Jim froze in place, a crucial few inches away from being fully, completely balls-deep in Blair. This aroused, this aware of every tremor running through Blair's body, every hitched breath as Blair tried to hold back the moans that would bring Jim to climax too soon for both of them, nothing short of the roof falling in should have been able to distract him, but something had.
"Jim?" Blair shimmied impatiently, sending a shiver of lust through Jim, close to painful in its intensity, and glanced back over his shoulder, his face flushed, twisted with the echo of that last stifled whimper. "Onward and upward, man. You've got more to give me than that. Or did it shrink in the shower?"
Still straining to identify the source of his disquiet, Jim took a moment to bend low and bite the ass he was so close to nailing. His spine protested the action and so did Blair, whose involuntary jerk of the hips as Jim's teeth nipped sharply got him another inch or so of Jim's dick. Jim grunted with pleasure but forced himself to hold still. "Yeah, and you'll get it, but there's something… "
"What? What something? Are you zoning? Newsflash; I don't care. Fuck me now; zone later." Blair sounded demanding and pitiful at the same time and Jim hesitated, torn.
God, he wanted to do just that. Slide into Blair over and over, obeying every exhortation to go faster, harder, deeper, loving the feel of the warm, sweat-damp skin against his hands, breathing in the ripe, musky stink of two men who'd spent the afternoon in bed, teasing each other to the point where Jim's dick wasn't sure if it was in heaven or hell.
"I can't," he said reluctantly and pulled back an inch or two, until he was barely inside Blair. He couldn't make himself pull out entirely, but Blair lunged forward onto his stomach and then rolled to his back, clearly tired of waiting.
Sprawled out, his cock sticking up impudently, thick and juicy-tipped, making Jim's mouth water, Blair looked wanton, lewd, fuckable. Jim growled deep in his throat and reached for him, but the feeling returned, slamming into him like a fist.
"Animal, vegetable, mineral?" Blair snapped, reading Jim's hesitation like large print. "What sense is screwing with you screwing me?"
"Scent," Jim said without thinking about it, certainty filling him. "I can smell smoke."
"A fire? God, here in the building?" Blair sat up, his hair in disarray, a scatter of bite marks on his shoulder making Jim finger the matching ones on his chest, circling his nipples. They hurt, but -- yeah, they really hurt. Okay, they'd played rougher than usual, but Blair had seemed intent on driving Jim out of his mind and it'd only seemed fair to return the favor.
"Not that kind of smoke." Jim inhaled, shutting out everything but that elusive scent. "It's -- oh, God, cigar smoke!"
"Simon?" Blair's eyes widened. "Shit, yes, I forgot to tell you that he might drop by. You've got a sander he wants to borrow or something."
"He's building a table." Jim shrugged. "Don't know why."
"Let him buy his own fucking sander!" Blair snarled. He leaned over the side of the bed and scrabbled for his clothes, stripped from him by Jim and tossed to the floor, tangled by their feet as they kissed and swayed, hands roving over bared skin.
His position put Blair ass up again, legs waving wildly. Jim swallowed and ran his hand down his leg, needing to touch skin but knowing that if it was Blair's he wouldn't be able to stop. He watched Blair dump their clothes on the bed with a strong feeling of resentment directed at the approaching Simon.
"We could pretend we're not in." Blair paused midway through yanking on Jim's T-shirt -- possibly by mistake, more likely just to be annoying -- and peered up at him. "Lie low."
"He's got a key," Jim said gloomily, and began to dress with a speed the army had taught him. Blair's T-shirt was tight, but not unwearable, though the Save the Whales logo would make Simon blink. "For emergencies. And yes, needing a power tool counts as a crisis."
"I'm starting to think I need a power tool of my own," Blair said. "Three speeds. Ten inches."
Jim glared at him. "You get one, and I might buy some toys of my own. Like a gag."
That got him Blair licking his lips, his eyes bright with a challenging gleam, not-too-subtly reminding Jim of just how much Blair could do with his mouth when it wasn't gagged.
"You're not helping," Jim told him and stood to put on his jeans, an exercise in willpower if ever there was one.
Fully dressed, if rumpled, they waited on the couch. The scent of cigar smoke still curled around Jim's awareness, but it didn't seem to be getting stronger or fading. He exchanged a puzzled look with Blair, who shrugged, and then walked over to the open balcony doors.
On the street below, two men stood talking, one smoking a cigar. Neither of them were Simon.
Jim cleared his throat and shared the good news with Blair with no expectation that Blair would turn sunnyside up for him. He was right.
Five minutes later, after a hasty clean-up, his cock restored to life, his hands beginning to sweat as Blair applied a series of sadistically delicate licks to its head, his apologies were getting desperate.
"I'll let you test me," he offered. "Train me. Hours of tests, every day. Anything."
"Yeah," Blair murmured and finally positioned himself over Jim, guiding the head of Jim's cock to his hole with a sure, deft hand and sinking down on it. "You will. Trust me."
"Yeah…" Jim echoed, bliss enfolding him. One inch, two, snug and tight and slippery and hot…one inch, two… "Blair? More?"
Blair, thigh muscles standing out in sharp relief, held his position. "Feels good like this," he panted and gave a sinful, wicked twist of his hips that made Jim drive his teeth into his lip. "No need to be greedy."
Enough was enough. Jim reached out, grabbed Blair's cock and began to work it with a grim determination that only sweetened to a coaxing caress when a grinning Blair began to ride him, ending the teasing and talking, the waiting, anticipating…
Simon might arrive later, but Jim was coming now.
Return to Home
Click here if you'd like to send feedback