Meltdown ( Sentinel Thursday Challenge 195)
Title: The Return of the Sentinel
Author: Laurie
Category: Slash
Rating: R
Warnings: Sexual Scenes
Length: 2000 words (more or less)
Beta’d by t_verano. Thank you for the assistance.
Disclaimer: These characters are not mine. This story is transformative in nature.
Permission granted to archive, except for Fanlib.
I’m hot.
I’m cranky from lj not working up to speed.
I decided to be inspired by a big bowl of ice cream.
Challenge 195 Meltdown
The Return of the Sentinel
As Jim turned to trudge up into his building, he gave Henri a half hearted wave goodbye. He was tired and he was hot, since Henri’s air conditioner wasn’t worth shit on the drive back from Spokane. He hadn’t been excited about sitting through the training on ‘Trends in Law Enforcement.’ Nope, not one little bit. He would have been satisfied with reading a one-page summary instead of sitting on uncomfortable chairs for two days.
His partner, on the other hand, would have enjoyed the time spent discussing statistics and projections about crime. Sandburg would have found it all extremely interesting. Yeah, Blair should have gone instead of him on the long drive to Spokane; or at least gone with him instead of staying home.
Too bad Simon didn’t see it that way. His captain had sent detectives minus their partners to that waste of Jim’s time with bellowed instructions to “pay attention and learn something.” The lucky participants were expected to brief their partners and the rest of the bullpen who hadn’t drawn the short end of the stick.
Maybe it was just as well that Blair hadn’t come with him. His partner had told him there were lots of things he had to get done during the three days Jim was going to be gone. Blair was usually busy but he’d been frantic with projects before Jim had left town.
Jim climbed up the stairs slowly, thinking about the shower he intended to take and wondering if Blair was home. It would be satisfying to surprise Sandburg with his early return to the loft. Rather than stay overnight again at the crappy hotel they’d been booked into by the bean counters from the station, both he and Henri had decided they would rather drive to Cascade that evening.
At his own front door, Jim stopped and wrinkled his nose. Something didn’t smell right. Jim sighed and wondered what he’d find on the other side, as he unlocked the door and went into his home. He stopped any forward momentum, stunned by the extent of the mess laid out in front of him, from one end of the loft to the other.
“Sandburg,” he growled, knowing already the kid wasn’t there.
Was it too much to ask for a few simple and clear-cut rules to be followed, in order to avoid the very chaos his unbelieving eyes were taking in?
Jim could feel his blood pressure start to rise as he began taking inventory of the piles of dirty laundry dumped at his feet, plates of half eaten food on the floor by the couch and on the coffee table. There were stacks of papers and books covering the kitchen table and chairs. Jumbles of unwashed dishes sat in the sink while more were stacked on the counter, competing for space with bags of groceries. Some of the groceries were out of their bags and were sitting on the floor. There was an unwashed pot containing the remnants of chili, which evidently had bubbled over onto the stove and down the front of it during the food orgy he knew had taken place in here.
But the worst, the very worst, was the forlorn looking carton of Rocky Road ice cream lying on its side. Jim stomped over to take in the full picture of the pool of melted, sticky stuff that had flowed out of its container and pooled on the counter and dripped down the cabinet side and onto the floor.
That, that, that - was his ice cream. Sandburg had gotten out his ice cream and demolished it. The rising tide of frustration, annoyance, and just the general unfairness of Sandburg abusing his Rocky Road like that swept through Jim till he had to do something, or he would just have a meltdown.
He strode over to the balcony doors and flung them open, then went outside and breathed deeply of the fresh air. Gripping the railing, he thought hard about Blair, considered how messy he was without Jim’s restraining hand to keep chaos at bay. Oh, the kid was brilliant when it came to academics but when it came to housecleaning he was an idiot.
And to treat his ice cream like that, it was… just not right.
Blair needed a lesson taught to him and Jim wanted a little revenge for the sight that had greeted him upon his return home to his castle.
He wasn’t ex-covert ops for nothing, after all.
And revenge would be a dish best eaten cold.
Jim took advantage of the adrenaline that had pumped into his body, flooding him with energy, to make cleaning sweeps through the loft until things were more or less back to normal. He stuffed the dirty laundry into trash bags, wondering what the hell Sandburg had done with the laundry baskets, and took it down to his washer, and started a load. The chili pot was left soaking while inedible food was disposed of, dishes carted to the sink, and the trash taken out of the loft. He scrubbed the table, counters, and the stove. He washed dishes and put groceries away. Blair’s pile of books and papers he transferred to the downstairs bedroom.
The ice cream mess he left alone. For now.
It was late, really late for Blair to still not be home, and Jim was considering giving him a call, when he heard his partner’s slow footsteps coming down the hall outside the loft. Blair was muttering to himself about sleep vs brewing a pot of tea.
When the door swung open and Blair stepped inside, Jim was waiting for him. He grinned toothily at the shocked expression on Blair’s face and the way his eyes darted around the room, looking for the evidence of the destruction he had caused.
Jim took the backpack out of Blair’s hand and said mildly, “Welcome home, Chief.
“Anything you’d like to confess, Darwin?” Jim offered to Blair, after putting his backpack by the door, then moving him by the arm into the living room.
Blair started to splutter out an explanation involving a focus group, a meal, kittens, being kicked out of the library and a lack of time to do anything, his words tumbling over themselves in his haste to explain away his transgressions.
“Oh, God, Jim, thought I could clean up ‘fore you got home, we were late and s’kittens were in’d laundry baskets and -”
Blair was talking so fast his words were slurring while his arms waved around trying to make some sort of point. He was wearing pleading expression number 96 when Jim cut him short.
“Never mind, Chief, “ Jim firmly stated, then smiled craftily at his partner who had been jittering around while giving his excuses.
“You agree that you owe me, Junior? That I can choose the penalty since I’ve cleaned up your mess for you?” Jim was circling around Blair, and getting closer to him with each loop.
“Uh, yeah, that’d be fair. I’m down with that, Jim,” Blair replied with a slightly worried look on his face. He tracked Jim’s progress with eyes that kept getting larger as Jim came closer and closer to him.
Jim got so close into Blair’s personal space that Blair had to look up to maintain eye contact.
“Blair,” he whispered, “I want you to bury the remains of my Rocky Road and reflect on the injustice of a guy doing that to another man’s favorite ice cream. Then I want you to go in the bathroom and take a shower. Stay there until I come and get you, and then you’ll pay the penalty you owe me.”
Blair’s breath was ragged and his heart had sped up during Jim’s directions, but he nodded and went to clean up his responsibility. Jim went to the door, and with a last look at Blair and a point of his finger at him, left the loft.
When Jim returned the shower was still running. He left his package on the counter and opened the bathroom door.
“Chief, time to face the music,” Jim sang as he reached in the shower and turned off the water. He watched Blair step out, naked and dripping and looking at him with a mixture of anticipation and reluctance. Jim ran his hands down Blair’s naked body and curled his hand around Blair’s penis. He stroked his lover’s penis several times, felt it start to harden, before stepping back and handing Blair a towel. Then he placed a finger over Blair’s lips.
“Dry off, go upstairs and lay the extra bedcover over the bed. Then lie down and spread your legs and arms apart. Close your eyes till I come up and tell you to open your baby blues. Be still, and don’t try to talk your way out of this, Blair, or you’ll regret it,” Jim warned.
When Jim came up to his bedroom, feeling refreshed from his own shower and carrying the instruments of Blair’s upcoming torture; he was gratified to see Blair had followed his instructions to the letter. Jim ran his hands over Blair’s body, slowly and deliberately, watching as Blair flushed and his heart started to beat faster. He twisted Blair’s nipples till they were erect. Then he nodded to himself. It was time for Blair to pay the penalty.
Jim took the bowl of ice cream he had set on the floor and smiled as he took a spoonful and plopped it on Blair’s belly button.
Blair’s eyes flew open and he wriggled on the bed. “Jim, man, what are you - Oh, you don’t really mean to…”
“Yes, Chief, I certainly do intend to decorate you with ice cream and then I’m going to lick every delicious inch of your body to clean you up. You can keep your eyes open now because I want you to watch me - but no talking. If you’re a good boy, I might just let you lick my spoon.”
Jim industriously set about dropping spoonfuls of ice cream on Blair’s nipples, his lips, his neck, his hips, his thighs, and his dick. Blair watched him with wide eyes and Jim smiled with satisfaction when Blair started shivering with tiny, exquisite movements of his body.
While the ice cream on Blair’s body began its meltdown, Jim resumed his exploration of Blair’s body, carefully avoiding any sweetened parts till the ice cream was dripping and mostly melted. Then, he kept his promise to Blair and licked up every drop, causing much squirming and heavy breathing from his dazed looking lover. He took more mostly melted ice cream, coated Blair’s lips with it and, lying next to him, nibbled and tongued every drop back off.
Next, he dropped a spoonful in Blair’s mouth and French kissed him as the Chocolate Delight Double Fudge blended with the taste of Blair’s mouth. When the ice cream was finally all licked up and Blair pretty much reduced to a hapless, quivering wreck, Jim guided his dick into Blair’s mouth, as he crouched above him.
“Lick me, Baby. Suck me off,” Jim crooned to his sweet, sugary lover. And Blair did, his hands reaching up to stroke Jim’s hips.
When he came he felt that at last he could relax and enjoy being home…his neat and clean home…with his not so neat but talented lover, who had been so delightfully teased and now deserved a mercy stroke.
When Jim could move again, he slid down the bed and swirled his tongue around Blair’s still slightly sticky penis, till Blair was arching up and so tense Jim thought he could bounce a quarter off of him. He firmly grasped Blair’s dick and stroked him while tickling his perineum till Blair gave a combination of a grunt, groan and moan and came all over his own belly.
* * * * * * * * * *
After a sleepy clean up and a last piss for the night, they both tumbled back into bed. Jim got comfortable in his favorite sleeping position, which was spooning behind Blair and holding him with his arm around Blair’s chest.
“Chief,” Jim drowsily remarked, “why didn’t you just put my ice cream away? And don’t think I don’t know about how you sneak and help yourself to it, no matter how much you talk about how it’s not good for you.”
But he was destined to not be enlightened, at least not till morning, because Blair was sound asleep.
Author: Laurie
Category: Slash
Rating: R
Warnings: Sexual Scenes
Length: 2000 words (more or less)
Beta’d by t_verano. Thank you for the assistance.
Disclaimer: These characters are not mine. This story is transformative in nature.
Permission granted to archive, except for Fanlib.
I’m hot.
I’m cranky from lj not working up to speed.
I decided to be inspired by a big bowl of ice cream.
Challenge 195 Meltdown
The Return of the Sentinel
As Jim turned to trudge up into his building, he gave Henri a half hearted wave goodbye. He was tired and he was hot, since Henri’s air conditioner wasn’t worth shit on the drive back from Spokane. He hadn’t been excited about sitting through the training on ‘Trends in Law Enforcement.’ Nope, not one little bit. He would have been satisfied with reading a one-page summary instead of sitting on uncomfortable chairs for two days.
His partner, on the other hand, would have enjoyed the time spent discussing statistics and projections about crime. Sandburg would have found it all extremely interesting. Yeah, Blair should have gone instead of him on the long drive to Spokane; or at least gone with him instead of staying home.
Too bad Simon didn’t see it that way. His captain had sent detectives minus their partners to that waste of Jim’s time with bellowed instructions to “pay attention and learn something.” The lucky participants were expected to brief their partners and the rest of the bullpen who hadn’t drawn the short end of the stick.
Maybe it was just as well that Blair hadn’t come with him. His partner had told him there were lots of things he had to get done during the three days Jim was going to be gone. Blair was usually busy but he’d been frantic with projects before Jim had left town.
Jim climbed up the stairs slowly, thinking about the shower he intended to take and wondering if Blair was home. It would be satisfying to surprise Sandburg with his early return to the loft. Rather than stay overnight again at the crappy hotel they’d been booked into by the bean counters from the station, both he and Henri had decided they would rather drive to Cascade that evening.
At his own front door, Jim stopped and wrinkled his nose. Something didn’t smell right. Jim sighed and wondered what he’d find on the other side, as he unlocked the door and went into his home. He stopped any forward momentum, stunned by the extent of the mess laid out in front of him, from one end of the loft to the other.
“Sandburg,” he growled, knowing already the kid wasn’t there.
Was it too much to ask for a few simple and clear-cut rules to be followed, in order to avoid the very chaos his unbelieving eyes were taking in?
Jim could feel his blood pressure start to rise as he began taking inventory of the piles of dirty laundry dumped at his feet, plates of half eaten food on the floor by the couch and on the coffee table. There were stacks of papers and books covering the kitchen table and chairs. Jumbles of unwashed dishes sat in the sink while more were stacked on the counter, competing for space with bags of groceries. Some of the groceries were out of their bags and were sitting on the floor. There was an unwashed pot containing the remnants of chili, which evidently had bubbled over onto the stove and down the front of it during the food orgy he knew had taken place in here.
But the worst, the very worst, was the forlorn looking carton of Rocky Road ice cream lying on its side. Jim stomped over to take in the full picture of the pool of melted, sticky stuff that had flowed out of its container and pooled on the counter and dripped down the cabinet side and onto the floor.
That, that, that - was his ice cream. Sandburg had gotten out his ice cream and demolished it. The rising tide of frustration, annoyance, and just the general unfairness of Sandburg abusing his Rocky Road like that swept through Jim till he had to do something, or he would just have a meltdown.
He strode over to the balcony doors and flung them open, then went outside and breathed deeply of the fresh air. Gripping the railing, he thought hard about Blair, considered how messy he was without Jim’s restraining hand to keep chaos at bay. Oh, the kid was brilliant when it came to academics but when it came to housecleaning he was an idiot.
And to treat his ice cream like that, it was… just not right.
Blair needed a lesson taught to him and Jim wanted a little revenge for the sight that had greeted him upon his return home to his castle.
He wasn’t ex-covert ops for nothing, after all.
And revenge would be a dish best eaten cold.
Jim took advantage of the adrenaline that had pumped into his body, flooding him with energy, to make cleaning sweeps through the loft until things were more or less back to normal. He stuffed the dirty laundry into trash bags, wondering what the hell Sandburg had done with the laundry baskets, and took it down to his washer, and started a load. The chili pot was left soaking while inedible food was disposed of, dishes carted to the sink, and the trash taken out of the loft. He scrubbed the table, counters, and the stove. He washed dishes and put groceries away. Blair’s pile of books and papers he transferred to the downstairs bedroom.
The ice cream mess he left alone. For now.
It was late, really late for Blair to still not be home, and Jim was considering giving him a call, when he heard his partner’s slow footsteps coming down the hall outside the loft. Blair was muttering to himself about sleep vs brewing a pot of tea.
When the door swung open and Blair stepped inside, Jim was waiting for him. He grinned toothily at the shocked expression on Blair’s face and the way his eyes darted around the room, looking for the evidence of the destruction he had caused.
Jim took the backpack out of Blair’s hand and said mildly, “Welcome home, Chief.
“Anything you’d like to confess, Darwin?” Jim offered to Blair, after putting his backpack by the door, then moving him by the arm into the living room.
Blair started to splutter out an explanation involving a focus group, a meal, kittens, being kicked out of the library and a lack of time to do anything, his words tumbling over themselves in his haste to explain away his transgressions.
“Oh, God, Jim, thought I could clean up ‘fore you got home, we were late and s’kittens were in’d laundry baskets and -”
Blair was talking so fast his words were slurring while his arms waved around trying to make some sort of point. He was wearing pleading expression number 96 when Jim cut him short.
“Never mind, Chief, “ Jim firmly stated, then smiled craftily at his partner who had been jittering around while giving his excuses.
“You agree that you owe me, Junior? That I can choose the penalty since I’ve cleaned up your mess for you?” Jim was circling around Blair, and getting closer to him with each loop.
“Uh, yeah, that’d be fair. I’m down with that, Jim,” Blair replied with a slightly worried look on his face. He tracked Jim’s progress with eyes that kept getting larger as Jim came closer and closer to him.
Jim got so close into Blair’s personal space that Blair had to look up to maintain eye contact.
“Blair,” he whispered, “I want you to bury the remains of my Rocky Road and reflect on the injustice of a guy doing that to another man’s favorite ice cream. Then I want you to go in the bathroom and take a shower. Stay there until I come and get you, and then you’ll pay the penalty you owe me.”
Blair’s breath was ragged and his heart had sped up during Jim’s directions, but he nodded and went to clean up his responsibility. Jim went to the door, and with a last look at Blair and a point of his finger at him, left the loft.
When Jim returned the shower was still running. He left his package on the counter and opened the bathroom door.
“Chief, time to face the music,” Jim sang as he reached in the shower and turned off the water. He watched Blair step out, naked and dripping and looking at him with a mixture of anticipation and reluctance. Jim ran his hands down Blair’s naked body and curled his hand around Blair’s penis. He stroked his lover’s penis several times, felt it start to harden, before stepping back and handing Blair a towel. Then he placed a finger over Blair’s lips.
“Dry off, go upstairs and lay the extra bedcover over the bed. Then lie down and spread your legs and arms apart. Close your eyes till I come up and tell you to open your baby blues. Be still, and don’t try to talk your way out of this, Blair, or you’ll regret it,” Jim warned.
When Jim came up to his bedroom, feeling refreshed from his own shower and carrying the instruments of Blair’s upcoming torture; he was gratified to see Blair had followed his instructions to the letter. Jim ran his hands over Blair’s body, slowly and deliberately, watching as Blair flushed and his heart started to beat faster. He twisted Blair’s nipples till they were erect. Then he nodded to himself. It was time for Blair to pay the penalty.
Jim took the bowl of ice cream he had set on the floor and smiled as he took a spoonful and plopped it on Blair’s belly button.
Blair’s eyes flew open and he wriggled on the bed. “Jim, man, what are you - Oh, you don’t really mean to…”
“Yes, Chief, I certainly do intend to decorate you with ice cream and then I’m going to lick every delicious inch of your body to clean you up. You can keep your eyes open now because I want you to watch me - but no talking. If you’re a good boy, I might just let you lick my spoon.”
Jim industriously set about dropping spoonfuls of ice cream on Blair’s nipples, his lips, his neck, his hips, his thighs, and his dick. Blair watched him with wide eyes and Jim smiled with satisfaction when Blair started shivering with tiny, exquisite movements of his body.
While the ice cream on Blair’s body began its meltdown, Jim resumed his exploration of Blair’s body, carefully avoiding any sweetened parts till the ice cream was dripping and mostly melted. Then, he kept his promise to Blair and licked up every drop, causing much squirming and heavy breathing from his dazed looking lover. He took more mostly melted ice cream, coated Blair’s lips with it and, lying next to him, nibbled and tongued every drop back off.
Next, he dropped a spoonful in Blair’s mouth and French kissed him as the Chocolate Delight Double Fudge blended with the taste of Blair’s mouth. When the ice cream was finally all licked up and Blair pretty much reduced to a hapless, quivering wreck, Jim guided his dick into Blair’s mouth, as he crouched above him.
“Lick me, Baby. Suck me off,” Jim crooned to his sweet, sugary lover. And Blair did, his hands reaching up to stroke Jim’s hips.
When he came he felt that at last he could relax and enjoy being home…his neat and clean home…with his not so neat but talented lover, who had been so delightfully teased and now deserved a mercy stroke.
When Jim could move again, he slid down the bed and swirled his tongue around Blair’s still slightly sticky penis, till Blair was arching up and so tense Jim thought he could bounce a quarter off of him. He firmly grasped Blair’s dick and stroked him while tickling his perineum till Blair gave a combination of a grunt, groan and moan and came all over his own belly.
* * * * * * * * * *
After a sleepy clean up and a last piss for the night, they both tumbled back into bed. Jim got comfortable in his favorite sleeping position, which was spooning behind Blair and holding him with his arm around Blair’s chest.
“Chief,” Jim drowsily remarked, “why didn’t you just put my ice cream away? And don’t think I don’t know about how you sneak and help yourself to it, no matter how much you talk about how it’s not good for you.”
But he was destined to not be enlightened, at least not till morning, because Blair was sound asleep.