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FIC: Restraint J/B
Good grief, I can't believe this is actually finished.
Title: Restraint
Fandom: Sentinel
Pairing: J/B
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Bondage, but if it were ice cream it would be vanilla. Possibly with caramel.
Notes: I've been trying to finish this for months. *g* Deep gratitude to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
sori1773 and mab_browne for encouragement and the most kick-ass beta ever. I desperately needed you guys. *hugs*
Summary: Jim. Blair. Bed. Railing. Tie. Angst-free, with a staggering lack of plot.
Restraint by Audra Rose
Jim loves the days that he has to spend in court. Like some kind of reward for the hours of restless boredom he gets to come home to Blair – Blair, who never lets him get past loosening his tie before they are somehow on the bed, touching each other in the golden early-evening light.
“Why?” he asks on this night, whispering the words into Blair’s mouth. “Not that I’m complaining…”
Then Blair is turning him, rolling with him until he can feel Blair’s weight all along the length of his body; until he can see Blair lean back to smile at him, that private smile that always sends slow tendrils of lust down his spine.
“I like the tie,” Blair says, fingers skating over blue silk and the taut muscle beneath. He sits back, a warm, hardening weight against Jim’s hips.
“I like the shirt,” Blair says, palms running over soft white cotton and hard nipples, then up Jim’s arms until they are splayed above his head, elbows loose and wrists crossed. Blair’s eyes change as he looks at Jim, the pupils growing darker in the setting sun’s light.
“I like… how you look.” He curls Jim’s fingers around the railing behind the bed, and his voice drops to a low whisper. “Like this.” Blair lifts one hand to finger Jim’s tie, and Jim’s throat tightens.
He swallows hard.
“Then tie me up,” he whispers.
With a half-smile Blair releases Jim’s wrists and sits back, reaching out to loosen the knot at Jim’s throat. Jim tries to help, tangling their fingers and the slippery fabric, and all at once he is remembering a different evening, not too long ago, when they were running late and he had grown impatient. He’d watched Blair struggle with his tie until finally he had eased up behind him to take striped silk into his hands and Blair into his arms.
Now Blair takes Jim’s hands and gently pushes them back over his head before moving back to Jim’s tie. Jim grins up at him and Blair smiles back, wondering.
“You’re not good with ties,” Jim says, and watches Blair remember that other night, too.
“So you tied it for me,” Blair says, slightly indignant at the thought.
“I was tired of waiting. And you didn’t seem to mind. You kissed me.”
“I was tired of waiting, too,” Blair murmurs.
Jim can’t answer that because Blair is finally sliding silk free of cotton and leaning over to wind the smooth binding around Jim’s wrists and the railing behind.
“Too tight?” Blair asks softly, face close and breath shallow against Jim’s cheek. He feels Blair’s fingers run gently over tender skin, quick to soothe an imagined hurt.
Jim doesn’t trust his voice so he shakes his head slightly, then catches his breath when Blair settles beside him, reaching out to trace his profile with one finger.
“I love looking at you,” Blair tells him, seemingly fascinated by the line of Jim’s forehead and the slope of his nose.
Jim turns his head to look at Blair, licking his lips to answer, but finds Blair’s fingertips pressed against his mouth instead. He understands he’s not to speak, so he touches his tongue briefly to Blair’s fingers and watches Blair’s eyes change.
All at once Blair is moving, rising over Jim to straddle his hips, thighs warm against Jim’s sides. Jim waits for Blair to touch him again, but Blair is reaching for the buttons of his own shirt.
Jim watches as Blair slips each button free in a slow strip-tease Jim has never seen before, because usually he uses his own impatient hands to undress Blair. He stares at the vee of smooth skin and soft hair, remembering the exact texture of both, but it isn’t until Blair’s shirt slips off one smooth shoulder that Jim forgets and tries to reach. He loves Blair’s shoulders, the hard curves that fit perfectly into his palms, the strength that Blair hides beneath loose flannel. Now Jim feels like it is his secret, too.
Jim watches Blair shrug out of his shirt and drop it to the floor, but when Blair’s hands move to the closure of his jeans Jim shakes his head, once, pleading. If he has to watch Blair undress completely in the long, teasing shadows -- if he has to lie immobile and feel Blair naked and moving over his own fully clothed body – he’s afraid that just the idea could end this game far too quickly.
“Sandburg, give me a break,” he whispers weakly, and Blair’s slow smile shows Jim that he understands. But instead of stopping with the button undone and the zipper open, Blair eases off the bed, sliding denim and cotton down his thighs and letting it fall. Jim has only a moment to take in Blair’s body, a puzzle he is still learning, before the bed dips beneath Blair’s weight and Blair is leaning over him, looking down at him from close inches away.
Blair’s gaze is a touch, intimate and sure, and Jim wonders what he sees.
He closes his eyes when Blair begins brushing kisses over his face. Jim feels soft, lingering touches that caress cheekbone and brow, jaw line and temple – gently tormenting until Jim has no choice but to follow Blair’s mouth, turning to catch Blair’s next kiss on his lips. He feels Blair’s hesitation just before Blair sinks down, drinking deep. Jim takes Blair’s tongue into his mouth, stroking with gentle suction until he feels Blair shudder, until Blair pulls back and whispers unevenly, “Not fair.”
“Who’s tied up here?” Jim counters, feeling breathless himself. Blair’s answer is unintelligible, murmured into the soft hollow beneath Jim’s ear as Blair cradles Jim’s head in his palms.
Jim closes his eyes and feels himself go weak beneath Blair’s assault on his neck – first a soft scrape of teeth, then a soothing lick, then sudden, searing heat as Blair pulls hard, marking Jim’s throat and sending sharp pleasure arrowing downward. He can feel the warmth of Blair’s bare chest through the thin cotton of his own shirt, the firm weight of Blair’s legs twined with his own, the hard heat of Blair’s cock pressing into his hip.
The answering urgency in his own body makes him rub his cheek against Blair’s hair and turn his hips, seeking friction, but Blair pulls away to move down Jim’s chest, leaving Jim moaning softly.
Looking down, Jim focuses on Blair’s fingers moving over the buttons of his dress-shirt, slipping each one free before he presses deep, open-mouthed kisses on the skin he reveals. Feeling dazed, Jim watches Blair’s mouth, as he has always watched Blair’s mouth, even before he ever imagined he would crave the touch of it against his body. Even at first, when he almost resented Blair for being the only one who could pull him out of the dark places his senses took him, he’d studied Blair’s mouth and the way it shaped words. He’d studied it as one would study any necessary, possibly dangerous object.
When that mouth reaches the waistband of Jim’s pants Blair lifts his head, smiles at Jim, and sits up to slide the ends of Jim’s shirt free. The soft drag of fabric over his erection is enough to make Jim moan and writhe upward, missing the contact of Blair’s body. Blair swallows as he pulls Jim’s shirt open, his expression hungry, and Jim strains forward, aching to be touched.
“Please…” Jim whispers, and Blair’s breathing hitches. Jim feels Blair’s hands, finally Blair’s hands, rough and warm, stroking upward once from waist to shoulder, then harshly across Jim’s raised arms, pulling the shirt up to pool over his tied wrists and baring his upper body completely. Jim feels Blair’s fingertips slipping back down to trace the contours of his muscles, skimming over his arms and shoulders, the smooth planes of his chest and then Blair’s nails are scratching softly over his nipples before settling at his waist.
“So beautiful…” Blair’s words are just breath and Jim can’t respond because all at once he is swamped by emotion on top of sensation, choking him from inside. Jim has always been satisfied with his body, with what it can do and the pleasure it can give, but no one has ever, ever made him feel like this – cherished, worshiped and somehow worthy of it.
“Blair,” he whispers, making Blair look up and meet his eyes. Jim knows his emotions are plain on his face, naked and exposed, but he doesn’t care. Somehow with Blair here, in the bed and the life they share, he has no more need for restraint.
Swiftly Blair leans forward, touching his forehead to Jim’s, and for a few seconds they lie like that, breathing together. Blair sits back again, his hands shaking slightly as he loosens Jim’s belt, pulling the leather free of the loops in one motion. He looks briefly at the belt and then at Jim, and then they are both laughing until Blair tosses the belt away, murmuring, “Maybe next time.”
The slight pressure against his groin as Blair’s hands open clasp and zipper isn’t nearly enough. He pushes up into the touch, and then there is cool air and less restriction and the slow slide of fabric down his legs.
“God, Jim…” Blair whispers and reaches out to run a single fingertip from the base of Jim’s throat to the base of his cock, making every muscle in between quiver with anticipation, making Jim want to scream. He closes his eyes and tries to keep it in, but he can’t stay silent, can’t lie still, because suddenly Blair is tracing the underside of his erection, circling the weeping tip with a whisper’s worth of pressure, just enough to tear incoherent sounds from Jim’s lips.
Bare from thigh to wrist, bound by wool and silk, with Blair kneeling naked above him like a tantalizing shadow just out of reach, Jim wonders why he ever agreed to this, why he ever thought that torture would be fun. Jim arches his body, wanting to free himself, but the tie is too tight and the movement just makes Blair groan.
But now Blair is caressing him, kissing him, finally touching him in a suffusion of sensations that will overwhelm him if he isn’t careful. Soft mouth and wet tongue, stroking fingers and seeking hands that touch him everywhere at once; his chest, his hips, his thighs, his stomach, as Blair works his pants the rest of the way down his legs.
Blair pulls impatiently at pants, boxers, socks, shoes until Jim is naked with Blair between his legs, teasing the insides of his thighs with soft bites that make his legs feel weak. Then, finally, finally, Blair’s mouth is almost where he wants it, hot breath against his cock, before one slow lick from root to tip.
“Your mouth,” Jim grates out. “I need your mouth.”
Blair gives it to him, suddenly generous, engulfing him in wet heat and gentle suction while Jim moans and tries to keep his hips still. Blair’s mouth is heaven but it isn’t enough, not close to enough. He never realized how much he enjoys touching. He wants to fist his hands in Blair’s hair, to put his hands and his mouth all over Blair’s body, possessing what he has come to consider his.
“God…just let me touch you,” he whispers. Blair lets him slip from his mouth, laying kisses against the sensitive skin he’s soaked.
“Soon,” Blair whispers, not lifting his head as he reaches out for the tube they keep beside the bed, almost empty now.
“You’re trying to kill me,” he chokes, and feels Blair smile against the skin of his stomach, feels his muscles jump in response to the loving caress of lips and tongue. As Blair mouths him his fingers trail over Jim’s abdomen, then skim lower, cool and slick. He slips his hand beneath Jim’s body and presses gently, circling, rubbing, until Jim loses patience and pushes down, stifling a moan as he takes Blair in. This is what he wants, what he’s always wanted; Blair inside him, filling him, completing him.
Blair isn’t calm anymore, isn’t playful - Jim can feel his urgency like he feels his own, and nearly shouts when Blair takes him into his mouth again, deeper this time, letting the muscles of his throat bring Jim to the edge. It’s too much – Jim is caught between Blair’s hand and Blair’s mouth and he can’t think, he can’t breathe anymore.
“Untie me.” He forces the words out, hearing the unfamiliar rasp of his own voice.
At Jim’s strangled words Blair slides up Jim’s body to kiss him. Jim moves quickly, catching Blair’s lower lip in his teeth. He meets Blair’s dark eyes, the gentle bite a warning, before he sucks softly on Blair’s lip and releases it.
“Untie me,” he says again, surprised at how desperate he sounds. After a moment Blair nods, eyes unfocused. His fingers fumble at the knot through the folds of Jim’s discarded shirt, his movements suddenly clumsy, but he finally pulls the tie loose, the shirt free. The moment Jim feels the pressure on his wrists loosen he surges up, pinning Blair, engulfing Blair, wanting only to finish this, just finish this before wanting makes him insane.
He rolls until Blair is beneath him, until he has Blair’s bare skin and hard muscle under his hands and under his body. He touches Blair roughly, sating himself on every hard curve and long line, reveling in the fact that he can turn Blair incoherent with sensation. Before Blair can recover or even begin to touch him back, Jim looms up on his knees. In one sinking motion he takes Blair deep into his body and watches Blair arch beneath him, coming up on his elbows with his head thrown back, eyes closed as if in pain.
He craves this now, this joining, this hot fullness that radiates pleasure through his body. After just a few weeks he has learned to love the motions that feel like dancing, the give and take, and he is grateful; grateful for his vision that lets him see clearly the rhythmic, sinuous movement of Blair’s body beneath him, even though the sky is now almost completely dark.
Then Blair is pushing himself up to wrap his arms around Jim’s back and press his legs into Jim’s sides so that Jim is surrounded by Blair, inside and out, and when Blair reaches between them he doesn’t even try to hold himself back. He lets the shock of it scatter him into pieces, lets his mind go so that he barely registers Blair shuddering beneath him, breathing harshly into his chest.
He doesn’t remember collapsing down onto the mattress, tangled up in wrinkled blankets and discarded clothing, all tumbled together in the darkness. He doesn’t remember another time in his life when the world seemed as limitless and promising as it does right now.
They are both breathing hard, and Jim reaches out to where Blair is lying beside him and places his hand on Blair’s chest. Soon he will tell Blair everything he feels, and it will be as easy as feeling Blair’s heart beat against his palm.
But not yet.
For now it’s enough to lie here and let the silence and the darkness hold them both. It’s enough to have Blair’s hand cover his own and to feel grateful to have finally reached a place where he doesn’t need to hold anything back.
End
Title: Restraint
Fandom: Sentinel
Pairing: J/B
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Bondage, but if it were ice cream it would be vanilla. Possibly with caramel.
Notes: I've been trying to finish this for months. *g* Deep gratitude to
sori1773 and mab_browne for encouragement and the most kick-ass beta ever. I desperately needed you guys. *hugs*Summary: Jim. Blair. Bed. Railing. Tie. Angst-free, with a staggering lack of plot.
Restraint by Audra Rose
Jim loves the days that he has to spend in court. Like some kind of reward for the hours of restless boredom he gets to come home to Blair – Blair, who never lets him get past loosening his tie before they are somehow on the bed, touching each other in the golden early-evening light.
“Why?” he asks on this night, whispering the words into Blair’s mouth. “Not that I’m complaining…”
Then Blair is turning him, rolling with him until he can feel Blair’s weight all along the length of his body; until he can see Blair lean back to smile at him, that private smile that always sends slow tendrils of lust down his spine.
“I like the tie,” Blair says, fingers skating over blue silk and the taut muscle beneath. He sits back, a warm, hardening weight against Jim’s hips.
“I like the shirt,” Blair says, palms running over soft white cotton and hard nipples, then up Jim’s arms until they are splayed above his head, elbows loose and wrists crossed. Blair’s eyes change as he looks at Jim, the pupils growing darker in the setting sun’s light.
“I like… how you look.” He curls Jim’s fingers around the railing behind the bed, and his voice drops to a low whisper. “Like this.” Blair lifts one hand to finger Jim’s tie, and Jim’s throat tightens.
He swallows hard.
“Then tie me up,” he whispers.
With a half-smile Blair releases Jim’s wrists and sits back, reaching out to loosen the knot at Jim’s throat. Jim tries to help, tangling their fingers and the slippery fabric, and all at once he is remembering a different evening, not too long ago, when they were running late and he had grown impatient. He’d watched Blair struggle with his tie until finally he had eased up behind him to take striped silk into his hands and Blair into his arms.
Now Blair takes Jim’s hands and gently pushes them back over his head before moving back to Jim’s tie. Jim grins up at him and Blair smiles back, wondering.
“You’re not good with ties,” Jim says, and watches Blair remember that other night, too.
“So you tied it for me,” Blair says, slightly indignant at the thought.
“I was tired of waiting. And you didn’t seem to mind. You kissed me.”
“I was tired of waiting, too,” Blair murmurs.
Jim can’t answer that because Blair is finally sliding silk free of cotton and leaning over to wind the smooth binding around Jim’s wrists and the railing behind.
“Too tight?” Blair asks softly, face close and breath shallow against Jim’s cheek. He feels Blair’s fingers run gently over tender skin, quick to soothe an imagined hurt.
Jim doesn’t trust his voice so he shakes his head slightly, then catches his breath when Blair settles beside him, reaching out to trace his profile with one finger.
“I love looking at you,” Blair tells him, seemingly fascinated by the line of Jim’s forehead and the slope of his nose.
Jim turns his head to look at Blair, licking his lips to answer, but finds Blair’s fingertips pressed against his mouth instead. He understands he’s not to speak, so he touches his tongue briefly to Blair’s fingers and watches Blair’s eyes change.
All at once Blair is moving, rising over Jim to straddle his hips, thighs warm against Jim’s sides. Jim waits for Blair to touch him again, but Blair is reaching for the buttons of his own shirt.
Jim watches as Blair slips each button free in a slow strip-tease Jim has never seen before, because usually he uses his own impatient hands to undress Blair. He stares at the vee of smooth skin and soft hair, remembering the exact texture of both, but it isn’t until Blair’s shirt slips off one smooth shoulder that Jim forgets and tries to reach. He loves Blair’s shoulders, the hard curves that fit perfectly into his palms, the strength that Blair hides beneath loose flannel. Now Jim feels like it is his secret, too.
Jim watches Blair shrug out of his shirt and drop it to the floor, but when Blair’s hands move to the closure of his jeans Jim shakes his head, once, pleading. If he has to watch Blair undress completely in the long, teasing shadows -- if he has to lie immobile and feel Blair naked and moving over his own fully clothed body – he’s afraid that just the idea could end this game far too quickly.
“Sandburg, give me a break,” he whispers weakly, and Blair’s slow smile shows Jim that he understands. But instead of stopping with the button undone and the zipper open, Blair eases off the bed, sliding denim and cotton down his thighs and letting it fall. Jim has only a moment to take in Blair’s body, a puzzle he is still learning, before the bed dips beneath Blair’s weight and Blair is leaning over him, looking down at him from close inches away.
Blair’s gaze is a touch, intimate and sure, and Jim wonders what he sees.
He closes his eyes when Blair begins brushing kisses over his face. Jim feels soft, lingering touches that caress cheekbone and brow, jaw line and temple – gently tormenting until Jim has no choice but to follow Blair’s mouth, turning to catch Blair’s next kiss on his lips. He feels Blair’s hesitation just before Blair sinks down, drinking deep. Jim takes Blair’s tongue into his mouth, stroking with gentle suction until he feels Blair shudder, until Blair pulls back and whispers unevenly, “Not fair.”
“Who’s tied up here?” Jim counters, feeling breathless himself. Blair’s answer is unintelligible, murmured into the soft hollow beneath Jim’s ear as Blair cradles Jim’s head in his palms.
Jim closes his eyes and feels himself go weak beneath Blair’s assault on his neck – first a soft scrape of teeth, then a soothing lick, then sudden, searing heat as Blair pulls hard, marking Jim’s throat and sending sharp pleasure arrowing downward. He can feel the warmth of Blair’s bare chest through the thin cotton of his own shirt, the firm weight of Blair’s legs twined with his own, the hard heat of Blair’s cock pressing into his hip.
The answering urgency in his own body makes him rub his cheek against Blair’s hair and turn his hips, seeking friction, but Blair pulls away to move down Jim’s chest, leaving Jim moaning softly.
Looking down, Jim focuses on Blair’s fingers moving over the buttons of his dress-shirt, slipping each one free before he presses deep, open-mouthed kisses on the skin he reveals. Feeling dazed, Jim watches Blair’s mouth, as he has always watched Blair’s mouth, even before he ever imagined he would crave the touch of it against his body. Even at first, when he almost resented Blair for being the only one who could pull him out of the dark places his senses took him, he’d studied Blair’s mouth and the way it shaped words. He’d studied it as one would study any necessary, possibly dangerous object.
When that mouth reaches the waistband of Jim’s pants Blair lifts his head, smiles at Jim, and sits up to slide the ends of Jim’s shirt free. The soft drag of fabric over his erection is enough to make Jim moan and writhe upward, missing the contact of Blair’s body. Blair swallows as he pulls Jim’s shirt open, his expression hungry, and Jim strains forward, aching to be touched.
“Please…” Jim whispers, and Blair’s breathing hitches. Jim feels Blair’s hands, finally Blair’s hands, rough and warm, stroking upward once from waist to shoulder, then harshly across Jim’s raised arms, pulling the shirt up to pool over his tied wrists and baring his upper body completely. Jim feels Blair’s fingertips slipping back down to trace the contours of his muscles, skimming over his arms and shoulders, the smooth planes of his chest and then Blair’s nails are scratching softly over his nipples before settling at his waist.
“So beautiful…” Blair’s words are just breath and Jim can’t respond because all at once he is swamped by emotion on top of sensation, choking him from inside. Jim has always been satisfied with his body, with what it can do and the pleasure it can give, but no one has ever, ever made him feel like this – cherished, worshiped and somehow worthy of it.
“Blair,” he whispers, making Blair look up and meet his eyes. Jim knows his emotions are plain on his face, naked and exposed, but he doesn’t care. Somehow with Blair here, in the bed and the life they share, he has no more need for restraint.
Swiftly Blair leans forward, touching his forehead to Jim’s, and for a few seconds they lie like that, breathing together. Blair sits back again, his hands shaking slightly as he loosens Jim’s belt, pulling the leather free of the loops in one motion. He looks briefly at the belt and then at Jim, and then they are both laughing until Blair tosses the belt away, murmuring, “Maybe next time.”
The slight pressure against his groin as Blair’s hands open clasp and zipper isn’t nearly enough. He pushes up into the touch, and then there is cool air and less restriction and the slow slide of fabric down his legs.
“God, Jim…” Blair whispers and reaches out to run a single fingertip from the base of Jim’s throat to the base of his cock, making every muscle in between quiver with anticipation, making Jim want to scream. He closes his eyes and tries to keep it in, but he can’t stay silent, can’t lie still, because suddenly Blair is tracing the underside of his erection, circling the weeping tip with a whisper’s worth of pressure, just enough to tear incoherent sounds from Jim’s lips.
Bare from thigh to wrist, bound by wool and silk, with Blair kneeling naked above him like a tantalizing shadow just out of reach, Jim wonders why he ever agreed to this, why he ever thought that torture would be fun. Jim arches his body, wanting to free himself, but the tie is too tight and the movement just makes Blair groan.
But now Blair is caressing him, kissing him, finally touching him in a suffusion of sensations that will overwhelm him if he isn’t careful. Soft mouth and wet tongue, stroking fingers and seeking hands that touch him everywhere at once; his chest, his hips, his thighs, his stomach, as Blair works his pants the rest of the way down his legs.
Blair pulls impatiently at pants, boxers, socks, shoes until Jim is naked with Blair between his legs, teasing the insides of his thighs with soft bites that make his legs feel weak. Then, finally, finally, Blair’s mouth is almost where he wants it, hot breath against his cock, before one slow lick from root to tip.
“Your mouth,” Jim grates out. “I need your mouth.”
Blair gives it to him, suddenly generous, engulfing him in wet heat and gentle suction while Jim moans and tries to keep his hips still. Blair’s mouth is heaven but it isn’t enough, not close to enough. He never realized how much he enjoys touching. He wants to fist his hands in Blair’s hair, to put his hands and his mouth all over Blair’s body, possessing what he has come to consider his.
“God…just let me touch you,” he whispers. Blair lets him slip from his mouth, laying kisses against the sensitive skin he’s soaked.
“Soon,” Blair whispers, not lifting his head as he reaches out for the tube they keep beside the bed, almost empty now.
“You’re trying to kill me,” he chokes, and feels Blair smile against the skin of his stomach, feels his muscles jump in response to the loving caress of lips and tongue. As Blair mouths him his fingers trail over Jim’s abdomen, then skim lower, cool and slick. He slips his hand beneath Jim’s body and presses gently, circling, rubbing, until Jim loses patience and pushes down, stifling a moan as he takes Blair in. This is what he wants, what he’s always wanted; Blair inside him, filling him, completing him.
Blair isn’t calm anymore, isn’t playful - Jim can feel his urgency like he feels his own, and nearly shouts when Blair takes him into his mouth again, deeper this time, letting the muscles of his throat bring Jim to the edge. It’s too much – Jim is caught between Blair’s hand and Blair’s mouth and he can’t think, he can’t breathe anymore.
“Untie me.” He forces the words out, hearing the unfamiliar rasp of his own voice.
At Jim’s strangled words Blair slides up Jim’s body to kiss him. Jim moves quickly, catching Blair’s lower lip in his teeth. He meets Blair’s dark eyes, the gentle bite a warning, before he sucks softly on Blair’s lip and releases it.
“Untie me,” he says again, surprised at how desperate he sounds. After a moment Blair nods, eyes unfocused. His fingers fumble at the knot through the folds of Jim’s discarded shirt, his movements suddenly clumsy, but he finally pulls the tie loose, the shirt free. The moment Jim feels the pressure on his wrists loosen he surges up, pinning Blair, engulfing Blair, wanting only to finish this, just finish this before wanting makes him insane.
He rolls until Blair is beneath him, until he has Blair’s bare skin and hard muscle under his hands and under his body. He touches Blair roughly, sating himself on every hard curve and long line, reveling in the fact that he can turn Blair incoherent with sensation. Before Blair can recover or even begin to touch him back, Jim looms up on his knees. In one sinking motion he takes Blair deep into his body and watches Blair arch beneath him, coming up on his elbows with his head thrown back, eyes closed as if in pain.
He craves this now, this joining, this hot fullness that radiates pleasure through his body. After just a few weeks he has learned to love the motions that feel like dancing, the give and take, and he is grateful; grateful for his vision that lets him see clearly the rhythmic, sinuous movement of Blair’s body beneath him, even though the sky is now almost completely dark.
Then Blair is pushing himself up to wrap his arms around Jim’s back and press his legs into Jim’s sides so that Jim is surrounded by Blair, inside and out, and when Blair reaches between them he doesn’t even try to hold himself back. He lets the shock of it scatter him into pieces, lets his mind go so that he barely registers Blair shuddering beneath him, breathing harshly into his chest.
He doesn’t remember collapsing down onto the mattress, tangled up in wrinkled blankets and discarded clothing, all tumbled together in the darkness. He doesn’t remember another time in his life when the world seemed as limitless and promising as it does right now.
They are both breathing hard, and Jim reaches out to where Blair is lying beside him and places his hand on Blair’s chest. Soon he will tell Blair everything he feels, and it will be as easy as feeling Blair’s heart beat against his palm.
But not yet.
For now it’s enough to lie here and let the silence and the darkness hold them both. It’s enough to have Blair’s hand cover his own and to feel grateful to have finally reached a place where he doesn’t need to hold anything back.
End