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Blair Sandburg woke in the morning to the twin sensations of a throbbing ankle and a protesting bladder. He groaned and rolled out of the hammock with the practiced ease of two months spent in the field, then winced when his tender ankle hit the floor. Oh yeah, he thought to himself. You've really done a number on yourself this time -and got yourself into some serious shit. He tried to put a little bit of weight on his ankle and nearly took a nose-dive into the floor.
In a flash, Jim was down the ladder from the loft and at his side. "You okay, Chief?"
"Just this damn ankle," he said from between gritted teeth, trying to keep from spewing or pissing on himself. At the moment, both efforts looked pretty hopeless.
Jim dragged over a stool and settled Blair on it, then knelt to take a look at the ankle. Blair bit his lip to keep a groan from escaping his lips, but this time it wasn't one of pain. The older man was half-naked, apparently having discarded the muscle shirt he had been wearing the previous day, and his leggings had obviously been molded to his body by an expert tailor because they left nothing to the imagination. Not that Blair needed any help picturing the other man naked - he had an excellent imagination.
"It looks pretty swollen. Incacha said that you should stay off it as much as possible."
Blair gave him a "no shit?" look. "And I'd really love to do that, but right now I gotta take a leak."
Jim chuckled at that and fetched one of Blair's boots for his good foot, then slipped on his own before hauling Blair to his feet. "Come on, Chief - I'll show you the facilities."
Blair rolled his eyes but accepted the help and slid an arm around Jim's waist for support. Jim helped him hobble outside to an area around back of the hut, and Blair slapped his hand away when he would have helped Blair unfasten his pants.
"Thanks, man - I think I can take it from here." Blair reached out to brace himself against a tree trunk with one hand, willing Jim to walk away. The last thing he needed was for Jim to see just exactly what his half-naked nearness did to Blair's already healthy morning libido.
Jim shrugged but moved away, obviously to take care of his own full bladder. Blair sighed in relief as he unzipped his tight jeans and pulled out his cock, concentrating on as many nasty things as he could so that his erection would go down enough for him to piss. It wasn't hard to come up with such thoughts - an instant replay of the previous morning's events pretty much cancelled any arousal.
He shook off and zipped up, turning around awkwardly to find Jim waiting nearby for him.
"You know, Jim, you're gonna get pretty sick of this," he said as Jim helped him back to the hut. "Maybe you could just find me a stick or something to use as a crutch."
"Got something in my hut that'll work, though you'll be okay in a day or two. But right now, I think you need a bath. No offense, Sandburg, but you smell pretty ripe."
Blair grinned. "You should be on this side of the stink, man. And you could use one yourself - you forgot to take off your party makeup last night."
Without thinking, he reached out to touch one of the streaks of paint decorating Jim's cheeks. There was a flash of something in Jim's eyes and then he pulled away abruptly, leaving Blair with his hand in the air and an embarrassed flush on his face.
Stupid, stupid, stupid! he chastised himself, dropping his hand into his lap and biting his lip. Coming onto the bigger man was like the most stupid thing he could do - not to mention potentially lifethreatening.
He cast his roommate a sideways glance and saw that Jim didn't appear to be angry or upset. He was gathering up supplies for their proposed bath, digging through a trunk in one corner of the hut.
"Here, Chief," Jim said, tossing a bundle of cloth at him. "They may be a little big, but you'll want something to wear while you're washing your clothes."
Blair unfolded the bundle and found that it included a pair of drawstring sweat-shorts and a T-shirt. "The Jags? No way, man! They're like my favorite team!"
Jim shrugged as he gathered clothes for himself. "I liked the name."
"You liked the name?" Blair asked him, dumbfounded. "Are you trying to tell me you've never watched them play? Where have you been all your life, man?"
"Here," Jim said simply, handing Blair a thick staff that had been leaning against the wall and turning towards the doorway. "Coming, Chief?"
Blair hobbled after him, his mind whirling with thoughts and questions. He hadn't had a chance to think about it before, but now that the subject had come up, he wondered just what Jim was doing this deep in the jungle, living with these people. He had obviously been with them a long time - his ease of speech, the way the other warriors had accepted his leadership spoke of several years here, although Blair had serious doubts about the "all my life" bit. Hell, Jags T-shirts didn't grow on trees, and Jim hadn't learned to speak fluent, western-accented, idiomatic English from talking to the
animals.
So the question was - why was Jim here? He doubted that Jim was here to study the culture - he didn't have the attitude of a scientist. No, he was definitely the warrior type, but somehow Blair didn't think he was with any type of military operation. Blair had met military types before during his travels, and Kincaid was more in that "gung ho" group, not Jim. A fugitive of some kind? Possible, but he doubted it. There was an air of almost-innocence in those icy blue eyes, and he had been incredibly gentle with both the women and Blair yesterday. The memory of long fingers gently massaging his sore wrists made him flush and surreptitiously adjust his jeans.
He followed Jim into the village, wondering why the man's hut was set so far away from the rest of the huts - maybe Jim wasn't quite as accepted as he had first thought.
Although it was just barely past dawn, several women were already at the fire-pit, working on the community's breakfast, and they called out cheerful greetings to Jim as they passed. Jim nodded and called something back, then paused and waited for Blair to catch up with him. He tactfully refrained from asking Blair if he was doing okay, simply moderating his steps so that the injured man could keep up with him.
"Not too much further, Chief," he said, leading the way down a sloping path.
"Good," Blair managed to say, most of his energy focused on just keeping moving. He glanced up and saw that they were approaching a small lake and let out a sigh of relief. It would probably be freezing-ass-cold, but right about now that sounded good.
He glanced over at Jim and watched, stunned, as the other man nonchalantly kicked off his boots, dropped his leggings and walked towards the water. Obviously no body modesty there, he thought wryly. And he certainly doesn't need to have any.
He flushed at his thoughts and hastily averted his eyes from the naked man. Setting down his spare clothes and walking stick, he hesitated, debating what to do. Although not a prude by any means, he was naturally modest about displaying his body - particularly with such a sleek, perfect specimen frolicking in the water just a few feet away from him - and prudence suggested that he go in with his clothes on. On the other hand, it was a bitch trying to get off wet jeans, and he'd either have to strip after he got out of the water or walk through the village in wet clothes.
He glanced around quickly and saw that there wasn't anyone else around at the moment, so he hastily pulled off his filthy shirt and dropped it on the ground. He had to sit down to pull of his boot, not trusting his balance on his injured ankle, and risked another glance over at Jim. He saw with relief that the other man was waist- deep in the water and seemed to be occupied with soaping up his body, so he took advantage of the moment to hastily strip off his pants, grab the other sliver of soap, and hobble into the water.
He had been right - it was cold, but the temperature was soothing for his throbbing ankle, even if the rest of his body protested. Gritting his teeth, he forced himself to move deeper into the water until it came up to his stomach. He hastily soaped up his body and dunked in the water, then set about the arduous task of washing his hair. It didn't help that it was tangled with jungle debris and caked with dirt from his little adventure of the previous day, and he patiently set about untangling the mess.
Jim dunked under the water to rinse the soap from his body and quickly soaped his short-cropped hair while surreptitiously watching the younger man. He had noticed Blair's increase in body temperature as he undressed on the shore, his embarrassment at being naked, confirming his opinion that the young academic had led a sheltered life. Ruthlessly, he shoved down his disappointment, glad that the cold water at least suppressed his reaction to the sight of Blair's body. Naked, the young man's body turned out to be more muscular than Jim had thought at first, although - given his profession - that shouldn't have been a surprise. The thick hair that covered his chest had also been a surprise - Jim's own chest was nearly hairless, and the few lovers he had had in the past had been similarly non- hirsute. There was something about that dark patch of hair that made Jim want to reach out to touch it, to run his fingers through it and trace a dusky nipple before following the trail down to the cock and balls that he had briefly sighted before Blair got in the water.
He ducked under the water again to rinse off his head and cool his ardor, then risked another glance over at Blair. The younger man appeared to be engaged in a life-and-death struggle with his unruly hair, and Jim was startled to hear his own voice say, "Need a hand with that, Chief?"
Blair looked over at him, startled, and a faint flush stained his cheeks. "Thanks, but it's such a mess that I think I'm just gonna have to cut the damn stuff off."
"Don't do that." Jim silently cursed himself as he voiced another unexpected comment. He ignored Blair's startled look as he crossed the space between them. Moving to stand behind Blair, he began carefully removing the debris that was tangled in the heavy mass. He was aware of both the panicked heart-beat of his guide and the silky threads in his hands, and worked as quickly as he could before the scent and feel could overwhelm his reason.
"There," he said finally, and moved away before he could be tempted to lower his face into the curly mass and breath in the scents of his guide. "That should help."
"Thanks, Jim," Blair managed to say although his voice sounded harsh to his own ears. His thighs hurt from where he had dug his fingernails into them to keep from pressing back against the muscled body standing behind him. A step, maybe two, and he would be able to feel that strong body against his, the thick weight of that long cock pressed against his ass. His tongue hurt from where he had bit it to keep from groaning out loud as those long fingers moved through his hair and set every nerve he had on fire.
He cleared his throat and set about soaping his hair and rinsing it, convincing his unruly body at the same time that it really didn't want to invite a thorough bashing. Fortunately, by the time his hair was clean enough for him to leave the water, his body was also thoroughly subdued. He dried himself hastily with the rough toweling material Jim had given him, swiftly pulled on the shorts and T-shirt, then looked at his discarded clothes. The shirt was a total loss, ripped in several places and stained with his blood at the cuffs, but the jeans were salvageable if dirty. He carried them down to the lake and washed them as best he could. By the time he was done, he was aware than Jim was dressed again and waiting for him.
The trip back to the hut was easier than the one down, mostly because the cold water had reduced the swelling of his ankle, but he was still thankful to collapse back into the hammock and put his foot up. Jim bustled around, hanging up their wet clothes and the rough toweling to dry, putting things back into place, and puttering in general. Blair felt bad about letting Jim do all the work - but not bad enough to get up from his comfortable position.
A tapping on the door made Jim look up in surprise and frown; he hadn't been expecting company this morning, although it was probably Incacha coming to check on Blair. Which reminded him - he needed to talk with the Shaman and village elders about the prisoner, as he had promised Blair.
"Haykumay!" he called out. The door opened and he frowned when he saw that it wasn't Incacha. "Lita, munanki?" he asked with a sigh.
The young native woman gave him a sultry smile. "I bring you food and drink, Enqueri," she replied softly, holding up a platter of food and a pitcher, then she cast a superior look towards the hammock where Blair lay. "Your maqt'a doesn't appear to know the proper way to take care of you."
He frowned. "Blair is not my servant; he is my Guide. You know this, Lita."
"I know that the great Enqueri has not taken his supposed guide to his bed," she retorted. "I am not surprised - he is so ugly!" She set the platter and pitcher on the low table and moved closer to Jim, giving him a seductive look from under her long eyelashes. "I am not ugly, am I, Enqueri? I can take care of your needs - all of them."
Jim frowned and moved away from the girl. "Enough, Lita. You know this is not possible - would you call down your own death?"
She came up behind him, her hands reaching up to grasp his shoulders as she pressed her body against his back. "We could leave here, go to the city - "
Jim pulled away. "Manipuni!" he said sharply. "Go, Lita, and do not come to me like this again. If you do, I will be forced to tell Richitu that he has a sip'u siki for a daughter."
Lita's face flamed red with anger and embarrassment and, with a glare at Blair that could have struck him dead, she stormed out of the hut, slamming the door behind her.
Blair stared at the door in surprise, then looked back at Jim. "A friend of yours?"
Jim gave Blair a surprised look, then chuckled. "Not hardly, Sandburg," he said dryly. "More like - your competition." He gestured at the platter. "Help yourself, Chief. I'm gonna go talk with Incacha about that prisoner."
Blair stared at the closed door for a second time, not sure if he had heard that correctly. Your competition? His competition for what? The girl had obviously been hot to get into Jim's pants - she had been turning up the heat from the moment she had entered the hut. He had even thought about excusing himself so that they could get on with it.
And then Jim had kicked the bitch out on her shapely little butt.
Blair grinned at that, even as his heart began doing flip-flops. Jim couldn't possibly mean what Blair thought he had. The older man hadn't given Blair the slightest indication that he was interested in him sexually. So that left -
His eyes fell on the platter sitting on the table, and he remembered what Jim had said about everyone in the village pulling their weight. But surely the man hadn't dragged his butt all the way here just so that Blair could play servant-boy to him? On the other hand, it made a certain kind of sense. If the unmarried girls in the village were throwing themselves all over Jim and he wasn't interested, then he wouldn't want to have any of them around his hut, making a pest of themselves. But he couldn't do his own cooking and cleaning - it would mess with his status among the other men. So the solution - get in a clueless outsider who would be more than happy to clean up behind his ass to keep from getting tossed into the jungle. Only Jim had figured wrong - and the minute his ankle was healed, he was gonna be so out of here that it would make Jim's head spin!
Jim returned from his brief talk with Incacha feeling discouraged and more than a little frustrated. Tutapurimi had been with Incacha, having arrived this morning from his own village, and although Jim had been happy for his friend, it had also made him envious. It was so much easier for them, raised to know their place in the hierarchy of the village. And even though Tuta was too young for them to engage in the sexual aspect of their partnership, the easy way they interacted with each other made him long for the same comfort with his own Guide.
He stopped outside the hut and rubbed his forehead fretfully. The presence of another Sentinel in his territory, even an ally like Tuta, created a disturbing hum along all his senses and set his nerves on edge. He wondered if he could convince Blair to give him a few hours of peace and quiet so that he could get in a nap before the meeting with the Tribal elders this evening.
He opened the door and immediately ducked as a wooden platter smacked the door-frame next to his head. "Sandburg?" he growled. "What in the hell - "
"Fuck you, man!" Blair snapped, and Jim winced as the unexpectedly loud voice irritated his already off-kilter senses. "You think that you can just drag me half-way across Peru so that I can play houseboy for you?"
Jim's heart plummeted and he sank down on the stool as his legs began to shake. It had been a stupid comment to make, and he had known it the moment the words were out of his mouth. Only it was too late, and he had hoped that if he didn't say anything else, Blair wouldn't notice what he had said. He almost laughed aloud at that - Blair not notice?
"I didn't spend seven fucking years in college so that I could spend my time picking up after your shit and following you around!" Blair fumed. "And you don't have to worry about kicking my ass out into the jungle - as soon as my ankle's healed, I am so outta here, man! I am gone!" Blair stormed out of the hut as best he could on one good leg and a crutch, slamming the door behind him.
Jim sat silently on the stool, the sound of the slamming door still ringing in his ears. Gone, the voice in his head repeated. Gonegonegonegone...
Blair got halfway to the fire-circle before his conscience forced its way through his anger. He stopped on the path and looked back towards the hut, frowning. Something wasn't right - he didn't know exactly what, but just - something nudged at the back of his head and said that he needed to go back.
And he hadn't exactly given Jim a chance to present his side of the story, something that Naomi had always insisted on. It takes two to make a dialog, sweetie, he heard her voice saying inside his head and he sighed. Right, he thought with a resigned sigh. He'd go back and let Jim tell him his side of the story -and then he'd knock the sorry son-of-a-bitch on his ass.
He hobbled back to the hut and opened the door cautiously, not sure what frame of mind the other man would be in. "Jim?"
There was no answer. He went into the hut and saw that Jim was still sitting on the stool, staring at the far wall. He sighed and hobbled closer.
"Look, Jim, I know that I kinda exploded on you, and I didn't give you a chance to tell me your side of the story. So - tell me, man. Why did you bring me here?" There was no answer and he moved closer, frowning. "Come on, Jim. I know you're mad at me, but sulking - it just doesn't seem like your style."
He had reached Jim's side by now and looked down at the other man, then gasped in surprise. Jim was staring off into space, his eyes vacant, his whole body seeming to be shut down. Only the shallow movement of his chest told Blair that the man was alive.
"Oh, man," Blair muttered. The other man had obviously suffered from some weird kind of seizure, or maybe a stroke although he seemed too young for that. He felt for the pulse in Jim's neck and was relieved to find it steady if a little bit too slow. Shock, he thought.
Keeping his hand on Jim's neck and massaging gently, he set about trying to bring Jim out of his trance, talking in a low voice to the man. "Come on, Jim. Wake up here, man - you're scaring the shit outta me."
Jim's ears picked up a new set of sounds, something other than the echo of the word "gone". Words, a lot of words, none of which made sense at the moment, but underneath the words was something more important. His Guide's heartbeat.
He blinked his eyes and drew in a deep breath, barely aware of Blair saying, "Thank God! You okay, man?"
"Yeah," Jim said hoarsely, blinking his eyes to restore the moisture. Blair grabbed the pitcher off the table, thankful that he hadn't thrown that as well, and poured a generous amount into a mug, then held it up to Jim's mouth.
"Here. Drink it slowly. That's it, just like that." He continued talking in the same low, non-threatening tone that seemed to have brought Jim out of that weird seizure, one hand on Jim's shoulder to keep him anchored. Jim obeyed with a meekness that would have made Blair suspicious at any other time, but he was too shaken at the moment to notice. "You okay, Jim?"
That voice wouldn't allow lies, not even little face-saving ones, and Jim readily gave into it. "Head hurts."
"I'm not surprised." Blair moved his hand down to hook Jim under the arm and tugged. "Up, big guy. I want you to lay down and take a little nap, okay?"
"Okay." Jim maneuvered up the ladder to his pallet and flopped down on this back, thankfully closing his eyes to shut out the unwanted stimulus. Then they popped open again and he sat up, glancing over the side of the platform. "Blair?"
Blair looked up at the other man in surprise -he couldn't recall the man calling him by his first name before, and in combination with that shaky tone of voice, it tore up something inside him. "Yeah, Jim?"
"You - you won't leave, will you?"
Blair sighed. "No, Jim. I won't leave." He glanced around the hut, taking in the mess he had made with his earlier temper tantrum. "I'm gonna clean up this mess, and then I'm gonna go see about getting you something to eat when you wake up. But I won't leave the village. I promise you."
"Thanks." Jim sank back down on his pallet and let his eyes shut again. Breathing in slowly, he set about equalizing his senses, his hearing fixed on the heartbeat of his Guide so that he wouldn't lose his way.
Blair finished tidying up the hut as quietly as possible, aware from the heavy breathing above him that Jim had fallen into a deep sleep. He frowned as he thought about the seizure that he had just witnessed. Something about it was familiar, something that he had read a few years ago, describing behavior like this, but his brain refused to yield what context he had read it in.
With a sigh, he gave up trying to chase that thought, hoping it would come back to him later. He picked up the platter - slightly the worse for wear after its collision with the door frame - and set off once again for the fire circle.
As he got closer, he could see that Isabet was also there and he hurried his hobbling steps. He wanted the chance to talk to her, to find out if she was okay, and to learn how Tania was doing.
At the moment, it looked like the young girl was more than a little overwhelmed, tending a herd of small children while their mothers prepared the evening meal. One of the little boys had tripped over a log and was howling at the top of his lungs, and his cries threatened to set off some of the others while the bigger children were busy trying to point the finger at each other. Blair sat down on the ground beside the screaming child and, after ascertaining that there was nothing injured but his pride, pulled the boy into his lap to blow a raspberry on his belly. The boy stopped crying immediately, giggling and saying something that was obviously the Quechan demand for "More!", so Blair obliged until the boy was laughing once again. Of course, the rest of the children demanded their share of the attention which Blair gave them until they were all collapsed into an exhausted but happy clump on the ground around him.
"Thank you, Senor Sandburg," Isabet said softly, handing him a mug of something cool and fruity to drink.
"No problem, Isabet," he said with a shrug, and patted the ground next to him. After a quick look back towards the circle of women, she sat down and accepted a sip from his mug. "How are you doing? They treating you okay?"
She nodded her head, a shy smile crossing her face. "Oh, yes! Mamay Chatya's been very kind to me."
"And Tania? have you seen her? Is she okay?"
Isabet giggled at that, covering her mouth with her hand. "How could she not be? Mato is so young and handsome. I only hope that I can get as fine a husband of my own one day."
You and me both, Blair thought wistfully. The children started to stir restlessly, and he said, "You look like these little monsters have been wearing you out. Why don't I tell them a story so you can have a little break? Do they speak Spanish or English?" Isabet shook her head. "Well then, I'll tell the story to you in Spanish, and you can translate it for them, okay?"
Isabet nodded her head eagerly and the children, sensing that a tale was in the offering, immediately quieted down. Blair looked around the circle of children, gathering each of them up with his eyes, and began talking.
"This is the story of the Great Jaguar God, and how he came from the land of the gods to give his children the Gift of Language," he began, waiting for Isabet to translate what he had said before starting the next part. "Long, long ago, when the land was new and the sun was young, the Jaguar God looked down on his People and saw that although they lived in a world of great beauty, they were very sad...."
Jim woke up after a few hours of restful sleep, a little groggy but aware that his nagging headache had disappeared. He sat up and stretched his back to ease the kinks from sleeping too long in one position, and then peered down into the hut. It was empty but it was obvious that Blair had been there for some time after he had fallen asleep because the earlier mess had been cleaned away. A short search with his senses informed him that Blair was still there in the village, at the fire-circle, and that he was talking. One corner of his mouth curved upward - why was he not surprised?
He climbed down the ladder and went outside to relieve himself, then splashed water from the rain barrel on his face to clear away the last of the cobwebs. A quick glance up at the sun told him that it was mid-afternoon, and his growling stomach informed him that it had been awhile since he had eaten, so he headed towards the fire-circle in the hopes of coaxing an early supper out of the women there.
The first thing he was aware of as he neared the central clearing was the sound of two voices: his Guide's voice speaking in Spanish, and then the lighter tones of a young girl's voice as she spoke in the native language. Curious, he approached the circle and found that nearly all of the tribe were gathered there. The children were sitting at Blair's feet and listening with rapt attention as he told a story and the girl, Isabet he remembered Blair calling her, translated. Around the outside of the circle, the adults were listening with just as much attention, even as their hands worked with some task like mending weapons or clothing.
Incacha was there, too, leaning against the wall of his hut with an amused look on his face, and he silently signaled for Jim to join him. Jim leaned against the wall next to him, accepting a bowl of stew from Tuta with a nod of thanks, then leaned his head closer to Incacha's.
"How long?" he murmured.
"It is his third story," Incacha said softly. "Truly, your mate has a gifted tongue."
Jim tried not to choke on his stew. "Yeah," he managed to say. "I noticed."
Incacha turned to look at him, a frown on his face. "You have not yet spoke to him of what lies between you, have you?"
Jim sighed. "I haven't had the time, Incacha."
"You must make the time, Sentinalme," Incacha said sternly. "What are you afraid of?"
Jim stared down into his bowl, his appetite suddenly gone. "That he will leave me."
"If you do not speak, he will have no reason to stay. If you tell him what is in your heart, you will at least have a chance to gain what you desire."
"I don't know what is in my heart," Jim said lowly.
Incacha shook his head slowly. "You cannot lie to me, old friend. Do not lie to yourself." He glanced towards where Blair sat. "Do not lie to him."
Jim nodded silently, unable to say anything more. He watched as Blair finished up his story and found that he was sorry when it ended.
So were the children, but Blair laughed and sent them off to do their chores and eat their dinners, with a promise of another story the next day. They ran off, calling back "Yusulpayki, Yachacheq!" and Blair watched them go with a grin.
He was aware of Jim crossing the clearing to stand in front of him, and tried to fend off the awkward moment by saying, "I know that 'yusulpayki' means thanks, but what's 'yachacheq'?"
Jim smiled. "That's you, Sandburg. They've given you a Chopec name - it means 'Teacher'." He reached out to tuck a stray lock of Blair's hair back behind his ear. "It's a pretty big honor, Chief. Teachers are highly revered among the Chopec."
"Yeah?" Blair was startled, both by the knowledge that he had been, in effect, accepted into the tribe, and by the gentle look on Jim's face.
Jim smiled wider at the hopeful, eager look on the younger man's face and thought that maybe Incacha had been right. Maybe it was possible that Blair could come to care for him, to want him, as much as he loved and wanted Blair. He would just take this slow, give nature and the bond a chance to work. "Yeah. I think you've got a place here with them for as long as you want."
Blair could feel himself flushing. "And with you, Jim?"
"Yeah, Sandburg. With me, too." He patted Blair's cheeks teasingly, and said, "Of course, we've got to get a few rules straight first."
"Rules?" Sandburg said suspiciously. "What kind of rules?"
Jim smirked a little as he turned back towards their hut and shrugged nonchalantly. "The usual kind - picking up after yourself, no candles lit after nine at night, no slamming doors and throwing food - "
"You are such a shit!" Blair laughed, hobbling after the other man. "Next thing I know, you'll be color-coding the wash-lines so that we don't get our shorts and socks mixed up."
"Well, now that you mention it, Sandburg..."
End of Tales of the Jungle #2