FIC: Smooth: The Sentinel: J/B: Slash: FRM
Title: Smooth
Author: escargoat
Fandom: The Sentinel
Words: approx. 1,010
Pairing: J/B - slash
Rating: FRM
Summary: Blair shaves his legs for an experiment.
Disclaimer: The Sentinel is owned by people and companies who are not me. I’m not making money, baseball cards, tofu, or being otherwise remunerated for this effort.
Warnings: None - not a cross-dressing fic.
A/N: This was written for sentinel_thurs challenge #301 - science. I originally had intentions of trying my very first PWP with this. It didn’t work out. Still lacking much of a plot, but I couldn’t quite make it to the ‘porn’ part.
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Blair shivered as he felt fingertips ghost along the back of his calves. Jim’s touch was light at first, but as he continued to sweep over Blair’s lower legs, he increased the pressure.
It felt… honestly, it felt fantastic. The rhythm of the strokes was perfect. Jim’s hands didn’t linger in any one spot too long, but always returned before an area could grow chilled from their absence. The varying pressure stimulated blood flow to the area, and…
“I can’t believe you actually did this.” Jim’s disbelieving voice broke into Blair’s happy place.
“Yeah, well you try having this beard for a while and see how you handle it, man. Do you know how many razors offer ‘the closest shave’?”
“Lots, but I’m not the one who shaved his legs so that his landlord could tell him which one gave the smoothest cut.” Jim groused.
“One: I’d have to actually pay you that rent for you to be my landlord, in which case we’d need to draw up a rental agreement. Two: You’re a sentinel. Who else is capable of objectively telling me which razor to give my allegiance to?”
“You shaved your legs.” Jim drawled out slowly as he turned his gaze from the legs right in front of him to Blair’s face all the way at the other end of the sofa.
“Yeah? So what? You wax your chest. Don’t pretend you don’t. I’ve seen your wooly arms. You cannot convince me that those hunks of granite you call your pecs don’t sprout hairs.”
Jim shrugged and smiled. “Yeah, but I do it for cosmetic reasons, Chief. You’re just doing this for a, a science experiment.”
“‘A science experiment’?” Blair echoed. “What, I’m going to mount my gams on a felt board with a graph of comparable smoothness at the next science fair?”
“You know what I mean… Girls shave their legs. Guys…”
“Wax their bosoms?” Blair filled in with an amused arch of an eyebrow.
“You’re fixating on my chest when the subject is your legs.” Jim reminded him.
Blair waved a dismissive hand in Jim’s direction. “Your chest is a much more interesting subject. I mean, I’ve known my legs all my life. They’re a touch skinny, and they’re perpetually pasty even when I’ve been out in the sun. Your pecs, though, I’ve only known them since I met you, so they have potential for being an interesting conversation topic.”
“That makes no sense at all, Sandburg. In fact, I bet that doesn’t even make sense to you.” Jim accused his partner.
“Of course it makes sense to me. And really, do you see me being concerned about what other people think here? As you pointed out, I just shaved my legs, so either I put up with funny looks for a while every time I wear shorts, or I don’t wear shorts in public until the hair grows back out. Whatever my decision, the consequences are worth it, or they will be as soon as you tell me which one has the smoothest shave.”
Jim’s brow crinkled in concentration as he turned his attention back to the task at hand.
“Are you sure that this is a valid test? The skin on your face is different from what is on your legs,” he said even as he continued touching Blair’s legs.
“Jim, man, it is a razor. It cuts hair. This isn’t rocket science here.”
“Yeah, but doesn’t the density of…”
“Hey, who is the scientist here? You let me worry about the variables.”
“Thought you were an anthropologist.” Jim retorted with a smirk on his lips.
“Jim, man, don’t even start with that ‘anthropology is a humanities subject and not a science’ stuff with me. I’ve got a hundred ways to make you hurt big time with those senses of yours, and I’ve got them all tested and documented.” Blair threatened halfheartedly.
Jim wisely retreated from the battle and dutifully stared at the legs that he was testing. “Section four, Chief. Definitely.”
“Really?” Blair asked as glanced down and ran his own hand to the spot that Jim had indicated. Jim’s finger tips bumped into Blair’s as they both went to caress the patch of skin at the same time.
“Really,” Jim’s voice was all of a sudden throaty, and Blair’s focus turned from his own leg to Jim’s face.
The sentinel was staring intently at the place where their hands were touching, not at the level of stubble showing through the recently shaved area. Blair was about to make a smart remark to break the tension when Jim slid his fingers under Blair’s and lifted the anthropologist’s hand up to his mouth for a kiss.
“Jim?” Blair croaked.
Jim released the hand and smiled back at his partner. “What, you thought that I really believed this whole thing was a test? You don’t even buy your own razors. You steal mine.”
“It was too a test.” Blair protested.
“Mmm hmm, to see if I got turned on by the additional pheromones that escape when I’m this close to your crotch, and you’re wearing loose shorts. The razor thing was just a red herring.” Jim announced as he twisted to crawl up Blair’s body so that they were face to face.
“I, uh…”
“Came up with the ‘shaving’ experiment so that you had something to hide behind if I wasn’t interested?”
“Sorry?”
“Sandburg, I just got to feel you up for the past ten minutes guilt free. I don’t think that you need to apologize for that. Although if you really want to make it up to me, you could return the favor.”
“Yeah? You want me to play with your legs?” Blair teased.
Jim smirked and tugged Blair’s hand down to his groin. “Yeah,” he breathed against Blair’s mouth, “start with this one.”
“That isn’t a leg.” Blair pointed out even as he obliged Jim’s request with a gentle grope.
“Guess that means you passed biology, huh?” Jim grunted as Blair’s hand continued its massage.
“Yep,” Blair agreed. “Just call me ‘Mr. Science.’”