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The loud "thump" from upstairs didn't register with Sandburg, but the accompanying "Fuck", did. It was followed by three "Shit's", two more "Fuck's", one very strained, "God dammit" and two "Crap's". But it was the "drat" that got to Blair. Drat? Who says drat? And if Jim is saying it, something must *really* be wrong. "Fuck." Blair peeked into Jim's room. Laughing would not be good right now, he somehow knew this. After all, Jim was simply trying to put on his jeans. That was all. Just trying to put on a pair of jeans. But he couldn't. The thump repeated itself as Jim fell over. One leg in, one leg out. Ass on the ground. "Drat." There it was again. Drat. "Jim? You just said, "Drat"......why?" A very disgruntled Sentinel looked up, having been completely taken by surprise. "Shit, where did you come from?" "Naomi. And man unknown." As Blair spoke, he took pity on Jim. He looked so darn helpless, so......needy, so damn cute. He quickly moved on up and knelt by Jim's side. "You didn't even hear me coming, did you?" Disgruntled was replaced by miserable as the detective shook his head. Miserable *and* pathetic. And cute. Sandburg put one hand under Jim's arm and hefted. "Come on, lets get you up and see what's wrong." With much heavy breathing, stumbling, cursing and suppressed chuckling, Blair managed to get Jim onto the bed. "Just one question, man, why are you putting on jeans at seven thirty at night anyway? Got a hot date?" "Store. Aspirin." "Didn't really think it was a hot date. And I have aspirin. Why didn't you just ask?" "I *could* have a hot date. And you don't use aspirin." "You couldn't. And where you get the idea I don't use aspirin, I'll never know. Hang on, I'll get you some." Blair quickly made his way downstairs to a muffled, "Could too" and as he went into his room he answered back, "Could not." But amazingly, Jim didn't hear him. *Now* Blair was worried. He stopped just long enough to get a glass of water, then back upstairs. "Here." And he handed him the water and two aspirin. Jim swallowed, then drank. And drank. And held out the glass imploringly. Sandburg frowned, put a hand to his friends face and felt a slight warmth. "Fever. You have a slight fever." He couldn't keep the surprise out of his voice. "Yeah? So? I have a fever. That's why I wanted the aspirin, Darwin. Jeesh. And could too." "Could not. And I've never, ever, ever, seen you with a fever. A cold. Once. But never a fever. This is like ~ monumental. History." "Water?" "Yeah, be right back." And back downstairs, but this time muttering all the way. "A fever, he has a fever. *I* get fevers, not him." And as he went into the kitchen, "Jim has a fever. Hey, I can take care of him, how novel." And as he poured the water into a large pitcher, "A fever, he actually has a fever. Why?" And as he added ice cubes, "I mean, he didn't even hear me.....probably can't hear me now." And as he walked upstairs, "Ear. Must be his ears. Yeah, that's it." He set the pitcher down, took the glass from waiting hands, filled it and replaced in eager fingers. Jim slurped this time, slurped long and loud. Then smacked his lips, then held out the glass again, his expression saying, "Pretty please", better than any words could have. Blair poured again. Ellison sipped this time, and Blair took the opportunity to slide the jeans off his partner and throw them onto the chair behind him. "Let me check something, Jim." And he carefully ran his fingers on either side of the man's neck, running them gently and tenderly up, his fingers "walking" carefully, feeling, moving up behind Jim's ears, his head bobbing up and down, his lips pursed. "Yep, swollen glands. Probably an ear infection. Senses down?" "A little. Ow! That hurt, Sandburg. And could too." "Oh, my poor widdle sentinel. And could not." Blair got the covers pulled back, fluffed up the pillows and then eased Jim back. "You need sleep. Maybe we can nip this in the bud and avoid you and doctors. Maybe. Come on, under the covers, that's it, snuggle down, I've got you." Jim did as he was told, but for a reason he'd yet to fathom. He reached over to snag another pillow, but Blair beat him to it. The younger man gently lifted Jim's head and settled the additional pillow in place, then rested the detective's head back down. "Comfy?" He could no more bite back the grin then he could have avoided peeking at Jim when they'd been on the Cyclops oil rig. Saying "comfy" to Detective Jim Ellison was one for the record books. But Jim's response was even better. He just closed his eyes, smiled serenely and said, "Um, yes, sweetheart." Blair froze. Sweetheart? *Sweetheart*? Delirious. That was it. Jim ~ was ~ delirious. He frowned. He thought. He frowned some more. He stuck his tongue out the corner of his mouth. Thought some more. And decided to ignore it. It was just a slip. Nothing more. A slip. "Drat." Jim's eyes flew open, looked around for Blair, settled on him, smiled again. "Did you say something, Chief?" "Nope. Gonna go downstairs, fix you some soup. Okay?" Eyes closed again, smile in place, "Ummm, sounds good. Thanks." ><>^^<><> Blair lowered himself to the couch, exhausted. He'd actually fed Jim! Fed him. Spoonful by spoonful of soup. And Jim had just smiled, commenting on how good it was, how it had hit the spot. And he slurped the soup too! "Shit." And he'd called him sweetheart. And Blair had liked it. No, *loved* it. But, Jim hadn't meant it, had he? Could he have meant it? Could Jim have *feelings* for Blair? *Those* feelings? Like the ones Blair had for him? Nah. No way. "DRAT!" Blair was up in a second as the "drat" was followed by another thump. "Jim? What is it? What's wrong?" But he could see what was wrong the minute he got into Jim's room. Jim was on the floor again. Sandburg rushed to his side, knelt down and let his hands roam, testing, making sure Jim was okay. "I couldn't.....I got dizzy. Couldn't stand straight." "It's your ear. Infection, playing with your equilibrium. Come on, back into bed. And what were you getting up for anyway?" "Bathroom, Chief. Bathroom." "Oh. Well let me help you, jeesh, all you had to do was yell." Several minutes later, after helping Jim *way* more than he'd ever done, he had the man back into bed. "Okay, we'll try again. You sleep. You get well. You need something, I help you. Got it?" "Got it. Sleep, well, need, you, help. And could too." "You are so stubborn. Lie back and close your eyes. And could not." Jim again did as he was told, but sick or not, he was beginning to know *why* he did as Blair told him. And he liked it. "Tell me a story? You know, one of your native stories. I'll sleep better." Blair shook his head in wonder. He was seeing a whole new Jim Ellison. A sick Ellison was a very cute Ellison. "Once upon a time.......", "....in a galaxy far, far away......" ><>^<><> It was the pleasant, but unaccustomed warmth that woke him. He didn't immediately open his eyes, he wanted to savor the dream. The warmth, that in his fantasies always signaled Blair, was too good to allow to evaporate. He wanted to go on believing it *was* Blair. He let his hand slide over what was undoubtedly his pillow, but with the right imagination, could be Blair. The pillow was warm, silky, muscled. Muscled? A pillow with muscles? He cracked open one eye. His hand was resting on Sandburg's left arm. Blair had obviously fallen asleep while keeping him company. Jim had shifted his body during the night, so that he was positioned closer to the edge of the bed. Blair lay sprawled on his back, in the center of the bed, his legs spread out, his right arm flung over Jim's chest, his head flat on the mattress, but butted up against the detective's chest, just under his armpit. Now if Ellison could just figure out a way to keep him here, like, forever? He let his right hand drop gently on the top of Sandburg's head. Yep, felt just like he knew it would. Soft. Silky. Springy. Blair's hair. He allowed his eyes to travel over the well loved face, and marveled again that one face could look so handsome, so beautiful, so masculine, yet, so young and innocent. And in sleep? Completely calm, still, quiet. He tried to stop his hand. Really tried. But it seemed to have a mind of it's own. It moved from the top of Blair's head, down, one finger trailing past the temple, down, down, to those lips, then his thumb took over, brushing the bottom lip, oh, so carefully, lightly. And Blair's mouth opened slightly and Jim's thumb just ~ slipped in. Lids slowly slid open, ocean deep blue eyes blinking lazily. The mouth suckled on Jim's thumb, tongue swirling around the digit, teeth just grazing the nail, and then the glorious tongue took the digit in deeper. And Jim's cock jumped to attention. His eyes widened, round now, unbelieving, the heat of what Blair was doing moving through his body, warming him in places that had been too cold for far too long. He moaned in pleasure, and fought back the urge to take this man, to take him now, no preamble, just possession, but what Blair was making him feel, God, he had to let it go on, feel everything Blair had to give him. Finally Blair released Jim's thumb, lifted his head, eyes locking, asking, and Jim could only nod and Sandburg smiled, a long, generous, sensual smile. A smile of acknowledgement, of victory, of mutual agreement. He raised himself up, straddled Jim's body, knees on either side of Jim's hips, hands flat on the bed and on either side of the man's shoulders. Then he slowly lowered his head, hair brushing Jim's face, and Jim's eyes watched as that mouth came closer, watched the way a man dying of thirst would watch the hand bringing a cup of water......lips parted, waiting for that first drop, and lips met, and Jim knew he would never thirst again. Dreams lied. *Nothing* could have prepared him for the explosion of tastes, of feelings, of intense need. His hands were everywhere at once, stroking Blair's back, pulling up his shirt, struggling with a zipper, tugging jeans down over hips that were already thrusting gently into him, rocking as that tongue explored, mined, played and teased. After what seemed an eternity, Blair was undressed, and Jim's own shorts were balled up and in a corner somewhere. Jim pulled away from kiss, brought both hands up to frame the face, hold him back and take in the body above him. His eyes traveled down, taking in the neck and the bit of hair that had always tantalized him, peeking out of shirt collars, then down farther, across a chest, broad in it's own right, lean though, and supple, lit on the curling mass of springy chest hair, followed it down, the arrow leading to Blair's cock, as it jutted out, proud and ready. He flipped the younger man over, and their positions were reversed. He, poised above Blair, looking down into a face suffused with the same passion, the same need. Blair's legs parted and Jim slipped in between, pushing thighs further apart, letting their cocks align, and surprised when Blair thrust up, hard, and the jolt as their cocks struck each other, and the groan that was ripped from him, signaling the need for more thrusts, and both men moving, in rhythm, up and down, Blair's hands grasping Jim's hips, and lips locking again, then Jim came, moaning Blair's name into his mouth, and Blair followed, moments later, head twisting, mouthing Jim's name, as his throat was stretched beyond the ability to make a sound. <><>^<><> The quiet woke them both. The peace and quiet. Blair was draped across Jim's chest, head resting on one shoulder, one leg tucked in between Jim's. His right arm was outstretched, with Jim's, fingers entwined.His left arm was bent at the elbow, his hand resting against Jim's head, gently caressing. Jim's left hand was making little trips up and down Blair's back, up and over the curve of Blair's ass, reveling in the feel of it, the strength, the smoothness, the roundness. He felt more than heard, Blair's words. "Feeling better, are we?" "Um. Had excellent care." "I should say so. *I've* never had this kind of attention." "Oh, my poor widdle guide. And why couldn't I have had a hot date?" "Because you had the hots for me. Silly Sentinel." "And you knew this how?" "Well, calling me sweetheart was my first clue, but waking up with your thumb in my mouth really cinched it." "Ah, the old, "Sentinel thumb in Guide's mouth". Should have guessed. Dead giveaway." "Basically, yes." "So, we a couple now?" "Well, I'm no one night stand. I want respect in the morning. I'm not just some pretty Frank Nightingale that you can use up and throw away. No siree, not this angel of mercy." "Frank? Frank Nightingale?" "You expected Florence?" "Ah. Frank. You know, I've always had a secret hankering for male nurses. Sponge baths, you know." "I'll give you a sponge bath you won't soon forget. And no hands or washcloths involved." And so after successfully bringing his Sentinel back to glowing health, Blair Sandburg proceeded to lick Jim Ellison clean. The End. |