It's not the way Blair goes to his knees in a quick rush, hands grabbing, mouth spilling sounds not words.
It's not the gratifying moan of appreciation he gives when Jim's dick has been ruthlessly dragged out, a scant few seconds before it hardens enough to make Blair's eager impatience hazardous, or the lick-slap of tongue that follows.
It's not the way Blair slows when Jim's hand cradles the back of his neck and squeezes it gently, firmly, or the way he glances up with an acquiescent flicker of eyelashes when Jim hooks a thumb in Blair's mouth and widens it with a tug.
It's the kiss that started it all Jim remembers later. The one he gave Blair when he walked through the door after a week away, given before a single word's been said, before Blair's smile has had time to curve his lips fully.
The one that let him believe Blair's really there because he's dreamed about him every single fucking night but woken to loneliness.
Sweet, hot kiss, with Blair so damn happy to be back…Coming in Blair's mouth, drenching it with Jim's scent and taste, leaving those smiling lips chafed tender, rubbed red; that's good, Jim loves doing it, Blair loves having it done --
But the kiss was better.
Jim ground salt into the stew in a shower of white and remembered he hadn't added the bay leaf. He turned and Blair was right there at his elbow holding one, the flat sheen of green bright against Blair's red shirt. He took it and, without thinking, dotted a kiss on Blair's nose. "Thanks, Chief."
Blair wrinkled his nose and went momentarily cross-eyed squinting at it. "Jim, did you just kiss my nose?"
"Is that a problem?"
"That you have to ask is a problem, frankly. You just kissed my freaking nose, man. So not hygienic."
Jim rubbed his thumb across the kissed spot. "That get rid of the cooties?" he inquired dryly.
Blair huffed, indignant and cute, and then subsided. "I guess it works as a cootie-eraser."
Jim nodded and dropped the bay leaf into the pot. Worth a shot… "Would it still work if I kissed you somewhere else?"
He stirred the stew three times before Blair replied, his voice serious now.
"Are we talking a different place, like, not here in the loft, or a different place on me?"
Blair leaned back against the counter. "Okay, let me make sure we're on the same page here. You kiss me… and then rub your hand over it? And it's like it didn't happen?"
Jim considered that and shrugged. Good enough. "Sure."
Blair exhaled. "I can see that working really well."
Jim turned the heat down under the stew and let it simmer slowly. "Then tell me where you want the first one."
He watched the emphatic, expected, predictable point of Blair's finger, smiled, shrugged, and knelt.
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