the station he could hear Blair. Locked in a stall, Jim hoped, moaning while he masturbated, whispering Jim's name. The breathless sighs pulled Jim more surely than gravity. In the Major Crimes conference room, detectives hunched over the long battered table, now covered with handouts from the team-building workshop they were being forced to attend. Jim tried to focus on the perky young woman facilitating the workshop; her breasts were notable and should have been able to keep his attention. Instead, he found himself practically cross-eyed from the effort of listening to Blair seven floors below.
He could actually hear the slap of skin against skin. Jesus, he could feel the heat from Blair's arousal. Oh my god, oh my god, Jim stood up abruptly, almost knocking his chair over; Joel caught and righted it. "Excuse me," he said hoarsely, "I, I'm, excuse me," and he threaded his way past Simon, who was glaring at him, and Rafe, who stared up at him in concern, and Henri, who smirked at him knowingly, then down the hall and around the corner to the elevator.
No, too slow; he detoured and took the stairs, Jesus, he was getting in good shape chasing Blair's orgasms, and even in the stairwell he could hear Blair panting, his breath catching, vibrating in his ears. Then he burst into the lobby and raced toward the men's room; people would think he had explosive diarrhea but who cared, who gave a shit, eh, he laughed at his own joke, he laughed in pleasure as he burst into the handicapped stall where Blair had thoughtfully ensconced himself giving Jim plenty of room to fall to his knees, ow, too hard, and open his mouth and suck Blair's cock down his throat just in time, just in time for the delicious explosion and he pulled Blair down right on top of him, his pants around his knees, and Jim reached around and obscenely thrust his index finger up Blair's delicious ass, "Yes!"
And by god he should spank that devil, but no, no, not this one, not this time. Instead he licked Blair clean, gently biting at his balls and thighs, patting his bottom and helping him pull together his clothes. Blair was red-faced and a little confused, but Jim helped him up, tucking him in, straightening him up, kissing him soundly.
"What am I going to do with you?" he asked fondly, but Blair looked pointedly at his crotch and asked,
"What am I going to do with you?" So Jim unzipped his pants, then pushed Blair backwards till he sat down abruptly on the toilet, just the right height, and the favor was returned almost immediately.
When Jim could talk again, he was sitting on the toilet and Blair was standing, a smug smile on his face, wiping his mouth with satisfaction. Jim shook his head. "Blair --"
But Blair had other plans. "Gotta go back to school, man. Just wanted to see you."
Jim caught his elbow before he could escape. They stared at each other for a moment; Blair began to blush. Jim stroked his hand over the pink cheek before sliding his hand around Blair's neck. "We have to be more careful."
"I know. It's just." He was blushing even more now.
"The power."
"Yeah." He looked at the floor. "Sorry."
"No. No, I understand the impulse. It's just."
"Yeah. Sorry." They stood for a moment more, then Blair kissed Jim softly. "Really, I'll be better."
"Just a little bit better."
"'Kay. Bye."
"Bye." And he was gone. And now Jim had to get back upstairs to that stupid workshop. He had his own ideas about team building.
Jim sat at the counter at Tubby's, eating a tuna melt. With cheese fries. Blair would kill him if he knew, but god it was good. He savored the buttery flavors, licking the salt from his fingers. He missed having his partner around, but moments like this almost made up for it.
"What are you doing, man?" Blair's voice asked, and he dropped the sandwich, looking around guiltily. Shit.
"Do you know many grams of saturated fat you're eating? About a week's worth, in one meal. It's tofu surprise for dinner, for sure." Jim rolled his eyes, before diving back into the sandwich. Wherever Blair was, he had to be near.
"Just put down the sandwich and no one will be hurt," he said, and Jim's mouth twitched in the reluctant start of a smile. "I'm serious. Put down the sandwich and get out here. I'll give you a reward for leaving it."
He stared at the sandwich in his hand. Creamy tuna fish salad, gooey with mayonnaise and cheese, on fried rye bread. He took a deep breath and smelled both the sandwich and Blair. "Jiiiiiim." He took a large bite and then, reluctantly, set down the sandwich and wiped his hands and mouth on several napkins, then gulped his water. He paid and left a generous tip, eyeing the food he was leaving behind. This better be good.
Once outside, he looked around, still not seeing Blair or his car. He sniffed again, and followed the scent. "That's my boy," Blair said approvingly, and Jim's cock twitched in anticipation.
Two parking lots away, Blair sat in the Volvo, wearing dark sunglasses. A steady litany of obscene and occasionally illegal suggestions led Jim directly to him. He leaned against the driver's door, looking in at his friend.
"How you wanna do this?" he asked. Blair never looked at him.
"You better get your ass in the car, man. In. The. Car."
Jim obeyed, laughing quietly at the tough guy act. Odd, how that turned him on, and Blair knew it. A little rough handling by Blair and Jim was a bowl of mush. Happy mush. Hot happy mush.
Blair took off in the direction of the loft. Jim could see his pickup waiting patiently at Tubby's. Back in a few, baby, he mentally called to it, and shifted excitedly in the seat.
A little test, Jim had called it, borrowing the listening device from Communications for the weekend. He worked the earpiece through Blair's hair until it rested lightly behind his left ear. The little powerpack hid in his shirt pocket, underneath a jacket.
Blair was practically vibrating with excitement. He thought it was brilliant; turnabout *is* fair play, he'd told Jim half a dozen times, shimmying his body against Jim's in pleasure. Jim had smacked his butt lightly, just hard enough to catch his attention. Then, when the device was ready and tested, he kissed Blair, with all his heart. With the joy he'd brought Jim as well as the steady seriousness Jim had brought Blair. He squeezed Blair's penis through this faded jeans, and then turned him toward the loft door.
"Okay, Chief. Down to the market. Some juice, a few apples, whatever you want for lunch from the deli, and then straight back." He kissed Blair again, under his hair, on the top knob of his backbone, then licked him wetly.
"Eww," Blair said insincerely. Then he picked up his keys from the basket, turned to smile mischievously at Jim, and left.
Jim tracked him down the stairs and out the front door. He could hear Blair easily in the little gourmet market that had recently opened in the neighborhood, and now Blair could hear him, too.
"I love you," he said conversationally, and was pleased to hear a little gasp from his partner. "I do. I don't tell you often enough. Carolyn used to get on me, big time, for being such a closed-mouth prick. Tighter'n a horse's ass in fly-time, she used to say. I don't wanna make that mistake with you, sweetheart. Not that you're Carolyn, or anything like her. But I want you to know. I love you.
"I desire you, too." Sounded like Blair tripped at that. "You okay? Sorry. But I do. I think you're beyond sexy. That tight little ass, Jesus God, Blair; some days I want you to wear your baggiest jeans, so no one else can see it. Your mouth, which ought to be licensed as a weapon. Oh, man, your hair. I hope you don't cut it. I know I tease you, but it's just teasing. I love to wrap my hands in your hair, bend you back, and kiss you stupid.
"Are you gonna fuck me when you get back?" Something dropped; it sounded squishy. "Are you buying melons? Hunh. I want you to. Fuck me, I mean; not buy melons, although that'd be okay, too. Any way you want me, baby. Over the kitchen table; on the couch; in your old bed; up in the loft. On my back; I like that, so I can see you. But sometimes bent over something, wow. Remember when you did me over the picnic bench in the state park? I had splinters for a week, and loved every one.
"Do we need lube, sweetheart? That reminds me. But hand cream's good, olive oil, that lip stuff, as long as it isn't the menthol. Use anything. Just use *me*.
"I can hear them ringing you up. You're on your way back, aren't you. Oh, Blair, can you hear what I'm doing? I've got my pants open and I'm thinking of you, stroking me, biting me, sucking me. Oh, Jesus, oh, Blair, hurry up, I'm not gonna last much longer, oh. Oh. Shit." Jim took a deep breath and sat up from where he lay on the couch when he heard the keys in the door.
Blair rushed in, face red from his race up the stairs. He slammed the door behind him and tossed the groceries onto the table, then started unbuckling his belt and popping the buttons on his jeans. "Get upstairs," he growled at Jim, who jerked his pants up only enough to keep from tripping on them. "Get up there!"
This was it, Jim thought moments later, on his back after all, one leg over Blair's shoulder and the other hooked around his waist. Blair was staring at his genitals, touching him with reverence and desire, readying him for that which they both wanted. Jim lay back and trusted his friend, relaxing his muscles, opening himself up to the experience. "I love you," he whispered, and Blair spared him a glance.
"Good. 'Cause I love you half to death. Now be quiet."
Jim put his hands on his knees and pulled back a bit more; Blair's eyes got even bigger and his face even redder. A slow finger traced down Jim's thigh, over his balls, across the perineum, and then circled his anus before slickly entering it. "I want you so much, Jim," Blair said softly, then looked into Jim's eyes. "I love you."
"Fuck me, Blair," Jim asked, and Blair nodded. Then he pushed, and Jim's head rolled back, his back arched, and his mouth opened soundlessly.
Jim sat in some discomfort at his desk. He didn't regret the weekend, but he certainly needed a break. He shifted again, hoping no one would ask what was wrong. Although he was prepared with an obfuscation. Poison oak.
"Jim," Blair's voice called to him. He seemed to be at some distance. "Jim, can you hear me? I'm, like, miles away. Okay, down the block at the drug store, on my way to the station. I want you to know that I love you, too. Yesterday, I think I forgot to tell you. I was so, uh, excited. But I do. I do.
"I love fucking you, Jim, and I fucking love you. Forever and ever, man. Forever and ever."
Jim nodded to himself, and smiled. Forever and ever. A lifetime of listening to Blair.