Point of Contact

Part Sixteen

by Jane Davitt


Many thanks to T Verano for beta reading this. This is the final part of the story but I plan a sequel in the future.


Blair got onto the bed with more grace than Jim would've expected and knelt on it, looking down at him with an expectancy Jim usually found tiresome in others. Being in charge all the time was hard work; he'd never understood why Simon got such a kick out of it.

And then he'd met Blair and realized that what had bored him was the false, fake control he'd exercised over a client, a paying, complaining, demanding customer. From the beginning, it had never been that way with Blair. It had been real.

That was an old kiss-off line, of course. 'Baby, what can I say? It's been real', as you walked out the door without looking back. The thought of doing that to Blair made Jim shiver as he pictured it vividly enough to make it hurt.

Jim had known subs who were hard work; ones who had issues, doubts, and needed months, even years of patient, careful handling to bring them to their full potential. Something told him all Blair needed was to make up his mind and once that had been done, he'd commit fully.

And when he did, Blair would look at Jim with clear, assessing eyes, and see no control, no dominance, no strength. Because when it came to Blair, all Jim had was a whole lot of good intentions that Blair seemed determined to fuck with.

It should have been so very goddamned simple; he was experienced to the point where he could've probably got Blair off those first times just by talking to him. And Blair was so green-grass-new, he'd have thanked Jim for doing it.

Blair wanted to be spanked; that wasn't news. The revelation for Jim was that when he spanked Blair that first time, he, as well as Blair, had gotten aroused to the point that he'd been shaking, his cock, as he'd remember until the day he fucking died, three strokes from coming after Blair had shot all over himself and Jim's skin-burned, oh so helpful hand.

Blair wanted to kneel, submit -- his own version of it, sure, but still -- and Jim had found that he wanted, with a fierce desperation, to be the one Blair submitted to.

Him. No one else. His.

So really, once Blair moved in, was there, in Jim's bed, naked, eager, both of them starting from scratch in some ways (don't tell, don't let Blair know that) it should have been so very fucking easy.

"What's wrong?" Blair asked. "What did I do?"

There. That. The uncertainty that lay at the heart of everything Blair did; that he wasn't good enough. Jim wanted to crush that doubt, obliterate it.

If he knew how to, he'd have been doing it from day one.

"Nothing," Jim told him. "I'm just admiring the view." Blair didn't blush, but his breath hitched, and as Jim watched, he put his shoulders back and turned his hands palm up where they rested on his thighs, offering himself silently.

Jim hummed an equally wordless approval and picked up one of Blair's hands, placing a kiss in the center of the palm and then over the beating pulse at the wrist. "The looks you were getting in these jeans…"

"I had a blindfold on, remember?" The retort was so very Blair, but Jim schooled his lips into a firm line before they could curve in a smile.

"I could see them," Jim told him. He kept Blair's hand in his, clasping it lightly. "I watched them stare at you and I watched them want you, and I think part of the reason I blindfolded you was so that you couldn't look back."

"All that the blindfold did was stop me looking at you."

Jim smiled then; had to, his possessiveness exposed, dismissed. "You can see me anytime."

Blair's gaze flicked meaningfully up and down. "Not as much as I'd like to."

"Oh, you want me naked?" Jim glanced down at his cock, sticking out, hopeful and hard. "I don't need to be any more naked than this to fuck you."

"Please?" Blair didn't make it flirtatious or a joke. "Jim? Please?"

So easy to give in, but instead he got his cock hidden behind a tugged up zipper -- it wasn't easy -- and said, "Earn it."

He watched wariness spark in Blair's eyes, the blue darkening. Wary, but intrigued. "Okay," Blair said cautiously. "How?"

"Every time I take something off, you put something on," Jim said.

Blair blinked. "You don't want me naked?"

"Oh, yeah, I most certainly do," Jim said. "In fact, you can lose the jeans now before you poke another hole in them with your dick." He was hard, but Blair had to be aching down there, his jeans a tight hand around all that needy flesh.

"I don't understa--" Blair caught himself. "I'm not supposed to ask questions, am I?"

"You are supposed to ask," Jim corrected him. "Anything you're not sure about, you ask, okay? But you're not supposed to argue and talk when you should be --"

"Obeying you." Blair nodded jerkily. "Right, got it. I get it. Okay. Jeans off."

"Wait," Jim said. He got up on his knees and pushed an unresisting -- mostly --Blair to his stomach. "Before you do, I've just got to… oh, God, yes. Your ass looks so fucking hot like this." He was going to tell Blair that whenever he thought it and keep telling him. Make him see himself as Jim saw him -- hell, as half the club saw him. "These bruises…" He traced one of the lines the crop had left, and then drew a fingernail over it. "Hurt?"

"Yes, but not there," Blair said, the words stifled. "Do it again and I might come just to relieve the pressure."

Jim spanked him, a light, crisp slap. "Don't."

"Not helping."

Jim watched the faint pink mark rise, dim and fleeting, and smiled. "No shit. But I want to do this, and you need to learn some control or I'm going to get frustrated and you're going to miss out." He slapped Blair's ass again, just to watch the need rip through Blair in a visible, yearning shudder. Nice. After one final caress, half his hand touching denim, half skin, he peeled the jeans off Blair and tossed them away.

Blair settled back onto his stomach after arching up to make the removal of his jeans easier. Naked, the marks on his ass stood out sharply, dark against the pale skin. Jim felt as if he could lose himself in staring at them, mapping the gradual deepening of color and the roughened skin.

He smoothed his hand over Blair's back, down to his ass, and did it again and again until Blair was trembling, anticipating a blow that wasn't going to come.

"Sit up," Jim said eventually. "Let's get you dressed and me stripped."

Blair visibly swallowed a question and Jim rewarded him with a kiss, Blair's avid response making it last longer than he'd intended. When he broke away, Blair made a small, desperate sound of loss and then bit down on his lip.

"I'm not going far," Jim told him, grinning at the way being teased wiped the lost look from Blair's face.

He knew exactly where everything was; the club was arranged that way. The décor differed, but the supplies were always in the same place. He got what he wanted, after a quick tally of what he was wearing, and tossed it all onto the bed. Blair's eyes widened and then, which Jim found interesting, he relaxed.

"So…" Jim shrugged out of his jacket. "One." He hung his jacket over a chair and went to stand by the bed. Blair shifted position so that he was facing the foot of the bed, his knee touching Jim's leg. "I'm going to count your collar as one."

"Don't," Blair said, the response too quick to be anything but involuntary. Jim raised his eyebrows in a silent question. "It's not -- I don't want it to be something I'm wearing. Something that can get put on and taken off. I want it to be part of me. And, yeah, I know it's got to come off when we leave, but can we just -- while we're here --?

Jim bent down and kissed Blair's throat, slow, hard kisses that made Blair moan and tip his head back into the waiting cup of Jim's hand. "Yeah," Jim said, letting the words soak into skin because he didn't want to take his mouth away. "You can. We can."

Blair put his hand on Jim's shoulder and pushed him away, just enough that he could stare into Jim's eyes. "Can we do something else?"

He'd thought Blair would like what he had planned, but he was too used to being flexible with indecisive clients to feel even a fleeting impatience at a change of plan. And this was Blair; if he wasn't happy, Jim wanted to know about it. "Such as?"

"This game --" Blair gestured at what Jim had put on the bed. Cuffs and chains, clamps and condoms... "It's going to take too long and I'm not going to make it. Look at me, Jim. Tell me you if you think I will and I'll try, but I'm naked, in a collar -- in your collar -- and God, the things you've been doing to me --"

"What are you saying?"

Blair gave a frustrated whimper and punched Jim in the shoulder, hard enough to hurt. "I'm saying fuck me. I'm saying I want this, all of it, yes, the games, the teasing, but not right now. Now, all I want is you, in me, God, please, please, Jim, please, fuck me, please, just --"

Jim put his hand over Blair's mouth but he could feel Blair shaping the words against his palm and it was too much, just as it had always been too much from the first night they'd met. Blair jerked his head free and wrapped his arms around Jim, pulling him down onto the bed on top of him. They kissed in messy, clumsy bumps of mouth on mouth, both of them working to get Jim out of his clothes. Blair was making the kind of sounds Jim usually only heard from someone he was fucking, guttural, disconnected, unbearably arousing. Jim was echoing them, something he didn't realize at first, and when he did, he didn't care.

They had their hands all over each other, like a pair of fucking teenagers, and Jim couldn't get enough, couldn't get close enough -- He was on top of Blair now, that strong solid body plastered against his, writhing against his, Blair's cock a hard, wet-tipped heat digging into his belly.

He bit Blair, rough, reckless love bites, all teeth and suck, and it wasn't enough, either, though the red marks the bites left helped. Blair's fingernails were leaving stinging scoremarks over Jim's back and ass, and that hurt, but it didn't hurt enough for him to want Blair to stop.

"In me," Blair panted. "Please. God, if it was me fucking you, I wouldn't make you wait." He froze, his gaze meeting Jim's. "I don't mean I want to -- I don't expect you to let me --"

Jim licked the hollow of Blair's throat until the skin glittered wet. "Don't you? Better start."

"You want that? Me fucking you?" Jim didn't think that surprise was putting that quiver into Blair's voice. Too many memories of women telling him in a dozen subtle ways that he hadn't made them happy when he fucked them.

Well, that was easy to deal with.

"I want everything from you, Blair, which shouldn't be news, and yes, that includes this --" he reached down and ran a single finger tip up the straining length of Blair's cock, "in me. But you can forget about being kind, because that won't be your call."

"Huh?" Was that relief? Probably. One day, he was going to track down each and every woman Blair had slept with and -- Blair moved under him and moaned and he realized the finger had become his hand, stroking, squeezing. He moved it to Blair's hip instead.

"I'm going to tie you to the bed and if that doesn’t get you hard, I'll use my mouth on you until you are. Then I'll kneel across you and put you in me, inch by inch, and you'll be begging me to hurry just as much as you're begging me now. And if your ass lifts up off that bed an inch, a single fucking inch, I'll stop." He watched Blair's eyes widen. Oh, yeah. Blair liked that idea. Good, because Jim felt dizzy at the thought of it. God, the things he was going to order Blair to do to him…the way Blair would look and sound lying under him, ordered not to move as Jim took him, used him, Blair's cock in him so deep Jim would feel the ache and burn for hours after. "But not tonight." He slid down the bed and sucked hard on the tip of Blair's cock just to hear that wail tear free of Blair's throat, just to taste him. "No more waiting," he promised and rolled Blair to his stomach. "Spread your legs," he said, the words a tightness in his throat. "I want you."

He would have felt vulnerable positioned like that, but there was only trust in the glance Blair gave him. Blair gathered a pillow up in his arms, and clutched it to him. With the wild tangle of hair falling to shield Blair's face, Jim had to read Blair's state of mind through the flex of muscles in his back and ass and the way his breathing became hurried. He put his hand on Blair's hip. "It hurts, you tell me. There's never going to be a moment when it's too late for me to stop."

He felt calmer now, the rush of lust receding, replaced by an all encompassing tenderness. He still wanted to make Blair scream, but the need to take this part slowly came first.

He caught himself just as he began to tear a condom open. "Blair… you're clean?"

"You know I am. Jim, didn't we talk about this?"

Blair sounded endearingly testy. Jim kept any amusement out of his voice and ran a lube-slick finger over Blair's asshole. "Here, I mean," he said gently. "I don't want it to get… messy."

Blair sighed. "You're never going to let me forget that, are you?"

"I'll forget it when I'm sure it's not an issue with you anymore."

Blair banged his head against the pillow three times and groaned in what sounded like mortification. "Yes, Jim, I found the supplies in the bathroom cabinet, just where you told me they were. Yes, I read the instructions before I used the kit. Yes, I'm now squeaky clean, inside and out." He buried his head in the pillow, his word muffled. "If my ass was a floor, you could eat your fucking dinner off it. Are we done here?"

Interesting choice of words. Jim stroked over the whorled skin without pressing inward and then split Blair's ass wide with a palm on each cheek and his thumbs deep inside the cleft. He had time for one kiss, tasting lube and skin, nothing else, and one lick, before Blair turned into a flail of arms and legs, kicking out and scrambling up the bed. He turned, the pillow still against his chest like a security blanket, his eyes wide and shocked. "What the hell was that?"

"Blair…" Jim shook his head. "I'm prepared to believe it's not something you've ever done or had done to you, but not that you've never heard of it."

"I have, yes, of course, I have, I just wasn't expecting --"

"You weren't?" Jim licked his lips very deliberately. "Good enough to eat off? That wasn't a hint?"

"No!" Jim waited. "Maybe." Blair's gaze dropped. "But I didn't think you would!"

"Why wouldn't I?" Jim let his gaze travel over Blair. "I get turned on by you. All of you. All of you." He moved up the bed, kneeling between Blair's legs, and then leaned over and snagged an unscented wipe from a box on the nightstand. "Hold still."

"Why? What are you going to do? Hey!"

Jim wrapped a piece of the wipe around his middle finger and used his knee to push Blair's left leg out to the side. Blair began to struggle but he'd already moved up the bed as far as he could go; Jim bore down on Blair, pinning him with his weight and an arm, and pushed his finger an inch into Blair's ass.

Then he knelt back, fended off an enraged swipe from Blair's fist, and caught Blair's wrist when he tried again. He held up the clean wipe. "See? No mess." He waited for Blair's sullen nod and then tossed the wipe aside. "There's nothing I wouldn't do to give you pleasure, which you should damn well know by now. Rimming you would feel good and I'd enjoy doing it. If you don't want me to, that's fine, but I wanted to make sure you were saying no for the right reasons." He released Blair's wrist. "I want you back on your hands and knees. I'm going to fuck you, fingers first, then my cock. If you want my tongue as well, I won't even make you ask for it properly, though I damn well should. Just say 'yes'."

Blair rolled over in silence, his body stiff and tense, but when Jim rubbed his thumb over one of the welts on his ass, the tension left Blair's body in a shudder and he whispered it, then said it aloud, then added a 'please'.

And when Jim's tongue curled and flicked, demanding entrance, Blair cried out and sobbed with pleasure, his fingers scrabbling at the sheets, and he spread his knees wider.

Jim took his time, and stopped more because his back was aching than for any other reason. Blair was making breathy, incredulous whimpers, interspersed with Jim's name and a lot of approval. Jim got his tongue in as deep as he could, just to get one final, ecstatic moan from Blair, and then sat up and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Wait here," he said, and patted Blair's ass. "Or, no… roll over. I'm going to give you something to think about while I'm in the bathroom."

Blair sank to his stomach. "Can't move."

Jim made his next touch sting, grinning heartlessly as Blair yelped at the hard smack. He sorted through the supplies on the bed and took out two clamps. They would pinch more than Blair was used to, but they wouldn't be on for long. "Roll over, or I'll put these clamps on your balls."

"You wouldn't."

"I really would."

Blair sat up. "I couldn't do that to you," he said, as Jim fastened the clamps.

"Clamp my balls? Did I ask you to?"

"Rim you." Blair licked his lips nervously. "It -- ow! God, that -- ow!"

Jim flicked one of the clamps and watched Blair's cock jerk in response. He was actually a little surprised Blair hadn’t come from being rimmed, but from the state of Blair's cock; rigid, reddened, it had been close. "You can take it for a few minutes. And it's okay. You don't have to."

"You don't mind?" Blair looked nervous. Jim didn't like that.

"Blair, I do a lot of stuff to you that I don't want you to do to me. If rimming's on the list of things you don't want to do, well, it's on the list. End of story."

"But do you like it? When you're on the receiving end, I mean?" Blair persisted.

Jim shrugged. "Sure. Didn't you?"

He watched Blair swallow. "Oh, yeah," Blair said softly.

"That's all I need to know." Jim waved his hand at the bathroom door. "Now, unless you want those clamps on much longer, I'm going to go and brush my teeth, and, no, it's not because I didn't like doing it. I just want to kiss you without you flinching and I think you would."

"Yeah, I would," Blair admitted. "Can you floss, too? Maybe use some mouthwash?"

It took Jim entirely too long to see the gleam of amusement in Blair's eyes. "Oh, you're going to regret that later. You have no fucking idea how much."

Blair snickered. "I can take it." He glanced down at his nipples. "Not sure these can, though. These clamps hurt, Jim." He poked at one and sucked his breath in sharply.

Jim sighed, and walked back to the bed. Blair looked hopeful. "Are you going to take them off?"

Jim picked up one of the Velcro cuffs he liked using on Blair and used it to fasten Blair's wrists behind his back. "No. And neither are you."

Once in the bathroom, he closed the door and stared at his reflection in the mirror. He looked flushed and now that he was alone, he could let his uncertainty show. Blair was confusing the hell out of him. Sex, kink, love… Jim was prepared to give or offer any or all of them, but Blair didn't seem to know what he wanted and Jim just wasn't used to that.

He couldn't blame Blair.

He'd brought Blair to the club so that Blair could see what it was like, his fantasies in the flesh. He'd brought him here intending to keep Blair at heel, controlled. One single night of submission.

And Blair had seen very little, because from the moment the collar had gone around Blair's neck, Jim had wanted Blair kneeling just for him, breathing just for him, seeing only him. It was a miracle they'd even made it to the main room. He really didn't like people staring at Blair and they'd been staring, oh, yes, they fucking had.

He supposed he owed Blair an apology. They should be out there; he should be introducing Blair to people, letting him soak in the atmosphere; letting him watch a whip kiss skin, letting him have some fucking fun for once in his life. And instead, they were here in this room and he wasn't giving Blair what he'd promised he would.

Because he didn't know what Blair wanted. No cheat sheet, no instructions, no careful plan designed to maximize the client's pleasure and Jim's tip. Just Blair, hopeful, trusting, new.

"He's not a client, he's my -- he's mine," he said under his breath, and kept repeating it as he scrubbed at his teeth, after flossing just in case Blair had been serious. He spat out a mouthful of Listerine and rinsed with water to clear the mint taste away.

Then he said it again, his hand dropping to squeeze his balls in a rough, ungentle grip. "You're such a fucking idiot," he told his reflection, keeping his voice low. "And you're going to lose him."

He went back out and his steps slowed to a stop within three paces. He'd left Blair in an untidy sprawl on the bed, his face crumpled in as close as Blair got to a pout. In the time that he'd been away, Blair had gotten over his brief rebellion and was kneeling on the bed, head down, not facing the foot or the head, but sideways, his back to the bathroom door. His cuffed hands were curved, quiet, and his hair had fallen forward around his face just enough for the leather of his collar to be visible. Jim closed his eyes against a wave of longing so intense it robbed him of breath and thought.

Then he walked around the bed until he was facing Blair and brought Blair's chin up with a touch. Blair met Jim's eyes, his own gaze untroubled, clear, but didn't speak.

"What happened to you?" Jim asked in something close to a whisper. "When I was in there, what made you do this?"

Blair shook his head, his expression changing to one of pleading. It wasn't hard to translate: Don't make me talk.

Jim nodded. "Later, I'll want to know, but now…" He pressed the ball of his thumb against the hot skin around Blair's right nipple. "These are coming off." Blair made a movement that could have meant anything but looked like a protest. Jim didn't care. "No. They're distracting. I don't want you thinking about anything but me fucking you." He took one of the clamps off and knelt down on the floor so that his mouth was level with the pinched, punished flesh, licking the heat and hurt away. When both nipples were bare, red, and wet, he made Blair lean down and offer his lips for a kiss, running his tongue over Blair's. Mint overpowered the remembered taste of Blair's mouth. Okay. Not a kiss, or not there, anyway. He rested his folded arms across Blair's spread thighs and took as much of Blair's cock in his mouth as he could.

It broke Blair's silence, which was a pity, but inevitable. "Jim -- no! I'll come -- ah, God. God."

"I can't taste anything but fucking toothpaste," Jim told him, taking his mouth away for a moment. "So I want you to come."

"I wanted to come when you were in me."

"You will," Jim promised with just a shade of arrogance. If he couldn't get Blair up again within ten minutes or less, he'd sub for Sam for a week. Besides, it would leave Blair just that little bit more relaxed. Without bothering to discuss it anymore, he went back to what he'd been doing, not allowing Blair to fuck his mouth, because no matter how much Blair wanted to -- and he kept on trying, every muscle straining -- being held down by Jim was turning Blair on even more.

It didn't take long to make Blair come. Jim swallowed once, twice, as Blair panted out some predictable, but heartfelt exhortations, and closed his eyes for a moment. His cock was beating out an SOS in close to painful throbs and he couldn't remember being this eager to come in years. He released Blair's wrists from the cuffs and slanted his eyes down at the bed. Blair went from kneeling to hands and knees with an alacrity Jim found reassuring. It probably helped that Blair's cock was still mostly hard. Jim had been there; frustrated and kept hanging for hours, so that one climax just wasn't enough to scratch the itch, quench the flames. The second one would be slower to build, but leave Blair wiped out, barely able to twitch a finger.

In theory, anyway.

Jim spared the room a glance. Filled with toys and equipment, and after one curious, wide-eyed stare, all Blair had wanted was this bed and Jim's cock.

And you've kept him waiting for that, haven't you? Just as well he isn't a client, or he'd be complaining by now and you'd be kissing that twenty slipped into your hand on the way out goodbye (the women always met his eyes and smiled; the men, never).

But he's not a client.


He knelt behind Blair on the bed and methodically, quickly, he put lube, the opened condom, and some wipes within reach. Then he drizzled lube onto his fingers, weightless, cool, and pushed a finger, his middle one, deep into Blair's ass with a slow, strong push. Blair gave a startled, choked sound and Jim paused. "Okay?"

"Mmm." Blair gave him a fleeting glance over his shoulder. "Talk to me? You're being the strong, silent type and it's freaking me out. I feel like I'm at the doctor's office or something."

Jim had played that scene from both ends, doctor and patient, in the past, but they weren't memories he wanted to relive right now. He let his finger slip out, and cleaned it off on a wipe without paying attention to what he was doing. "I'm counting the ways I've fucked up tonight."

Honesty. Big mistake. Blair looked back at him with something close to disappointment and Jim sighed to himself. Never admit you don't know what the hell you're doing. Bluff, lie, keep quiet…do anything but confess a mistake.

"Jim, I love you, but when I said talk, I meant tell me I'm hot and you want to nail my ass. Sweet talk me into believing it." Blair rolled to his back, and fixed his gaze on the ceiling. "I'm supposed to be the nervous one, not you, and I need you to tell me you want me."

Jim heard Blair in a seashell roar, some words coming through distinctly, some a vague buzz. Love. Okay, that was Blair being flippant. No problem. He didn't mean it. Nervous? Oh, God, was it showing? What the fuck was wrong with him that he was so off his game?

He hesitated too long.

"I will walk out of here naked and bend over for the first Dom who wants me if you don't fuck me right the hell now." Pure bravado, and Jim knew it, but it didn't mean he liked hearing it. The only thing saving Blair was that he looked as if he was regretting it already.

"You move off this bed without my permission and I'll --" He broke off the threat and gave Blair the most irritating smirk he could. "You came here with me. You're wearing my collar. Wiggle your ass all you want, babe; no one's going to touch it, or you."

"I didn't come in here chained to you," Blair said, each word distinct. "And the collar, well, that's easy to take care of."

He had Blair's wrists in a tight squeezing grip a moment before Blair's fingers touched leather, every protective instinct he had kicking in, because that was something Blair would regret doing even more once he calmed down. "Don't."

Blair fought for a freedom Jim wasn't going to give him, struggling hard. "Let me go if you don't want me!"

Jim gaped at him, too incredulous to be annoyed. Blair's logic defeated him sometimes. "What the hell have I done to make you think that?"

"You're not fucking me and I don't know why!" Blair was yelling at him from a distance of a few inches and it hurt his ears. "I keep asking -- begging -- and you keep stopping and each time you do I feel so fucking frustrated, so unwanted." He took a deep breath to fuel the next part of his tirade. "And thanks for pointing out that no one else wants me, unless I pay them, because, yeah, I need that reminder right now. Asshole."

"Oh, they want you," Jim said. "They're just not getting you. You're mine and yes, I'm nervous and no, I don't know why, but you fucking terrify me, Blair, and I can't get past that the way I should."

More honesty. Shit. It was getting to be a bad habit.
 
Blair stopped struggling. "I do what?" He shook his head. "Newsflash, Jim; you're the cool one; I'm the geeky writer. You're the one walking around making jaws drop and I'm the one getting raised eyebrows in restaurants. You're the --"

"Enough," Jim said. There were too many thoughts jostling around in his head but most of them centered on the way he'd felt when Blair had tried to take off his collar. "Just… go back to where you were. No more talking, and I promise I won't stop unless you tell me to." Blair looked undecided and Jim gave it everything he'd got with one softly voiced, "Please?"

"You suck at being a Dom," Blair told him. "You're not supposed to be the one begging me."

"And you're failing Sub 101," Jim replied with a shrug. "Big time. I don't care. I know what you are and I'm starting to see what I am."

Blair moved forward, close enough that his breath was warm on Jim's face. "What are you?"

"Try taking your collar off again and you'll find out," Jim said calmly.

Blair breathed in sharply and then nodded. "I won't. I'm sorry."

Jim leaned in and spoke directly into Blair's ear, making sure no part of his body came into contact with Blair. "On your knees, Blair."

He swore he could hear Blair's heartbeat speed up. "Yes, Jim," Blair said with a perfect intonation, respectful, serious.

Jim waited for Blair to get into position and then stroked his hand approvingly over Blair's ass. They were both no more than half-hard now, but it wouldn't take long for that to change. He could feel the tension drain from both of them, to be replaced with an anticipatory awareness. Mindful of what had derailed them a few minutes earlier, he began to talk, not the rote dirty talk a client would have received, but his thoughts as they came into his head.

"It's going to be easier for you this way, but I wish I could see your face. Next time, I will." He slid a dripping finger into Blair's ass, ignoring the way the lube was running down his hand. He wanted Blair slippery. Blair keened softly and rocked into the slow glide and retreat of Jim's finger. "You want more, don't you? More than one finger. My greedy Blair. Next time, maybe I'll do that, just open you up with my cock, slow, so fucking slow. You'll be whimpering and I'll love that, love the sounds you make. My Blair."

More lube, but he kept it at one finger. It was enough. He didn't want to risk jabbing Blair anywhere tender with a fingernail. When he was satisfied that lube was spread up and in as far as it could go, with Blair's back sheened with sweat, his hands fisted in the sheets, he wiped his hands and rolled a condom over his cock. Jim was hard again, achingly so, from that first slide of his finger into the tight, clutching heat of Blair's body. So fucking intimate, to do that, more than what he was about to do now, because his cock wasn't what he used to explore the world the way his fingers were. He almost hated to lose that connection between them, fingers on flesh, possessing, claiming.

He wrapped his hand around Blair's cock, and then bent over him, his mouth tasting Blair's skin, salted with sweat and heat. "God, you're hot. The way you make me feel… I walked into that hotel room the first time we met, and I wanted you right then, wanted to strip you, spread you out, get my hands on you, all of you." He jacked Blair, slow and loose, smoothing the slickness at the head around in a circle with his thumb. "Thought about you when I went to sleep that night. Jerked off again, and then woke hard. I was hell to work with that day."

Blair rolled his shoulders, obeying the order to be quiet but managing to convey volumes even so. Jim chuckled, and used more lube on himself. "Spread a little wider. That's it, oh, that’s good, Blair. You're good, so fucking good for me, so fucking hot."

He eased in, one step forward, two steps back, finding his control easily because this was Blair and he didn't want to hurt him. Blair was breathing in short, harsh pants, but he didn't pull away or tense up enough for Jim to worry. In fact, if anything, he was trying to help, pushing back eagerly to get more of what Jim was giving him in small, measured doses.

"Stay…still," Jim said, his jaw clenched against the need to just take, grab greedily at what was being offered.

"Can't --"

Jim shook his head to clear it, and slapped the side of Blair's leg. "Yes, you can. Stay still for me for --" He thought about it, unable to obey his own dictum, still making those gentle inroads into Blair's slowly opening body. "Three, no, four, of these, and then you can move for me as much as you want."

He rested one hand on the bed, and curved the other under, cupping Blair's balls and then sliding his hand up over the straining hardness. Blair gave a frustrated, desperate whimper and slammed his fist against the pillow. "Fuck!"

"Want to know what I'll do to you if you come before I give you permission?" Jim said into Blair's ear in a silky purr. When Blair didn't answer -- Jim didn't count the whispered repetition of 'fuck' -- he slapped Blair's ass, most of the punishment lying in the fact that he had to let go of Blair's cock to do it. "Tell me."

"Yes, I want to know." Blair sounded close to snarling. It really wasn't very respectful of him, but Jim was filled with a fizz of happiness, lightheaded with it.

He ran his hand over the sweat-dappled skin of Blair's back and up, locking it around the nape of Blair's neck, a twin to the collar circling it. Blair liked that tight, possessive squeeze; deep in him as he was, Jim could tell by the reflexive shift of muscles.

"Nothing." He smiled and licked Blair's shoulder and then bit down. "Because it's not going to happen. No more waiting, don't hold back -- but no touching yourself. Just my hands on you, my cock in you. You come from that."

"That's not going to be a problem." The words were stifled but Jim heard them and he grinned again.

"Then stay still for me, sweetheart."

He didn't expect an acknowledgement but Blair murmured a dutiful, "Yes, Jim," and his body stilled, tense now as it hadn't been before, the stillness bought with an effort of will.

Jim moved his hand from the bed to Blair's hip and after one last caress of Blair's neck, brought his other hand down to Blair's ass, stroking it. He pulled out most of the way and used more lube, drizzling it down with a lavish hand and ignoring the mess. Then he dipped his finger into the pooled wetness and ran it around the stretched wide tautness of Blair's hole, brushing over his cock as he did it and feeling his arousal shiver higher from the contact and the visual. Blair jerked, a startled leap.

"I'm not letting that one go," Jim warned him, knowing he was being unfair and knowing Blair didn't care. "I'll deal with it later. Stay still."

He made the four slow, deep thrusts last as long as he could, which, by the fourth one, was a battle of control he was happy to lose. He could feel his awareness of the room narrow to the bed, his senses focused only on the gathering clamor of his body as it fought to sate itself and the man beneath him. Only they mattered. Just the two of them and what they were doing.

"Move," he choked out as the fourth stroke ended, and he slapped Blair's ass sharply in a signal Blair needed, because from what Jim could see, Blair was lost, gone, drowning in a flood of sensation.

But it was Jim who moved first, trembling with the need to get deeper inside Blair, own him, fill him, join with him. Each time he pulled out he felt bereft; each time he slid home, hard, fast, choppy strokes, clumsy, uncoordinated, he felt Blair's body welcome him. Blair had found a rhythm, but Jim wasn't sure how, given the way he was all over the fucking place. Shit. He tried to slow down and give Blair something better than this; frantic, flurried, uncontrolled -- fuck, he'd done better than this his first time and that had been a disaster -- but he couldn't.

It was, he thought, a sharp, clear thought among the chaos, Blair's fault. Blair was overwhelming him, the way he was moving, writhing, bucking, the sounds he was making; breathy, guttural, so fucking sweet and dirty, God, the words spilling out of Blair's mouth were so fucking sweet --

He got his hand around Blair's cock, and felt it pulse and quiver and spit; spunk spurting warm and wet into air and onto skin, and then he was coming, too, his climax torn out of him, as he fucked into Blair harder, harder, more, needing to just stop thinking, just stop --

Thought ended and he rode out his release, his body one silent scream of satisfaction. Maybe not so silent; when he'd recovered enough to slide free of Blair, his throat felt rasped and raw and his ears were ringing.

He dealt with the disposal of the condom by not thinking about it and letting his body remember what to do, and then tossed the resulting damp wad of tissues at the floor. He made a mental note to move it later. The room would get very thoroughly cleaned when they left, and the people doing it had seen far worse, but Jim liked to deal with his own mess.

Blair was sprawled out on his belly, his face lost behind sweat-dark hair. Jim curled up beside him, fitting his body to Blair's, and waited, touching Blair because he couldn't keep his hands off him, but trying not to crowd him too much. When the silence was aching in his ears, he kissed Blair's hair and let his hand move lightly over Blair's ass in a barely there brush of palm.

"Blair?"

Blair turned, the movement sudden, fast, and Jim gathered him close instinctively, as he would have done a hurt child. "Shit, Blair, I'm sorry --"

"Huh?" Blair raised his head and blinked puzzled blue eyes. "What for?"

"Oh." Jim readjusted his conclusion and returning Blair's beaming, smug smile with a tentative one. "Nothing, I guess. You're okay?"

Blair's expression became inward and he frowned. "I think so. Little tender, maybe, but it doesn't hurt." He didn't sound too sure about that but Jim accepted his words at face value. It would hurt more later, but he'd deal with that when it happened and Blair didn't need to be told that piece of news yet.

Right now, Jim wanted to lie here and just… yeah. Just this. He leaned over and picked up a remote from the table by the bed and dimmed the lights. Better. He kissed Blair's mouth, and tasted blood, because at some point Blair had bitten into his lip. Jim wished he could have seen that and the look on Blair's face when he did it. Wanted to know what had made Blair do it, too.

Desire and arousal were both beyond his exhausted body and yet as constant as the air he was breathing, but kissing Blair was just… nice. Blair made an encouraging, contented murmur and kissed him back. Something had changed between them, something that made Jim think dimly that if he'd ever held any power in this relationship, he could kiss it goodbye, but that didn't matter, either.

"What happens now?" Blair asked.

"Short term or long?"

"Short."

"Want to go home?"

"Are you kidding?" Blair got up on his elbow and gestured around the room. "I want to play."

Jim shook his head. "Like a kid in a toy store," he mocked, the indulgence bright and warm in his voice. "Well, considering what you've got coming to you…"

"Are you really going to punish me for moving?" Blair demanded. "Jim, if you'd warned me…."

"I didn't have to warn you when I'd already told you to stay still," Jim said, which wasn't entirely true but wasn't entirely wrong, either. "And you know damn well you've earned plenty of punishment tonight." He tapped his fingers against Blair's ass and smirked. "Going to make this sting, babe. Going to make you beg for mercy."

Blair's breath caught and his eyes darkened. "Yeah? So tell me before we start; are you going to give me any?"

Jim licked along Blair's jaw and set his teeth in the soft flesh of Blair's earlobe. "No. But I'm going to make you beg anyway."

***

"What about your book?" Jim asked idly. He cupped reddened, hot skin and then smoothed more lotion into it. Blair's face was tear-stained, but there was nothing in his eyes but a contentment Jim shared. He'd done so little to Blair, really, so very little. Fucked him, tied him, bent him over; whipped him. Hurt him to the edge of comfort and then eased Blair past his limit, just a little, and guided him back. Come in Blair's willing mouth, his fingers hooked inside the loosened collar Blair wore still; whispered to him that he loved him and seen Blair's face soften with bewilderment and then brighten before he said it back.

Nothing. Everything.

"My book?" Blair scrubbed at his nose irritably and sniffed wetly. Jim silently handed him some Kleenex and waited for Blair to blow. "Yeah, well, I've got to get back to it, but I've been distracted." He bumped his hip against Jim's leg and then reached back and danced his fingers lightly over his ass. "Ow."

"You'll live."

"Gee, thanks, Jim."

"You love it," Jim said. "And your ass looks good that color. Want me to take you out into the main room and show you off?"

"You wouldn’t!"

"I might." Jim considered it. "Your jeans are wrecked, but that wouldn't matter…" He studied the blotchy, bruised skin, flushed scarlet and hot and sighed. "No, you're right. I wouldn't."

"Why not?"

And now Blair sounded disappointed. For the love of -- Jim gave the lotion-slick skin an admonitory smack and put a hint of a growl in his voice. "Because I don't share."

"Mmm." Blair wriggled his ass. Provocative, perverse, maddening -- "Good."

"About your book," Jim said, and watched his hand go back to stroking Blair's ass, needle to a magnet, helpless to stop. "I was thinking about it and I want to help."

"Read it, you mean?" Blair's voice went high with shock before the babble started. "Thanks, Jim, but it's just notes, really, handwritten, some of them, really messy, can't read them myself most of the time. I do this thing, this rough outline thing, well, I mean, it's really disorganized and I'm not sure --"

"No, not read it." Jim realized how that sounded and tried again. "I want to read it, but not until you want me to -- fuck. Forget it. Shut up and listen."

"Yes, Jim," Blair said, demure enough for it to be a raised finger rather than obedience. Brat.

"You wanted to know more about it. Prostitution, I mean. So why not come and work for me for a month?"

Blair turned his head, his eyes round, his lips parted. "You want me to do what? Become a hooker? Shit, Jim, I don't think I could --"

"What? No!" Jim rolled Blair to his back, ignoring his yelp of pain, and lay on top of him, skin to skin, holding Blair in place. "No fucking way do you see clients. Ever. No. How could you even think that?" He kissed Blair hard, filled with a dark, hot possessiveness that needed expression before it left him a hollow shell, burned out and empty. "Work with me. In the office. See how the agency's run. How it all fits together. Get to know my people."

Get to know me.

Blair lay under him, quiet now. The leather of his collar was a dark curve against his kiss-marked throat. Jim watched and waited, already regretting it. Shit, what was he thinking? And what the hell would Simon say?

"I'd like that," Blair said finally. "Thank you." He lifted his eyebrows. "So, boss…"

Jim grinned down at him, his doubts already fading. With Blair all day… knowing he was around… "I think you can still call me 'Jim' even at work."

"Is there a dress code?"

Jim fingered the collar around Blair's neck; all he wore apart from bruises and a whole lot of dried sweat, come, and tears they were going to have to clean off soon. "Not really." He pursed his lips. "I might make you wear this under your shirt, though. Or give you something else that's less visible. Something else you'd need my permission to remove."

Blair swallowed hard, a pulse hammering in his throat. "I thought -- I thought you weren't into doing this all the time."

Jim traced the line of Blair's cheekbone and down to the rougher skin of his jaw, stubble showing faintly. It had left his lips smarting and he hadn't cared. "I think I've changed my mind. I think you've changed my mind about a lot." He kissed Blair's mouth and coaxed it open with his tongue. "But if you don't want to wear something that says you're mine this early, I can wait for as long as it takes, and if you never want to take it that far, I'll understand."

"If you think I wouldn't want that, then you don't understand," Blair said flatly. "Do it. Give it to me, whatever it is. Pierce my nipple, bite me where it shows, send me out there naked, as long as everyone who sees me knows I'm yours. I don't care. I want it all. Everything. I want you."

Jim looked at him and didn't hide any of the emotions filling him. Love, fear, adoration. Blair stared back and began to smile, sunrise bright. "You want me, too."

"Yes," Jim said and for the first time felt that Blair believed him. "I do."

Always had.


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