by Jane Davitt

"Longest night," Blair tells him, just before they go upstairs. "Winter solstice. We should do something."

"Like what?"

He shouldn't have asked. Blair launches into a lengthy description of solstice rituals and customs until, even loving him as he does (a lot, hell, yes), Jim tunes out the meaning and just listens to the familiar cadences, the excited rise and fall of Blair's voice.

Blair seems to be saying 'naked' a lot, which surprises Jim not one little bit. Well, it’s a starting point. Cutting Blair off mid-sentence, he begins to strip, right there in front of the fire, returning Blair's smile, that mellows from delighted to something sultry, darker.

He doesn't make it a show or a tease but he makes it slow and relaxed. No hurry. Not tonight, not on this endless winter night. He can see the approval in Blair's eyes like a mirror.

The flicker of the flames and the candlelight feel right against his skin, as the cold blaze of electricity wouldn’t be; small, hand-kindled sparks in the darkness.

He watches Blair wriggle out of his clothes without rising, Blair choosing speed over grace, and feels… connected to the past once they're both naked. Maybe it's a Sentinel response.

Or, as Blair stands and walks over to him, and then falls to his knees, hands wandering in a slow, reverent hush over Jim's body, maybe it's just a human one.

His hands drop to stroke Blair's hair and they stay like that for a while, until he guides Blair's hands and mouth to where he needs them to be and lets himself rock languidly into the roll and lick of Blair's tongue for a while.

Wet, hard, he steps back and smiles down into Blair's face, his absorbed, aroused, anticipatory face with its spit-shined lips.

"I'm going to fuck you until dawn," he says and means it. "I'm going to be in you, on you, with you, all through the night until the sun comes back."

"Going to keep me safe?"

Jim shows his teeth. "Not exactly."

Blair chuckles, low and rich, and leans in to set his teeth -- carefully -- in the tight, stretched skin of Jim's hipbone. He sucks up a mark, with Jim aware of every pop and burst as the hot red bruise forms. "Yeah. It's not a night to huddle in fear. It's a night to scream up at the stars, defy the darkness." He sways in place, and nods. "Yeah…" he says softly.

"I'll make you scream," Jim promises.

"I'll make you forget how to," Blair replies, and drags his thumb over the head of his cock, circling and sliding in the thin sheen coating it. He starts to bring his hand to his mouth.

Jim's on him before he gets the chance to suck his thumb clean, but he goes for the source.

He doesn't let Blair come. Not yet, not for either of them. Too soon.

They're still using words to beg.

Too soon.

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