Rushing In

He lay in bed, not trying to sleep, even though he knew he should because it was late, just… thinking.

Wow. Him and Jim. Jim and him. His fingers brushed his lips, remembering kisses, lots of kisses, and his mouth pushed up reflexively.

Jim had stared at him between kisses. Eyes pleading even as his mouth took. Needing to know Blair was good with this, though how he could doubt it...

Reassuring him had taken a while and Blair had loved every minute of it, but eventually Blair's face had been patted with a hand that lingered now they were both on the same page and Jim had gone to bed, his "Good night, Chief" given with a backward glance and a smile that verged on shy before Jim had caught himself and changed it to a brusque nod.

Blair had wrapped his arms around his chest and rocked back and forth on the couch, silently mouthing an exultant 'Yes!' that, judging by the chuckle drifting down from Jim's bedroom, hadn't been as silent as he'd thought.

And he'd gone to bed.

No rush. No rush at all for more. Jim had been pretty definite about that -- still hung up on the idea that Blair was going to wake with regrets, which, man, so not gonna happen.

And Blair had gone along with it. Last thing he wanted to do was scare Jim off. Baby steps. Yeah. And part of him was really getting off on the idea of seducing Jim openly and seeing how long it took to tease the man into snapping and -- okay, not a good idea to think about that. Jerking off wasn't happening with a wide awake Sentinel overhead.

Speaking of which…

The loft was almost unnaturally still, their usual sleepy grunts and shifting around replaced by the aching quietness as they dealt with what had happened in their separate beds. Blair didn't like it. Jim didn't want him to freak? Well, Jim's tongue in his mouth he could handle -- happy to -- but this separation just hours after he'd told Jim how he felt about him, in a way that might not have made Hallmark gnash their teeth in envy but which had done the trick, was killing him.

"Jim," he called out softly. "I'm coming up."

"What?" There was a rustle of sheets and Blair got out of bed quickly, forestalling Jim by taking the stairs at a reckless run that brought him to the foot of Jim's bed in seconds, breathing hard.

"Blair, didn't we --?"

"Yes, we did. And we will. Won't. Whatever." Blair began to feel his way to whichever side of the bed would be his and discovered that Jim had pretty much claimed it all. The man clearly had some starfish in his ancestry. "Look, Jim, shove over, okay? I don't care what side I get, but I'm coming in."


"Why?" Blair exhaled, frustrated. "Because now I can, dumbass." He kicked the bed with his foot. "I just want to -- I just…"

He couldn't do it. He couldn't tell Jim, not even the surprisingly gentle, touchingly diffident Jim of tonight that he wanted to cuddle up against a warm, mostly bare body and feel loved. Feel wanted. That was giant leap territory and he wasn't ready to show Jim that side of him, any more than he planned to confess to his short list of assorted kinks, which weren't very, but who knew how Jim would react?

Too soon. Way too soon. First date.

Jim sighed. "You're going to get cold standing there."

It was all the invitation he needed and he didn't wait to work out alternative interpretations; he just crawled in beside Jim and burrowed into the toasty warmth of clean, Jim-scented sheets.

And Jim, after lying there, a careful few inches away, swung his arm over Blair and gathered him closer, dropping a kiss on his hair and repeating "Good night, Chief," in a murmur that sounded contented and -- finally -- convinced.

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