New Fic: TS
Hey all!
Well, here goes, my very first slash. Whoo-hoo! I happily lay the blame at T. Verano's feet for enticing me into writing slash. Though this isn't the one with the chocolate ice cream...but I promise, soon- 'kay? The rest of you lovely writers also inspire the heck out of me and more often than not, are the reason I have to run and stick my head in the freezer to cool down.
Hope y'all like!
Title: A Matter of Timing
Author: JadeBear
Disclaimer: I so do not own the characters of Jim and Blair. They are the property of Pet Fly and Paramount. If I owned them they would be gently chained in the basement for my amusement. I’ve made no money off of this story.
Category: Slash J/B; First Times
Word count: 2,438
A Matter of Timing
by JadeBear (JB)
Carolyn Plummer was his hero.
After all, if not for good ol’ Caro, he might never have considered the possibility. Oh, well, he did consider it. A lot. Pondered. Wondered. Day dreamed. Fantasized. Fantasized some more. But never in his wildest dreams did Blair Sandburg even once stop to consider that James Ellison might in fact, fantasize about him. Until Carolyn. God bless her.
She’d been in town a month ago for a conference and subsequently had looked up her Ex, who in turn had seemed happy enough to treat her to dinner. Carolyn had come to the door dressed to the nines. Blair had peeked over his laptop as she’d strutted in and had been bemused at her obvious overtones towards Jim. Jim had smiled, made polite small talk and bad quips and she laughed in all the right places and clutched his arm possessively as they walked out the door, her four inch fuck me heels clicking on the hardwood and Jim, Detective of the Year (twice mind you), was oblivious to it all. Blair had been bemused and had almost laughed outright as her attempt to give Jim a welcoming kiss had failed utterly and she ended up catching his cheek instead.
It was funny until they walked out the door and Sandburg realized that oblivious or not, if she wanted to get reacquainted in the biblical sense, it wouldn’t take much to convince Jim that it was a swell idea. If flirtatious overtones wouldn’t work, then pulling at the mans’ fly would probably get his attention.
Blair lost his smile.
Two hours later and nothing but gibberish filling three whole pages, Blair gave up the ghost. He’d get a lot more done at the University. Packing up his notes and laptop, he’d refused to acknowledge the added bonus that if he were gone, he wouldn’t have to watch Jim and Carolyn walk through the door, only to be asked politely to leave anyway with only a twenty for his compliance. He didn’t think he could watch the Godfather one more time.
“Where ya going, Chief?”
Blair had looked up, startled as he’d been unlocking his car door to see Jim and Carolyn stepping out of her Buick. It didn’t surprise Blair. He couldn’t picture Carolyn being caught dead in the truck. Personally, he loved Sweetheart. It had bench seats. Fantasies were easier with bench seats.
“I was headed to the U, ya know, get caught up,” He glanced over to see Carolyn standing on the curb, an unreadable expression on her face. Probably annoyed with the small talk taking up all her pillow talk time. “I can stay gone, uh, ya know, if you need me to,” It was hard to force the words past his teeth, but hell, what were pals for?
Jim tilted his head. “Why would you need to do that?” Blair’s eyebrows hit his hairline and before he could say anything, Jim was placing his hands on Carolyn’s arms, he was leaning in and Blair couldn’t help but stand there and watch. He could almost feel those hands on his arms, the length of their bodies pressed close, the heat of Jim’s breath as he leaned in and kissed his…cheek?
“I had a great night, Carolyn. Be careful going back to San Francisco,”
She said something polite back to him, but it was hard to hear because she had to force the words through a tight smile. Jim turned to him then and smiling said, “Don’t stay up too late, Chief.”
“S-Sure,” And if his voice cracked, then hey, maybe it was cold. He was trying not to smile with Carolyn still watching Jim’s back as he disappeared through the apartment doors, but it was hard. Jim may not be interested in him, or men in general, which was where the problem lay, but apparently he wasn’t interested in Carolyn Plummer either. It was hard not to gloat.
He’d thrown his backpack in the car, after all, he really did need to get some work done, when he sensed a dark presence. And she was pissed.
“So was it before or after I left?”
And the guys made fun of him for his ‘Sandburg Zone.’
“Huh?”
“Don’t play dumb with me,” She poked her manicured finger at his face and he leaned back, looking cross-eyed for a second.
“Carolyn, I honestly don’t know what you’re talking about. Before or after what?”
She stepped back and folded her arms tight across her chest, her pretty face pinched and narrow.
“I knew about the army things. He thinks I don’t. But sometimes he had nightmares about the crash in Peru. He said things about that Sarris,” She blushed then and looked away. “I never told him. I thought it was just a stress thing, in the military, from what he did,” She looked back at him then and he didn’t know what to think, because surely she wasn’t saying what he thought she was saying.
“I, uh,” He coughed, “I didn’t know that,”
She looked at him strangely and he just stood there dumbly. Carolyn had shaken her head then, her arms tightening around herself.
“I don’t know what I was thinking tonight,” She was still looking away and Blair realized that she was talking more to herself than to him at that point. “I just wanted…” She looked up and Blair felt sorry for her and the sheen in her eyes. She shook her head then and looked at him as though truly seeing at him for the first time.
“Carolyn-“
Her outstretched hand stopped him. She took a deep breath, rolled back her shoulders and held her head high. And then she graced him with a sad little smile.
“I hope you make him happy, Blair. I certainly couldn’t.”
With those final words, Carolyn Plummer gracefully retreated, got in her Buick and left with Blair staring after her. His jaw was still hanging four inches below his face when he slowly turned and looked towards the loft.
No. Fucking. Way.
His hands shook trying to fit the key in the ignition. Did Jim and Sarris have a thing way back when? His heart hammered for two hours straight. Was Jim actually into guys? He got absolutely no work done. Was it true? As he crept back into the loft late that night and lay down in his bed, his eyes boring holes through the ceiling to where Jim lay, Blair had a whole line of tests worked out in his head.
None of them had to do with the senses.
*******
It was all in the timing, really.
Like making sure he was juuuuust coming out of his room, dressed only in his black silk boxers, the ones that were a little too loose, while towel drying his hair because he’d just had a shower, just as Jim stepped through the door. Oh and hey, while he’s out there, he might as well check the mail Jim was bringing in. And if his boxers were hanging just a little lower, the angles of his hip bones standing out; if their hands grazed one another as he took the mail, so what? And so what, when Jim bitched about Sandburg getting water on the floor, his voice came out a little rough and breathy…well, so what?
Yes timing was important. Like getting dressed up for a fundraiser. Even if it wasn’t for another three hours but Jim was leaving for a steak out in one and he got ready sooner anyway…well, better early than late. And he had to look good. He was representing the University. It was his duty to put forth his best impression. The long sleeve silk shirt was something of a deep blue, not too dark, but one that made his eyes look deeper. The black dress slacks cupped and hugged him in all the right places. He left the collar button undone and had found a choker with thick double black cording and set off with an etched Inuit wolf on a three inch pewter tube laying longways with the cords strung through it. It peeked between his shirt perfectly. Of course, he just couldn’t possibly get in on by himself. So what if he had to have Jim clasp it in the back for him? And if he had to bite back a moan as Jim’s calloused hand gently pulled his hair aside, his fingertips grazing the back of his neck, well, he got his necklace on, didn’t he? And if Jim’s hands seemed to be shaking and if Jim just looked down at him with an intensity that left Blair breathless, even as he’d walked out the door, well?
Score two for Sandburg.
Timing was standing in front of the stove for twenty-three minutes and bending over just as the front door opens and Jim calls out, “Hey Chief, something sm-smells, um…good,”
And timing is making sure that he stayed in that position, his threadbare, impossibly tight, obscene and most comfortable pair of faded jeans hugging his ass, and then standing slowly, replacing his shit-eating grin with something softer as he looks over his shoulder and says, “Thanks. Almost ready,” And if Jim can only seem to nod at that point, but his adam’s apple is working overtime, well then…
Timing is making sure to immediately grab the bowl of salad off the counter and accidently slip on the way to the table so Jim would automatically reach out to steady him. And when Blair pushed back against Jim, just a little, he had to keep the smile off his face. And if he could only whisper a thank you, and Jim could only nod, well…he’d felt more than Jim’s hands on his arms. The third test was complete. And judging by what he’d felt pressed against those threadbare jeans for just an agonizingly amazing moment, he could honestly say that it was a complete success.
*****
The dilemma now was how to approach the situation. Meaning Jim.
It was obvious the guy was into him. Blair thought about being romantic. But after torturing himself on what was too romantic versus just right, he gave up on that. Simple was better anyway. Jim was complex, but he appreciated the little things. Maybe they could walk on the beach?
He would say something clever and Jim would be stunned and then smile and take Blair into his arms, crushing them together until there was no space between, like they were crawling into one another and they’d fall into the sand. Jim’s hard length would be spread over him, pressing him down, a solid weight that would be liberating. He could practically feel Jim’s hand in his hair, pulling and stroking and his other hand would be moving under Blair’s shirt, skittering across his belly, pinching his nipples and then suddenly skimming lower as Blair arched into him, into Jim with his whole body, their mouths devouring one another. Jim’s nimble fingers, fingers that had squeezed the triggers of countless guns, had struck and punched, his fingers would undo Blair’s fly and those fingers, those hands that could act in such violence would act with nothing but utter love, utter brilliance. Jim’s hand would move lower and lower to a place Blair had allowed only one other man and he’s arching and moaning and it’s agony and it’s exquisite and he thinks, no he knows, he knows he’s been waiting for Jim. Just Jim. He let that other man, when they were young and lonely in some tropical forest long ago, but it hadn’t been like this. It had been clumsy and ridiculous and not like this. Not like, not like, oh, god, oh god not like this. And then, and then…but what if someone saw them and called the cops? Or recognized Jim?
Blair sits upright from his slouched position in the dining room chair, his hand falling from where he’d tangled it in his hair as his other hand re-buttons his fly.
And what about the sheer mess of having sex without a spare change of clothes? He knows Jim. Jim would want to change. And sand…sand would get everywhere, and he doesn’t want to think about where everywhere would entail… Maybe he’s making this too complicated.
“Agghh,” He claws his hands through his hair in frustration and looks like a wild man when he was done. Okay, somewhere private. Jim was a private kind of guy. And if he didn’t want to come out because of his job…yeah, private. A hotel? How the heck would he even get him there? A hotel didn’t seem overly romantic when they weren’t even a couple yet.
The loft? Well, okay. Convenient. Changes of clothes. Shower. Blair let his eyes wonder up to the loft. A bed. A big bed. He shifted in his chair. Loft. Yeah. The loft was good. But how? Hey Jim, here’s some Mac and Cheese and me. Right here, on the table. What a spread, huh? He put his hands flat on the table he was sitting in front of and he could see himself on his back, Jim looming over him, those hands on Blair’s hips, Jim’s chest a sheen of sweat and they’re both panting with need and his hair’s in what’s left of the macaroni and his left heel is in the salad but man, who the hell cares at that point…
Blair jumps up from the table and he doesn’t think he can sit at it again until he knows for sure if Jim will accept everything that Blair’s going to offer him. He stills then, because it’s just hitting him. He doesn’t want a one-nighter. He doesn’t want something to pacify him for the meantime. He doesn’t want a convenient relationship.
A slow smile spreads over his face. He hears the lock turn in the front door. No, he wants more. Jim’s home. He wants everything that is Jim. Jim’s coming through the door and Blair hears it close behind the other man. And it’s the first time he wants to give everything he has, everything he is. He turns and sees Jim standing there, just inside the door. Blair smiles, slowly, because he finally gets it. Jim looks uncertain for a moment, just a moment. And then, a slow smile spreads across Jim’s lips and Blair has never felt more warm, more whole in his entire life. Maybe love really is that simple. That complicated. Whatever it is, Blair thinks as Jim presses the length of his body against his, whatever it is, it’s all in the timing.
Well, here goes, my very first slash. Whoo-hoo! I happily lay the blame at T. Verano's feet for enticing me into writing slash. Though this isn't the one with the chocolate ice cream...but I promise, soon- 'kay? The rest of you lovely writers also inspire the heck out of me and more often than not, are the reason I have to run and stick my head in the freezer to cool down.
Hope y'all like!
Title: A Matter of Timing
Author: JadeBear
Disclaimer: I so do not own the characters of Jim and Blair. They are the property of Pet Fly and Paramount. If I owned them they would be gently chained in the basement for my amusement. I’ve made no money off of this story.
Category: Slash J/B; First Times
Word count: 2,438
A Matter of Timing
by JadeBear (JB)
Carolyn Plummer was his hero.
After all, if not for good ol’ Caro, he might never have considered the possibility. Oh, well, he did consider it. A lot. Pondered. Wondered. Day dreamed. Fantasized. Fantasized some more. But never in his wildest dreams did Blair Sandburg even once stop to consider that James Ellison might in fact, fantasize about him. Until Carolyn. God bless her.
She’d been in town a month ago for a conference and subsequently had looked up her Ex, who in turn had seemed happy enough to treat her to dinner. Carolyn had come to the door dressed to the nines. Blair had peeked over his laptop as she’d strutted in and had been bemused at her obvious overtones towards Jim. Jim had smiled, made polite small talk and bad quips and she laughed in all the right places and clutched his arm possessively as they walked out the door, her four inch fuck me heels clicking on the hardwood and Jim, Detective of the Year (twice mind you), was oblivious to it all. Blair had been bemused and had almost laughed outright as her attempt to give Jim a welcoming kiss had failed utterly and she ended up catching his cheek instead.
It was funny until they walked out the door and Sandburg realized that oblivious or not, if she wanted to get reacquainted in the biblical sense, it wouldn’t take much to convince Jim that it was a swell idea. If flirtatious overtones wouldn’t work, then pulling at the mans’ fly would probably get his attention.
Blair lost his smile.
Two hours later and nothing but gibberish filling three whole pages, Blair gave up the ghost. He’d get a lot more done at the University. Packing up his notes and laptop, he’d refused to acknowledge the added bonus that if he were gone, he wouldn’t have to watch Jim and Carolyn walk through the door, only to be asked politely to leave anyway with only a twenty for his compliance. He didn’t think he could watch the Godfather one more time.
“Where ya going, Chief?”
Blair had looked up, startled as he’d been unlocking his car door to see Jim and Carolyn stepping out of her Buick. It didn’t surprise Blair. He couldn’t picture Carolyn being caught dead in the truck. Personally, he loved Sweetheart. It had bench seats. Fantasies were easier with bench seats.
“I was headed to the U, ya know, get caught up,” He glanced over to see Carolyn standing on the curb, an unreadable expression on her face. Probably annoyed with the small talk taking up all her pillow talk time. “I can stay gone, uh, ya know, if you need me to,” It was hard to force the words past his teeth, but hell, what were pals for?
Jim tilted his head. “Why would you need to do that?” Blair’s eyebrows hit his hairline and before he could say anything, Jim was placing his hands on Carolyn’s arms, he was leaning in and Blair couldn’t help but stand there and watch. He could almost feel those hands on his arms, the length of their bodies pressed close, the heat of Jim’s breath as he leaned in and kissed his…cheek?
“I had a great night, Carolyn. Be careful going back to San Francisco,”
She said something polite back to him, but it was hard to hear because she had to force the words through a tight smile. Jim turned to him then and smiling said, “Don’t stay up too late, Chief.”
“S-Sure,” And if his voice cracked, then hey, maybe it was cold. He was trying not to smile with Carolyn still watching Jim’s back as he disappeared through the apartment doors, but it was hard. Jim may not be interested in him, or men in general, which was where the problem lay, but apparently he wasn’t interested in Carolyn Plummer either. It was hard not to gloat.
He’d thrown his backpack in the car, after all, he really did need to get some work done, when he sensed a dark presence. And she was pissed.
“So was it before or after I left?”
And the guys made fun of him for his ‘Sandburg Zone.’
“Huh?”
“Don’t play dumb with me,” She poked her manicured finger at his face and he leaned back, looking cross-eyed for a second.
“Carolyn, I honestly don’t know what you’re talking about. Before or after what?”
She stepped back and folded her arms tight across her chest, her pretty face pinched and narrow.
“I knew about the army things. He thinks I don’t. But sometimes he had nightmares about the crash in Peru. He said things about that Sarris,” She blushed then and looked away. “I never told him. I thought it was just a stress thing, in the military, from what he did,” She looked back at him then and he didn’t know what to think, because surely she wasn’t saying what he thought she was saying.
“I, uh,” He coughed, “I didn’t know that,”
She looked at him strangely and he just stood there dumbly. Carolyn had shaken her head then, her arms tightening around herself.
“I don’t know what I was thinking tonight,” She was still looking away and Blair realized that she was talking more to herself than to him at that point. “I just wanted…” She looked up and Blair felt sorry for her and the sheen in her eyes. She shook her head then and looked at him as though truly seeing at him for the first time.
“Carolyn-“
Her outstretched hand stopped him. She took a deep breath, rolled back her shoulders and held her head high. And then she graced him with a sad little smile.
“I hope you make him happy, Blair. I certainly couldn’t.”
With those final words, Carolyn Plummer gracefully retreated, got in her Buick and left with Blair staring after her. His jaw was still hanging four inches below his face when he slowly turned and looked towards the loft.
No. Fucking. Way.
His hands shook trying to fit the key in the ignition. Did Jim and Sarris have a thing way back when? His heart hammered for two hours straight. Was Jim actually into guys? He got absolutely no work done. Was it true? As he crept back into the loft late that night and lay down in his bed, his eyes boring holes through the ceiling to where Jim lay, Blair had a whole line of tests worked out in his head.
None of them had to do with the senses.
*******
It was all in the timing, really.
Like making sure he was juuuuust coming out of his room, dressed only in his black silk boxers, the ones that were a little too loose, while towel drying his hair because he’d just had a shower, just as Jim stepped through the door. Oh and hey, while he’s out there, he might as well check the mail Jim was bringing in. And if his boxers were hanging just a little lower, the angles of his hip bones standing out; if their hands grazed one another as he took the mail, so what? And so what, when Jim bitched about Sandburg getting water on the floor, his voice came out a little rough and breathy…well, so what?
Yes timing was important. Like getting dressed up for a fundraiser. Even if it wasn’t for another three hours but Jim was leaving for a steak out in one and he got ready sooner anyway…well, better early than late. And he had to look good. He was representing the University. It was his duty to put forth his best impression. The long sleeve silk shirt was something of a deep blue, not too dark, but one that made his eyes look deeper. The black dress slacks cupped and hugged him in all the right places. He left the collar button undone and had found a choker with thick double black cording and set off with an etched Inuit wolf on a three inch pewter tube laying longways with the cords strung through it. It peeked between his shirt perfectly. Of course, he just couldn’t possibly get in on by himself. So what if he had to have Jim clasp it in the back for him? And if he had to bite back a moan as Jim’s calloused hand gently pulled his hair aside, his fingertips grazing the back of his neck, well, he got his necklace on, didn’t he? And if Jim’s hands seemed to be shaking and if Jim just looked down at him with an intensity that left Blair breathless, even as he’d walked out the door, well?
Score two for Sandburg.
Timing was standing in front of the stove for twenty-three minutes and bending over just as the front door opens and Jim calls out, “Hey Chief, something sm-smells, um…good,”
And timing is making sure that he stayed in that position, his threadbare, impossibly tight, obscene and most comfortable pair of faded jeans hugging his ass, and then standing slowly, replacing his shit-eating grin with something softer as he looks over his shoulder and says, “Thanks. Almost ready,” And if Jim can only seem to nod at that point, but his adam’s apple is working overtime, well then…
Timing is making sure to immediately grab the bowl of salad off the counter and accidently slip on the way to the table so Jim would automatically reach out to steady him. And when Blair pushed back against Jim, just a little, he had to keep the smile off his face. And if he could only whisper a thank you, and Jim could only nod, well…he’d felt more than Jim’s hands on his arms. The third test was complete. And judging by what he’d felt pressed against those threadbare jeans for just an agonizingly amazing moment, he could honestly say that it was a complete success.
*****
The dilemma now was how to approach the situation. Meaning Jim.
It was obvious the guy was into him. Blair thought about being romantic. But after torturing himself on what was too romantic versus just right, he gave up on that. Simple was better anyway. Jim was complex, but he appreciated the little things. Maybe they could walk on the beach?
He would say something clever and Jim would be stunned and then smile and take Blair into his arms, crushing them together until there was no space between, like they were crawling into one another and they’d fall into the sand. Jim’s hard length would be spread over him, pressing him down, a solid weight that would be liberating. He could practically feel Jim’s hand in his hair, pulling and stroking and his other hand would be moving under Blair’s shirt, skittering across his belly, pinching his nipples and then suddenly skimming lower as Blair arched into him, into Jim with his whole body, their mouths devouring one another. Jim’s nimble fingers, fingers that had squeezed the triggers of countless guns, had struck and punched, his fingers would undo Blair’s fly and those fingers, those hands that could act in such violence would act with nothing but utter love, utter brilliance. Jim’s hand would move lower and lower to a place Blair had allowed only one other man and he’s arching and moaning and it’s agony and it’s exquisite and he thinks, no he knows, he knows he’s been waiting for Jim. Just Jim. He let that other man, when they were young and lonely in some tropical forest long ago, but it hadn’t been like this. It had been clumsy and ridiculous and not like this. Not like, not like, oh, god, oh god not like this. And then, and then…but what if someone saw them and called the cops? Or recognized Jim?
Blair sits upright from his slouched position in the dining room chair, his hand falling from where he’d tangled it in his hair as his other hand re-buttons his fly.
And what about the sheer mess of having sex without a spare change of clothes? He knows Jim. Jim would want to change. And sand…sand would get everywhere, and he doesn’t want to think about where everywhere would entail… Maybe he’s making this too complicated.
“Agghh,” He claws his hands through his hair in frustration and looks like a wild man when he was done. Okay, somewhere private. Jim was a private kind of guy. And if he didn’t want to come out because of his job…yeah, private. A hotel? How the heck would he even get him there? A hotel didn’t seem overly romantic when they weren’t even a couple yet.
The loft? Well, okay. Convenient. Changes of clothes. Shower. Blair let his eyes wonder up to the loft. A bed. A big bed. He shifted in his chair. Loft. Yeah. The loft was good. But how? Hey Jim, here’s some Mac and Cheese and me. Right here, on the table. What a spread, huh? He put his hands flat on the table he was sitting in front of and he could see himself on his back, Jim looming over him, those hands on Blair’s hips, Jim’s chest a sheen of sweat and they’re both panting with need and his hair’s in what’s left of the macaroni and his left heel is in the salad but man, who the hell cares at that point…
Blair jumps up from the table and he doesn’t think he can sit at it again until he knows for sure if Jim will accept everything that Blair’s going to offer him. He stills then, because it’s just hitting him. He doesn’t want a one-nighter. He doesn’t want something to pacify him for the meantime. He doesn’t want a convenient relationship.
A slow smile spreads over his face. He hears the lock turn in the front door. No, he wants more. Jim’s home. He wants everything that is Jim. Jim’s coming through the door and Blair hears it close behind the other man. And it’s the first time he wants to give everything he has, everything he is. He turns and sees Jim standing there, just inside the door. Blair smiles, slowly, because he finally gets it. Jim looks uncertain for a moment, just a moment. And then, a slow smile spreads across Jim’s lips and Blair has never felt more warm, more whole in his entire life. Maybe love really is that simple. That complicated. Whatever it is, Blair thinks as Jim presses the length of his body against his, whatever it is, it’s all in the timing.